Chapter 12
JUNIPER
“Do not think this is an invitation to act like a fool, Rafe Bishop,” I say as I close my bedroom door.
He stands there, looking tall and handsome, and I swallow hard. I have no idea what I’m doing. I have no idea how I’ve ended up in this situation, but Rafe is here, in my room, and he’s spending the night. I feel like all my childhood dreams have come true, and yet I feel panicked as all get-out.
“Rosie and Sage didn’t seem surprised to see me,” he says with a smirk as he heads toward my bed.
“Well, probably because you keep showing up.”
“Yeah, but that’s normal, seeing as I am the brother of your best friend.”
“Yeah, but just because you’re the brother of my best friend doesn’t mean you’re going to scoop me off the stage.”
“And are you still mad at me for helping you escape from the wet T-shirt competition? Did you really want to show your tits that badly?”
I blush at his question. “Maybe I did.”
“We can re-create it right now if you really want to,” he says, licking his lips.
All of a sudden, he’s standing next to me, and I realize just how tall and muscular he is. His six-foot-two stature makes me feel tiny all of a sudden, and at five-eight, I’m no shrinking wallflower.
I stare into his deep blue eyes, at his dark hair, the way his skin glows under the light, and I shiver.
“I’m not going to give you a private show, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Pity,” he says, reaching down and touching the side of my face.
“What are you doing?”
“How many times are you going to ask me that question? What do you think I’m doing?”
“I think you’re trying to seduce me,” I say quickly.
He bursts out laughing, and I watch as he pulls off his dark leather shoes and then takes a seat on my bed.
“Comfortable,” he says as he leans back, making himself at home, like he belongs there.
“Are you going to sleep in your pants and shirt?” I ask him in surprise. I still feel like I’m in a dream.
“I wasn’t going to take off any clothes until you told me to.”
“Okay,” I say, shrugging, and head over to the other side of the room next to my desk and tap my fingers against it.
All of a sudden, I’m nervous. Like, really nervous, in a way that I haven’t felt in years, and my mouth feels dry. I just stand there.
“Cat got your tongue?” he says, and I turn back to look at him.
He stands up and walks across my small room and stands next to me. I feel his finger trace down the nape of my neck, and I shiver suddenly.
The way he touches me is light, feathery, delicious.
“You need to calm down, my darling,” he says softly as he presses his lips to the back of my neck. “I don’t bite, unless you want me to,” he growls into my ear, and I look up at him with wide eyes.
There’s an intense expression in his gaze, and I feel like I’ve made a bad decision. I feel like I should not have invited him into my room. I feel like Little Red Riding Hood, stuck with the wolf, who’s only just realizing that he’s about to eat her.
I made a mistake. I let him bait me into something that I’m not sure was the smartest thing I’ve ever done.
“Let’s talk about something,” I say quickly. “Let’s talk about movies.”
“Movies?” he says, looking disappointed. “What movies?”
“Let’s watch a movie,” I say, heading back over to the other side of the room. I grab my remote control and turn on the TV. “What do you want to watch?”
“You can decide,” he says as he comes back over.
I take a seat on the side of the bed, and he sits next to me.
“I don’t want to watch Showgirls, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Showgirls?” I stare at him. “Why would I want to watch Showgirls?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because it’s a little sexy, and there’s a couple of lap dance scenes, and maybe you needed some heads-up on how to give one.”
“I don’t need to watch a movie to figure out how to give a lap dance,” I say, laughing. “I’m pretty sure I can figure it out just fine by myself.”
“Have you ever given one?” he asks.
“No.”
“Okay. Well, that’s good.”
“I don’t plan on giving you one right now either, if that’s where you think this is going.”
“Would I assume that?”
“I didn’t say you assumed it, but I’m letting you know right now that if you think bringing up lap dances is going to make me all of a sudden want to give you a lap dance, you’re wrong.
Just like you were wrong when you brought up the wet T-shirt competition.
