Her heart raced, her ears rang, and every nerve ending in her body shook. Finally, finally, finally… Her inner folds broke into wave after wave of convulsions, trapping Rafe’s manhood with her orgasm.
He howled — a raw, male sound of pure satisfaction.
And she blacked out for an instant with utter, unadulterated ecstasy.
It was several moments before she became aware of her surroundings again. Rafe lay heavily on top of her, probably paralyzed. Her back was pressed to the dirt floor, five feet from their blanket. When she lifted one eyelid, she saw a horse’s hoof mere inches away from her cheek. She looked up to see F. Lee staring down his aristocratic nose at the two of them, probably thinking, “Dumb homo sapiens!”
Rafe lifted his head, gulping for breath. “I think I’m hyperventilating.” He kissed her lightly and smiled. “Damn, I was good.”
She returned his smile, correcting, “Damn, we were good.”
“Ri-i-ight!” He froze then, as if stunned.
“What?”
“Did you just lick my tattoo?”
“I beg your pardon.”
She glanced up and Rafe peered over his shoulder. F. Lee’s tongue took another wide swipe across Rafe’s right buttock.
“Oh, my God!” Rafe exclaimed as he began to assimilate their new location in the cave. “How did we get here?”
She shrugged. “You were the ‘driver.’ ”
Rafe hooted. “Oh, no! You’re not going to lay that one on me.” Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, he pulled her closer. “If I ever call you Prissy again, just karate chop my tongue.”
She cuddled against his chest. “When it has an erection?” she asked sweetly.
He made a choking noise. “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?”
“Never.”
“Let’s see if we can find a pepperoni pizza and a Coors in one of those saddlebags,” he said. “I’m starved.” His legs almost gave way under him as he stood. He grinned sheepishly at his weakness and held out a hand to pull her up.
His thick hair was mussed. His blue eyes scanned her body with lazy possessiveness. His lips were slack in passion’s aftermath. There were bruises and bite marks on his dark skin. In essence, he looked like a man who’d just engaged in sex, and had a real good time.
She loved him.
“Why do you have tears in your eyes, mi amor?” he asked, drawing her upright and into his embrace.
Cupping his face in her hands, she whispered, “Say it again.”
He sighed deeply with understanding. He was obviously uncomfortable.
She cringed with hurt and tried to pull out of his arms.
He held her fast. “Don’t you dare start misinterpreting everything I say or do. This is all new to me, and — ”
“And you think it’s same old — same old to me?” she said on a sob.
“Helen,” he said with exaggerated patience, “you’re wine, and I’m beer. You’re granola, and I’m Froot Loops. You’re apples, and I’m jalapeno peppers. You’re broiled chicken, and I’m chili dogs. You’re — ”
“You’re looking for excuses, Rafe,” she snapped. “Besides, I make a mean Mexi hot dog.”
“You do?” He smiled wearily. “You didn’t let me finish. The most important thing is that you are babies, and I’m… well, I’m not.”
Yes, there was that important stumbling block always in their path. Her shoulders slumped.
“Now, let me finish before you stiffen up on me. I’m just trying to say that we’re different, and neither of us is thinking beyond this incredible chemistry we have, and that’s okay, but — ”
“Stop beating around the bush, Rafe.” She braced herself for the rejection that was undoubtedly coming.
“I love you,” he said, gazing at her through hazy eyes that were confused and vulnerable and wonderful, wonderful, wonderful. “Bottom line… I love you,” he confessed in a whisper.
Her heart expanded in her chest almost to bursting, and a big tear slid down her cheek. “You’ll probably try to take those words back tomorrow,” she charged, trying to smile, but failing.
“Probably,” he conceded, kissing the tear off her chin.
Another tear soon followed.
“I love you, too. Honest to God, I really do,” she said bleakly.