Chapter 15: Weekends and Wednesdays

Margot's POV

His mouth stopped against my throat, and every part of me complained.

"I said don't stop."

"I heard you."

He lifted his hands off me, both of them, and held them in the air by his shoulders.

"Weekends and Wednesday dinners," Rafe said, very low. "No touching. Those were the terms."

I stared at him.

He was breathing hard.

His shirt was pulled out on one side where I'd twisted it, and his eyes were dark.

"You're throwing my own rule back at me."

"You made it. I'm a man of my word."

"It's Friday night," I said. "Put your hands back."

"Where?"

I took his wrist and set his palm on my breast, over the grey T-shirt.

"There. Start there."

He squeezed once, and I heard myself moan.

Then his other hand slid under the shirt, onto my bare ribs.

The shirt went up over my head and onto the floor with the lemons.

I wasn't wearing a bra.

He looked at me, and I watched his throat move.

"Christ, Margot."

"You've seen them before."

"Not for six years."

He bent his head and took my nipple in his mouth.

I grabbed the counter behind me with both hands.

His tongue circled, and he sucked, hard, and I felt it all the way down between my legs.

I was wet already, and it was embarrassing how wet.

He moved to the other breast and grazed it with his teeth.

I said his name out loud in my own kitchen.

"Up," he said.

He lifted me onto the counter by my hips, and I wrapped my legs around him.

I tugged his shirt open button by button, and then I stopped bothering and just pulled.

A button hit the fridge.

His chest was broader than I remembered, with a thin line of grey in the hair over his sternum.

I put my mouth on it.

"Fuck," he said.

His hands went to the waist of my pajama shorts. "Lift."

I lifted, and he pulled the shorts and my underwear down together and dropped them on the floor.

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