Out of Focus (Love in LA #3)

Page 64



This time, however, rather than stopping at my cheek, he lets his lips hover over mine. Our eyes meet, and he whispers, “Now.”

Then, his lips are finally, finally, finally on mine. Just a touch at first, then his tongue swipes over my bottom lip, and my lips part on a sigh. He brings a hand to my jaw, guiding me where he wants me, and when our tongues meet, a moan that is nothing short of indecent rolls through me. He tastes of coffee and shortbread, and God, I could taste nothing else for the rest of my life, and that would be perfectly okay.

When he slows our kiss and draws back, I whimper at the loss, having been so fully consumed by his mouth, his touch, and him, that I forgot we’re in a public place.

“Fuck, red, we should have been doing this a lot sooner.” He runs his thumb over my lower lip as I scowl.

“You’re the one who’s been holding off,” I scold.

He chuckles, not taking his hands off me. “I meant a lot sooner than today. If I’d known kissing you would feel like this, I would have done it a long time ago. I can’t believe I’ve lived this long without knowing what these lips taste like.” He steals another chaste kiss, as if he just can’t help himself.

“You say that as if I would have let you.” I smile and try to smooth his hair, but it’s probably a lost cause. He laughs almost silently, his chest shaking.

“You’re right.” His eyes glisten as he studies me more closely than ever before, the attention making me feel wanted and precious. It’s a completely new and foreign sensation, but with him, it feels safe.

“I like the way those words sound coming out of your mouth.” I lower my hand to cradle his cheek.

His teasing smile makes his dimples pop, and I sigh, loving the sight of them so up close.

“I have a lot more things I’d like to say to you, shortcake.” Before I can ask him what those might be, the doorbell rings again. I sit back to put a little bit of distance between us, but when I try to lower my legs to the floor, Rafael holds me in place. “Let’s just, uh, stay like this a minute, okay?”

I flush as an understanding of what he’s asking me lands. I fight back a smile, knowing that he’s as turned on as I am. “Oh. Oh. Right. Yeah.”

“Hi again. I have your desserts boxed up here. Is there anything else I can get for you two?” My back is to the door where Morgan is standing, and I’m thankful he can’t see my reddened cheeks and surely swollen lips.

“I think we’re all good, Morgan.” Raf calls out. “I left a card on the table if you want to settle us up, please.” He’s completely unfazed by the situation, his hand casually running up and down my calf as if we had just been sitting here drinking our coffee and tea, talking about the weather.

I suppose we’re going to have to leave now, drive back to Santa Monica, and go our separate ways. I’m not ready for the night to end, though. I want more. More kisses, yes, but also just more of this. Being close, learning this new side of Rafael—and of myself, too.

When Morgan leaves again, Rafael squeezes my calf, bringing my attention back to him. “You all right?” The concern in his voice brings guilt into the frenzy of emotions already weighing on my sternum.

“Yeah. Yeah, uh, I guess I was just feeling a little bit sad that the night is ending.” I press a hand to my chest, trying to break up the heaviness there.

“Oh, my sweet strawberry shortcake, the night is not over yet.” Well, I officially have a favorite nickname.

“It’s not?” I smile, trying to stifle the bubbly feeling in my belly by biting my lower lip.

“It’s not. And if that fact makes you smile like this, I’ll promptly make sure the night doesn’t end at all. Ever.” He looks at me like he’s trying to memorize every detail of my face.

“Is that so? You going to lasso the moon and make it so the sun doesn’t rise?” I tease.

“If that’s what I need to do, then hell yeah.” Despite the playfulness of our conversation, he’s serious.

“Just for a smile?”

“No, not for just any smile. For your smile.”

33/

blimey, i might be in trouble.

charlie

We left the restaurant the same way we walked in, hand-in-hand, and yet it now feels like two completely different people walked out of there. Rafael hasn’t taken his hand off me since. Currently, it’s resting on my knee. He squeezes lightly, pulling my attention to him.

“You still like old rom coms, right?” His focus remains on the road, eyes only flicking my way for a second.

“Yeah, I do. But how do you know I like them?” I know for a fact we have never talked about this.


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