Mia turned her head, pressed her mouth to his hair, and murmured a frantic stream of “Rafe, oh God Rafe. Yes, yes, yes…”
Until she broke again. Until her pussy squeezed his cock and spilled her juice and Rafe let go. His orgasm surged through him like liquid fire, searing pleasure through his body from his pelvis out. He tipped his head and pressed his mouth to Mia’s neck to smother his groan.
But when the pleasure receded to a low, pleasant burn, his throat thickened with emotion. As if the orgasm had cleared his brain, he could see all too clearly that he was going to lose her. And not just to California. He was going to lose her entirely. She was going to move on with her life, grow and change and experience things, and Rafe would be too far away and too busy with his own demanding career to share them with her. Then she’d find someone else, someone closer who appreciated her like he did.
God, he felt like she was already gone, and he was still inside her.
Mia melted against him, boneless, her cheek on his shoulder. Rafe went lax into the seat beneath him, closed his eyes, and tried like hell to absorb the absolute perfection of the moment. He would give up everything in his bank accounts right now to be able to hold on to this, hold on to Mia, and still keep his best friend and Joe.
“So,” Mia said, voice languid and soft, “when I act like a zombie in this meeting, I can blame it on you, right?”
He smiled. “Uh, no. Who climbed on top of who?”
She exhaled. “Ah, right.” Mia pushed back, gave him a tired, lazy smile, and stroked his face. Her gaze lowered to his mouth and went distant, her expression a little melancholy. “And here I always thought those divas were clamoring to hang on your arm for your looks and your heart. Little did I know…” She laughed softly and shook her head, more stupid me than humor. She sighed and brightened her smile. “I guess I’d better get myself back together.”
Rafe cupped her face in both hands and pulled her in for another kiss. He wanted to tell her she was wrong, but she wasn’t. Women did come to him for a good time, which included sex. All kinds of sex. All but the real kind. The kind that involved emotion. The kind he had with Mia.
He leaned back with the wild urge to tell her that she was different. That she’d always been different. That he wanted so much more than they had. Having Mia within reach suddenly made picking up a different woman every other night a chore. He was tired of wondering where Mia was, what she was doing, and who she was doing it with. Tired of worrying about her and wondering whether she was happy or hurting. Damn sick and tired of missing her. But most of all, he was tired of hiding his feelings from everyone—including himself. It was exhausting.
He reached for the strap of her dress that had fallen off her shoulder and put it back into place, searching for the words to open that subject, while knowing there was no point.
She lifted herself off him just as the car slowed. Rafe glanced out the window for the first time, where a row of upscale shops and restaurants lined the street. Her gaze strayed the same direction as she grabbed some napkins from the bar and tossed him a few.
“Someone lined up a very haute couture sort of evening,” she said with a sassy little smile. But Rafe wasn’t feeling sassy or happy. “And with Tate and Joe on the other side of the table, I’d better put myself back into that pretty little box they expect.”
As they cleaned up, disappointment knotted in the pit of Rafe’s stomach. Once he had himself put back together, he said, “Mia…”
She pulled skimpy red lace panties from her purse and slipped them over her heels and under her skirt. That did make him smile. It also made him forget what he was going to say. Probably something they’d already talked about. Probably something their situation rendered moot.
She grinned in return and lifted her hands to her hair, shaking her the dark strands. Rafe unknotted his tie, rolled it around his hand, then slid it into his pocket while Mia collect her shiny clip again and expertly refasten her hair into a pretty bun. After a quick look in a small mirror and a dab of lip gloss, she leaned in to straighten Rafe’s collar and tame his hair.
The driver rounded the back of the car and stood at the rear door.
Rafe cupped her face. “Hey, don’t be nervous. Silver’s a really nice guy.”
Mia grinned with a flash of white teeth and a sparkle in her eyes. “I’m not nervous.” She patted his chest pocket, his side pockets, then opened her purse and dug around. “I’ve been to hundreds of these meetings over the last few years.” She clipped her purse closed and slid a pen into his front breast pocket. “I can’t believe you and Tate still leave the house without a pen when you know at least a dozen people will want autographs.” With one more look over him, she exhaled and smiled. “Okay, you’re set.”
Then she pushed the door open, and the driver took her hand, helping her to the curb.
Rafe hesitated a moment, trying to figure out the uncomfortable buzz in his gut. He felt vaguely…serviced.
Screwed. Straightened. Handed a pen for signatures.
Just as he grabbed the doorframe to step out, someone bent to look inside. Rafe leaned back and focused on the face and found Tate. Grinning.
“What the hell are you doing in here, dude?”
Rafe lifted a brow at him. “Dude?”
“We’re in California.”
Rafe laughed, planted a hand on top of Tate’s head, and pushed. “Get out.”
Damn, he wished he didn’t love this idiot so much. Or wished he loved Tate’s sister less.
When Rafe stood, he found Mia near the door to the restaurant, talking with Joe. She still took his breath away. And he wasn’t the only guy who noticed how gorgeous she looked. A group of three businessmen waiting for a cab were all staring at her. Mia either didn’t know or didn’t care. She had her arm linked with Joe’s, her smiling face turned up to his as he talked about something.
Rafe pulled his wallet from his pocket and drew out cash for the driver’s tip. He tuned in to Mia’s sweet laugh and Joe telling her some funny story about his Metro ride.