Page 63 of Protected from Malice
But most of the time, the right choice is the hardest one.
CHAPTER 11
EDEN
I can’t stop thinkingabout our time in the bedroom together.
Not likethat. Although if we were, I think I’d be okay with it.
Who am I kidding?
I know I would be.
Because, despite my niggling fears, I know Rafe would take care of me. He wouldn’t allow me to be scared. Though he may come across as gruff and intimidating to other people, even unfeeling, he doesn’t to me.
Rafe is kind. Sensitive, though he’d never admit it. Fiercely protective.
If we had sex, it wouldn’t be scary. Maybe a little nerve-racking at first—partly because of what happened two years ago, and partly because Rafe’s been the object of my fantasies for longer than I’d like to admit. But not scary.
Rafe would channel all that intensity into kissing me all over, taking his time with it. His touch would be gentle but sure. His kisses would be tender at first, and then, as our desire kindled into an inferno, they’d grow deeper. Hotter. Hungrier.
He would peel my clothes off slowly—every revealed inch sending sizzles of desire and anticipation through my body. His gorgeous eyes would be on me the whole time, checking on me, feasting on me, committing each breathless moment to memory.
Rafe would make me feel safe. Cherished. And when we finally joined, it would be perfect. The culmination of more than a decade of wanting.
At least, that’s how it happens in my imagination.
Because in the two days since our almost-kiss, it’s been hard to think of anything else.
Not that I’ve forgotten the danger I’m in. It would be pretty hard to do that considering I’ve been hiding at the hotel with five extremely protective men surrounding me. Not considering I can’t turn around without being reminded of the heightened security—all the motion sensors and alarms and a near-constant buzz of activity as the men investigate my case.
But my mind keeps going back to those moments when it sure as hecklookedlike Rafe wanted me just as much as I wanted him.
It may have been a while, but I still know what desire looks like. And the way Rafe looked at me? With that dark, heated gaze lingering on my lips? The way his jaw went tight and his posture went rigid, almost like he was fighting an internal battle with himself? The way his heart was frantically pounding when he hugged me?
It felt like he wanted me.
But after that: nothing.
Well, that’s not entirely true. He still touches me, but it’s more careful. Almost secretive. Not like how it was when it was just us at the first hotel, when he openly held my hand and hugged me. Now it’s subtle, like the light pressure of his hand on my back as we leave a room or the graze of his thumb across my palm—but even then, it’s only if no one’s looking.
Is he holding back because of Indy? Does he think Indy won’t approve?
Or did I read things all wrong and the desire IthoughtI saw was all in my head?
Ugh. Why are men so hard to understand?
I huff out a frustrated sigh as I force my attention back to my work. Working remotely definitely isn’t ideal, especially since my project is at a critical point. The lab work is done, at least for now, but I’d still rather be there to oversee everything in person. Instead, I’m stuck emailing and trying to hold conference calls without arousing suspicion that anything’s wrong.
The story I gave everyone is that I had a family emergency and I’m in DC right now, helping my brother. The guys—the team, I guess I’d call them—decided it would be better that way. So if the person behind my near-abduction is associated with my work, they won’t get tipped off that we’re looking for them.
It’s not great, that’s for sure. But given the alternative—working in the lab while trying to explain away why I suddenly have two menacing men lurking around me for my protection, plus the terrible possibility of danger following me there and putting my coworkers at risk—working from the hotel suite is the best option.
And thereisthe added bonus of getting to see Rafe all the time. Even if he’s not responding to my interest the way I wish he would, he’shere. Reassuring me with his presence. Making me smile with his silly trivia team name suggestions, like the Toasty Sandwiches and Scrambled Scientists. Asking me about my research, not out of politeness, but real interest. Finding a seemingly endless run of crazy documentaries to watch. Cooking for me, which I’ll never complain about—I’ve eaten better over the last two days than I have in years.
It’s nice having Indy here, too. Not like I haven’t seen him fairly recently; I flew out to spend the weekend with him justbefore all this craziness started. But actually having him around all the time, seeing that he’s really okay and his depression seems to be subsiding… It’s a relief.
Now that the secret’s out, it feels like an enormous weight has been lifted off me. And like Rafe said, once Indy came back from the gym, he was better. Not happy, but he didn’t look devastated, like he did when I first told him. He was comforting. Supportive. Protective.
