Two Against the Odds

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He met her gaze straight on. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Growling low in her throat, she pulled him down on top of her on the bed in a tangle of limbs, tongues and hands. She was aching to feel him inside her. His biceps tensed as he poised over her. His thighs nudged between hers. So much power, so much heat. Lexie ran her restless hands over his hips, urging him.

Thick and hard, he plunged. Lexie thrust her hips upward until he filled her completely. She savored the delicious sensation, her legs trembling with strain.

He thrust again, grinding into her, his breath hot against her cheek. “Tell me if I’m too rough.”

She was so aroused she couldn’t speak.

His low voice rumbled next to her ear, saying wicked things that made her laugh and gasp. And all the time he was moving, pumping, hard and fast.

She climaxed quickly in a white heat that obliterated everything but the waves of pleasure pulsing through her. Dimly she was aware of Rafe, every muscle taut as he strained above her. And then an unearthly groan as he spilled himself into her.

RAFE OPENED his eyes. In the dim light of Lexie’s bedroom he could see her tangled blond hair, a bare shoulder and a small square of pillow. He nuzzled her neck, breathed in her scent.

He rolled over onto his back. She stirred sleepily and rolled with him, draping an arm across his chest.

Suddenly he felt very cold.

What the hell had he been thinking?

Obviously, he hadn’t been thinking.

He didn’t want to think. He wanted to bury himself in Lexie again. To trace the whorls of the shell tattoo on her hip with his tongue, to dip lower, licking his way up the slender muscle of her inner thigh. He was getting hard again just thinking about it.

Larry didn’t have to hear about this.

Not if Rafe did the audit properly, everything aboveboard. No fudging to save Lexie money. No going easy on her, overlooking the odd painting sale to reduce her income. After all, she wasn’t expecting anything like that—

Was she?

He felt even colder. Could she have seduced him so he’d reduce her taxes? People tried offering much less with the same expectation.

Nah. That was crazy. She wasn’t the type.

On the other hand, how well did he really know her?

LEXIE PEERED over the mound of files between her and Rafe. The best sex she’d ever had, bar none. This morning, though, he was ignoring her. He’d barely looked at her.

“Can I claim video rentals?” she asked.

Rafe kept his head down, the calculator clicking nonstop. “Did they inspire you to paint?”

“Everything inspires me.” She frowned at the receipt in her hand. “Except doing my taxes.”

“Claim the video.”

She dropped it on the Save pile.

Theirs was just a fling, she knew that. Rafe was a government tax agent. She’d known him for all of two days. As soon as the audit was over he’d be hitting the road.

Anyway, he was too young for her.

“Dinner at the pub?” she asked, moving on to the next receipt.

“Not unless it was a meeting with a gallery owner or a potential buyer or somehow business-related.”

She tossed the receipt in the rubbish bin. Going through receipts was the most boring thing in the world. Her gaze kept drifting to Rafe. She wanted to go over there and wrestle him to the ground and kiss him until he cried uncle.

She rose restlessly, and paced through the living room, coming to a halt at the bookshelf. The quietly ticking skeleton clock caught her eye. She carried it back to the table.

Lexie laid her chin on her folded hands and studied the series of linked wheels of decreasing size. In the time it took the largest wheel to turn a quarter of the way around, the next wheel had spun a full circle and the next one down had gone around five times. The final wheel turned a spring that was coiled in a loose spiral that expanded and contracted with each click of a cog.

Like a heartbeat.

The minute hand ticked over to twelve and the hour hand pointed to three. There was a whirring noise and a tiny hammer struck a chime.

She glanced up to share her delight and found Rafe watching her. Finally, he was looking at her. “Do you want to…” She nodded in the direction of her bedroom.

A red flush spread across his cheeks. “I have to get this finished.”

God, what was wrong with her? She shouldn’t have been so direct. She was scaring him. But they couldn’t just act as if nothing had happened. Last night they’d stopped long enough to eat dinner then had gone back to bed. He’d gotten up before she awoke and went back to his B&B.

“I know what’s going on,” she said. “You’re feeling guilty because you’re not supposed to sleep with clients.”

“Something like that.” he muttered.

“That doesn’t mean you have to ignore me,” she said matter-of-factly. “Last night was amazing. Can’t we just accept that we have this freakish natural chemistry and enjoy it until you have to ride into the sunset?”