Page 75 of Rafferty's Rules
‘I like that you’re jealous.’
Her voice is a siren’s song in the darkness, pulling me in. I wrap my hand around the back of her neck, the only control I have of this moment, my other hand gliding down her spine, pulling her to me. My hands are full of her arse, tight and unforgiving and squeezing and needing as I pull us closer—impossibly close for two people still fully clothed—my hips working us closer still.
A few hours ago she was a virgin, she’s only ever been yours,my mind supplies.
Mine. Mine for the taking. Mine for the fucking in this alleyway.
‘Stop.’
The sound is more a rough gasp than a proper word as I tear my mouth from hers, forcing my head higher. I’m manhandling her—getting ready to strip her in a grimy alleyway? She deserves better than that, and I know better than that. But where the fuck did she learn to kiss like that, anyway?
I wrap my fingers over hers as they grip the front of my shirt.
‘That was ...’ Fucking fantastic but heading in the direction of seven shades of wrong. And a possible public indecency charge.‘I’m sorry.’
‘No.’ Those melted chocolate eyes blink rapidly then flick to her hands. ‘Y-yes,’ she hastily amends, smoothing the fabric over my chest.
‘I dunno what came over me.’ But I know what I want to come all over me. Her. All over my fingers, my face, and my cock. Multiple times, if I have my way tonight.
‘Heated. Things were heated,’ she replies without raising her gaze. Or moving her fingers from my chest. ‘I’ve never had anyone behave like that over me before.’ Her tongue darts out to wet those ruby lips, her teeth dragging against them as though she’s thinking.Thinking about my cock.Whether she is or not is immaterial because I feel the phantom pressure of her lips there anyway.‘Maybe it’s wrong of me to be so turned on by it—’
I cut her words off, not only because I don’t want to hear them but because if I don’t kiss her, I’ll start telling her dangerous things. Like how I want to fuck her right here in this alleyway, and how I haven’t been able to get her out of my head all day. Of how she was the first person I’d thought of as the ceiling had come down on my head.
‘You make me want things,’ she whispers as I kiss the column of her neck.
I want to ask what sort of things but that would necessitate me moving my mouth in other ways, and it’s currently taking all of my concentration to work open the buttons of her dress.
‘Fuck me,’ I growl against the soft skin of her neck.
‘Is that an invitation or an admonishment?’
‘You’re not wearing a bra.’ Goodbye fine motor and language skills. Who needs them when you have a rock-hard cock?
‘Are you complaining?’
I make her answer her own question, using my mouth on her nipple a little harder than I’d intended. I soothe the sting with my tongue, causing her to cry out louder still.
Fuck—fuck it all to hell. I really shouldn’t have started this here.
Chapter 22
ALYSSA
I heard a friend once say that kissing was a gateway drug. I never really understood what she meant until Rafferty. That’s not to say that past kisses haven’t been nice because they were.Just nice.But they never made me feel like I wanted my clothes to disintegrate, like they were an unnecessary barrier between kiss-er and kiss-ee. And I swear, I would’ve stripped in that alleyway if it hadn’t been for the restraint and good sense of Rafferty,
And as I sit in the back of a cab with Rafferty keeping a purposeful distance from me, I now absolutely know what she means. Good kisses are nice. Great kisses make a girl need other things. Not want, need. From my heels to my head and every aching, greedy inch of me needs him.
We don’t speak by some tactic agreement, and we each keep to our own sides of the back seat. It’s like an invisible third sits between us, the realisation that, should even our pinkie fingers touch, we’ll end up naked almost immediately.
I shiver and, at that moment, the taxi driver catches my eye in the rear-view mirror. I think he’s concerned. I try to see it through his eyes; Rafferty’s large presence, silent and brooding, me playing with the wooden buttons on my cotton dress, and generally fidgeting. I shoot him a brief smile when Rafferty catches my hand and commands,
‘You can pull over here.’
Our mouths slam together before the cab pulls away from the kerb. His hands are in my hair, his mouth on mine, the full force of his own desire raining down on me.
‘We’re not home yet,’ I say as I come up for air. ‘Why are we—’
‘I couldn’t wait. It was either this or attack you in the car, because you make me want things, too, Lissa. Things that aren’t fit for polite company.’
