"I’ve just realized true love is about one more thing," Brooke told him.
"What’s that?"
She slid her fork into the tiramisu and grinned at him. "This cake."
He didn’t know a damn thing about love, but the sinfully pleasured look on her face as she took a bite of the decadent cake had his mouth watering.
Not for dessert. For Brooke.
A few minutes later they were leaving a huge cash tip on the table and sneaking out before Mrs. Lombardi could make them take it back. Before Brooke put on her helmet, she pointed up at the sky.
"Look."
There was wonder in her voice, and it was pure instinct to slide his hand into hers as he looked up.
"In just a few days, it will be a blue moon."
They both looked at each other then, and in her eyes he saw a sudden, unexpected flash of what forever might look like.
Looking as stunned as he felt, she took a step back as her helmet fell from her fingers to the ground. Forcing himself to drag his gaze from hers, he picked it up, and when he slid that lock of hair back behind her ear before slipping on the helmet, she trembled.
This time she got on behind him like a pro, and even though it would have been a hell of a lot wiser to take her straight home and say good night, after the way she’d reacted to their short ride to the restaurant, he decided to give her a treat by going the long way home.
The sun had set, and the windows of the stores along the tiny Main Street were lit up, as were the cottages all along the water and in the woods. It would have been a great ride alone, but it was a thousand times better sharing it with Brooke.
Riding his motorcycle had always been a rush. A thrill. A release. Not foreplay. And definitely not romantic.
But it was all those things tonight.
When they finally pulled in behind Brooke’s cottage and she took off her helmet, she was vibrating with energy. "I thought I was ready this time for how awesome that ride would be. If that gets better and better every time, I may explode from the sheer thrill of it soon. Thank you." She threw her arms around him, just as she had the night before when they’d been so surprised to see each other again. "Riding on your motorcycle, dinner, and the company were all spectacular."
"They were," he agreed as he let himself hold her for a few seconds. She was warm and soft and he couldn’t ever remember enjoying the feel of a woman more. After having her pressed up so close to him for the past thirty minutes, her legs and arms and hands holding him as tightly as she would if they were in bed together, all he could think about was sex...and wanting her to explode from the pleasure he could give her.
She yawned against his shoulder, and he made himself shift back. "You worked hard all day, not only on your chocolates but also on scrubbing down my house. I should let you get to bed now."
"I’d rather stay up with you."
He shook his head. "We both know what will happen if you do."
That little line came back between her eyebrows, and he had to press a kiss to it.
He felt the warm puff of breath fall from her lips at his touch just before she asked, "Tell me again why you think it’s so important that we wait?"
He knew it wasn’t a good idea, but he couldn’t stop himself from pulling her closer. "Because I care about you. And I want to make sure you have time to think about this. I would never forgive myself if we slept together in the heat of the moment and you woke up the next morning and decided it was a mistake."
She looked up at him, her mouth just inches from his. "Are you sure I’m the one you’re worried about?"
No, he wasn’t sure about a damned thing anymore. Only that he needed to kiss her more than he needed to take his next breath.
Her mouth met his halfway, her lips soft and cool from their ride. She tasted like red wine and cake and a sweetness that was entirely her own. He couldn’t get enough of her, couldn’t remember one single reason why they weren’t already in her bedroom, stripped down and having each other.
She kissed with the same innate sensuality with which she did everything else, from making truffles to splashing with him in the water to teasing him over dinner. He threaded his fingers into her soft hair and tilted her head back so that he could have full access to every corner of her mouth. He was starved for her, desperate for more even as he was taking everything he could...all the while sensing that he’d never be able to get enough of her.
He wanted so badly to do the right thing, but he was quickly coming to realize that where Brooke was concerned, he wasn’t even close to being a strong enough man to follow through on it.
"Brooke—"
She pressed her fingertips to his mouth. "The only reason I’m not inviting you into my bed tonight is because I don’t want you to think being with me is a mistake, either. Good night, Rafe." She went onto her tippy-toes to press one more soft, sweet kiss against his lips. "Sweet dreams."
As he watched her walk inside her house, the same question kept repeating in his head over and over: What the hell had he been thinking to insist on making them wait twenty-four hours to have each other?
But he knew the answer to that already. Brooke had said she could be casual about sex, but he knew better. It wasn’t who she was.
And yet, did he even have a prayer of resisting her, even with all the warning bells going off?
Knowing he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep tonight in the house with her than he had the night before, he grabbed a couple of thick blankets from one of the chairs on the porch and headed down to the beach. Lying back with one arm under his head and the blankets thrown over him, he stared up at the stars and worked to focus on the beauty of the clear night, the sound of the light breeze rustling through the leaves, the frogs calling back and forth to each other…but his head was spinning, reeling still with the taste of Brooke and his desperate need for more of her.