Bared Read online

  He felt a little unnerved to find her looking at him as though someone had shot her puppy, so he moved around the equipment that an assistant was putting away and walked toward her.

  She didn’t run, but she looked as if she might be on the verge. She looked unsure and unhappy, and his heart cracked as he gazed at her.

  Having no idea what he would say, he kept moving toward her.

  Her eyes were huge, her fingers clasped together, and, as she did when she felt unsettled, she was nibbling on her lower lip. He wondered, Did she feel any of what he did? How could she not?

  One thing he could see was the fear beneath the nerves, and he understood that all too well. With a hope that was startlingly intense, he increased his pace, and when he was about ten feet from her she did something not so surprising.

  She whirled and ran. She bunched up her skirt a little in her fists, hitting the sand running, her peasant-style blouse fluttering around her torso, her long flowing skirt brushing her calves and knees.

  “Emma, wait!”

  When she didn’t, he whirled back to the assistant and Jen, both of whom were watching the second show in as many minutes, looking utterly captivated. “Jen—”

  She lifted a hand toward the equipment. “I’ve got it.”

  Knowing he could leave the expensive camera and equipment without worry, he started after Emma.

  This part of Malibu was all private beach, but there were also jagged rocks and bluffs that made it impossible to see more than the immediate stretch of sand before him. Following Emma around one rock larger than his entire garage, he found himself in a small cove, completely buffeted from view by the bluffs.

  Emma stood right at the water’s edge, her back to him, her shoulders heaving with exertion with each breath.

  “Emma.”

  Her shoulders stiffened, but she didn’t turn toward him.

  “The crew is going to be talking about tonight for a while to come,” he said.

  “I didn’t meant to make things difficult for you.”

  “You know I don’t care about that.”

  Bending, she picked up a rock and chucked it as far into the pounding waves as she could, shielding her eyes against the moon’s glow to try to see the rock as it hit.

  “Why did you run?”

  She picked up another rock. “Because I’m a writer who can’t seem to articulate her feelings.”

  For a man used to provoking feelings in people with his work, he hadn’t done such a great job articulating his, either. “What’s going on, Emma?”

  She reached for another rock. “I’m happy for Amber. For the first time in her life, she’s in a good place. She’s got a job she actually wants and a man to boot, one who will be good for her for a change.”

  Sensing her loneliness, maybe because it matched his, he moved up behind her. A strand of her hair whipped in the wind, catching on his jaw. Her skirt entwined in his legs, making them feel as if they were touching even though they weren’t.

  “So you’re happy for Amber. That’s why you ran.”

  “I ran because I had all these strange feelings rushing through me, with jealousy leading the pack, and I didn’t like what that said about me. And then I looked up and saw you, and…”

  “And…?” Though she had Don’t Touch signs all over her, starting with her stiff shoulders and the way she still hadn’t turned to look at him, he lifted his hand and stroked her arm, stroked up and down, and then entwined their fingers.

  “And I wanted you,” she whispered, squeezing his fingers. “I wanted you to follow me.”

  “For sex on the beach?”

  After a slight pause, in which he held his breath and his heart didn’t beat, she nodded.

  “Yes.”

  He felt a flash of disappointment, because for that one moment in time, he’d wanted to hear something else entirely. He turned her toward him, shocked to find her eyes swimming in tears.

  “Hey,” he said softly, and he cupped her face. A teardrop hit his thumb. “What’s this?”

  She shook her head and slowly wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her mouth to his. “I don’t want to talk,” she murmured. “I want to feel.” Tossing back her head to study the sky, exposing her slim throat and thrusting her breasts to his chest, she said, “It’s a beautiful, glorious night and I don’t want to be alone.” Then she looked at him with her soul in her eyes, breaking his heart. “Tell me you still want me.”

  He stared at her, into her beautiful, wet eyes, into the face he dreamed about, at the body he wanted more than anything. “Yes. Yes, I still want you, but—”

  She put her fingers to his lips and then slowly ran them over the sensitive flesh, back and forth, her eyes dark and promising. “No buts.”

  Right. No regrets, no overthinking…Just living for the moment, at least when it came to this woman. He dragged his mouth down her throat, nibbling, tasting, licking, absorbing her gasp of pleasure.

  She sank her fingers into his hair, holding his head close as he worked his way over her collarbone and toward a breast. “Yes.”

  They sank to their knees in the sand. She needed, he needed, and beneath the glorious midnight sky, they were going to fulfill those needs. Even as a small part of her realized this was only a momentary fix for the strange and inexplicable…loneliness coursing through her, she didn’t care.

  Because Rafe kissed like heaven. He tasted like heaven.

  He made her feel as though she was in heaven.

  The cove was protected and extremely private. No one else could access it, except through the house they’d rented for the shoot, but so great was her hunger for him that shamelessly, she didn’t even care.

  He pulled his shirt over his head, laid it out behind her and then followed her down.

  There was something about the soft, giving, still-warm sand beneath her and Rafe’s hard but giving body above her. She nearly cried out in pleasure from the contact. Pulling his head to hers, she kissed him, kissed him long and deep and hard, kissed him until all her thoughts scattered like the wind around them.

  Bracing his weight on his elbows, he framed her face with his hands, sweeping her hair out of their way. “You’re so beautiful, Emma.” As if painting a picture, he ran a finger lightly over her lips, her jaw, her throat, her shoulder, until her entire body throbbed for his touch.

  And then he slipped off her onto his side. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promised when she murmured a protest, continuing his exploration of her body with his fingers.

  She arched up, ran her hands up his arms, over his chest. “Rafe. Hurry.”

  “Getting there.” Unbuttoning her blouse, he spread the material wide and then did the same to her front-clasp bra, baring her to the dark night and his equally dark gaze. Cupping a breast, he teased the tip with his thumb, coaxing a thready moan from her throat just before he bent to suck her into his mouth.

  Sliding her fingers through his hair, she held his head close to her body, tossing back her own. Above her the stars glowed, while Rafe made her body do the same. His fingers danced down her quivering belly, then slowly bunched up her skirt, baring first her lower legs and then her thighs, all while his mouth continued to suck and nibble at her breasts. His tongue laved over the very tip, over and around, and then he used his teeth, lightly scraping her sensitized flesh until she could hardly stand it.

  His fingers skimmed up past her panties now, so that she felt the cool night on her belly. He ran his fingers over the silk of her panties.

  Her legs fell open for him.

  His fingers took advantage of that, tracing her right down the center and then slowly back up, this time slipping beneath the silk. His knuckles grazed her bare flesh, ripping a shockingly needy sound from her throat.

  At that, he set his big hand on her inner thigh and urged her legs open even farther, then gripped the crotch of her panties in his hand, dragging them aside enough to fully expose her to the night air.

  He tore his mouth