Read Touch Me for Free Online Page B

stormy, seething with frustration. Self-denial. Desire.
    Desire .
    Time pulsed as he looked down at her, stared into her eyes. Finally, she saw a flick, a flash, something that told her that desire was winning the battle.
    He raised his arms slowly, so slowly, skimming her sides, shoulders and neck, hitting some hidden, interior tripwire connecting her nipples to her womb. The forgotten key card he still held scraped against her skin, left gooseflesh in its wake, poked at the underside of her ear when he cradled her face in his hands. He tipped her head this way and that, as if analyzing the optimal angle of approach for his kiss, or assessing her bone structure—
    Grasping two fists of hair, she yanked his lips to hers.
    If he was surprised , he quickly recovered, suckling at her mouth, sliding his lips against hers. With a low purr, she nudged at the seam of his lips with her tongue, frantic for his taste. He opened his mouth, a slick, dark cave she was dying to explore, and speared his fingers through her hair. The diabolical tugs and pulls sent shockwaves over her skull, down her neck, across her shoulders. He mumbled something against her lips, and then skimmed his hand over the same path, gentling her, inflaming her. The key card fluttered to the floor…
    Rafe suddenly stilled . He lifted his head and glanced down. The black plastic square had landed on his shoe.
    Not forgotten after all, damn it.
    He bent down to pick it up. “Bailey, we have to stop this. You’re impaired.”
    Her usual inhibitions, those pesky, worthless things, might have dissolved into mist, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know exactly what she was doing, and with whom. “Come on, Rafe. I’m a woman over the age of consent who wants to have sex with you.”
    “ Consent’s the issue,” he grumbled, swiping the keycard over another black pad. She heard a series of soft clicks as Sasha’s office door unlocked. “And in this condition, you can’t.” Stepping inside, he flicked the light switch, and held the door open for her to enter.
    Rather than harsh overhead fluorescence, the room glowed with warm yellow light. Apparently Sasha collected lamps—Art Deco, if she wasn’t mistaken. The lamp standing next to the lime green couch, a sinuous, chrome nude, was almost as tall as she was, the woman holding a pearly, lit orb in her outstretched hands. On the credenza, a smaller, dual-headed lamp illuminated a professional grade printer and a bowl of Skittles. Over on the L-shaped desk, a miniature metal ballerina stood en pointe , her arms extended overhead, her glass tutu lampshade throwing graceful light on a blizzard of paperwork. Sticky notes, pens, thumb drives and other detritus of business lay scattered around a squat vase of mums, and full set of Buffy the Vampire Slayer action figures guarded the sleek computer from the shelf mounted overhead—all except for Angel and Spike, who were otherwise occupied. Horizontally. With each other.
    A half-giggle/half-moan escaped. “Oh, yeah…”
    Rafe ’s warm hands were suddenly on her shoulders, guiding her to the couch. “Sasha said the pills are in the bathroom.”
    “ So…can I consent after I take one?”
    One beat of silence. Two. “Have a seat,” he finally said. The tiny push gave her little choice in the matter. Soon she was sitting on the overstuffed couch, eyes glued to his world-class ass, until sadly, he disappeared into the office’s private bathroom.
    W ithout answering her question.
    She glanced down at the couch, at the big pop art pillows in eye-searing colors propped at both ends. The crocheted afghan tossed over the arm looked warm and invitingly rumpled. She unzipped her boots, kicked them off, and lay down, shivering in pleasure as she pulled the afghan up to her chin.
    Ra fe’s head suddenly popped into the room from the bathroom. “Still okay?”
    “ Yep.” She wriggled against the cushions. “This couch is awesome.”
    A s hadow flitted across his eyes,