I’m not just going to go into my bathroom and hand you the shower hose and say, Spray me down so I can shake my boobies at you. ”
“Pity. I’d quite like to see your boobies again, all wet in your white T-shirt.”
“Really?”
“What? I’m just being honest. You know those men there last night weren’t there to talk to you about classical music or what movies you enjoyed. They were there to see your tits. So crass. Would you rather I lie? Would you rather I say they were there to find out if you were a good person?”
“No. Just like I won’t lie and say that women are interested in you for your sense of humor.”
“What? Are you trying to say I’m not funny?”
“I’m not trying to say it. I am saying it.”
“Ouch. So, I’m not funny.”
“You’re not.”
“So then, why are women excited to be with me?”
“I don’t know any women who are excited to be with you.”
I giggle loudly as his expression changes.
“Okay. I guess it’s just my devastatingly handsome good looks.”
“I suppose because it’s sure not your money.”
“Ouch. Is this because I’m not a billionaire?”
“I don’t care if you’re a billionaire or not, Rafe.”
“Good, because I’m not.”
“Well, good. I’m not looking for a billionaire.”
“Well, good. I’m not one.”
“I’m not looking for you either,” I say quickly, lest he think I’m saying I want him.
“Okay.” He runs his fingers through his hair.
“So, are we watching a movie? Are we going to argue back and forth about whether or not you want me, whether or not I’m a billionaire, whether or not you’re going to give me a lap dance, or whether or not you’re going to wet your T-shirt and shake your boobies at me?
Which, if I may say, you have beautiful breasts. ”
I lick my lips nervously. “Why are we talking about my breasts?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they crossed my mind, and I wanted to compliment you. I am allowed to give you compliments, aren’t I?”
“You can’t compliment my breasts.”
“Why not? I’ve seen them.”
“Yeah, but what about your comments is appropriate? Plus you didn’t see them for very long.
I bet you can barely remember them.” I don’t know why I’m having this conversation.
I feel like I just can’t stop myself. Maybe it’s because I get a secret thrill of pleasure any time we have a conversation. No matter how naughty it happens to be.
He leans forward. “If you think I’m lying, show them to me again, and I’ll give you a more accurate rating.”
“I mean, I’m in the light now, so what? You’re trying to say you didn’t see them properly last time?”
“I’m trying to say that I’d like to see them again.”
“You said in the car that you wouldn’t do anything I didn’t want you to do.”
“Looking is not touching. You know that.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to look. Or maybe I want to look at you.”
I watch as he quickly pulls off his shirt, and my jaw drops.
“What are you doing?”
“I thought you just said you wanted to look at me.”
“I said that maybe I wanted to look at you, and I only said that because … oh my gosh, Rafe.”
I feel exasperated, and he just chuckles.
But I can’t stop staring at his golden-tan chest. He is muscular, with a six-pack, and I lick my lips.
“Like what you see? Have I made you hungry?”
“Oh my gosh, do you know how you sound? You sound like an idiot.”
“My bad,” he says, laughing. “You want to take your top off now too?”
“Nope,” I say quickly.
“You like what you see.”
He looks pretty pleased with himself, and I scoff.
“I mean, you’re okay. I’ve seen better.”
“Of course you have,” he says.
Then, before I know what’s happening, he’s pulling his pants down, and now he’s just standing there in black briefs that leave nothing to the imagination. I can see the outline of his cock through the thin material, and my eyes don’t know where to look.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m getting ready for bed. I mean, it’s hot, and I would like to be comfortable. You’re lucky.”
“What do you mean, I’m lucky?”
“I normally sleep in the nude,” he says, winking.
I just stare at him.
“Okay. And I’m being respectful of you by sleeping in my briefs.”
“Okay, wow.”
“I mean, unless you want me to sleep au naturel, I really don’t care.”
“It really makes no difference to me whether you’re naked or not,” I lie through my teeth because obviously I don’t want him to be naked.
I do not want to see Rafe’s cock.
Okay, that’s a huge lie.
I want to see it badly. I want to touch it. I want to kiss it. I want to feel it in many different parts of my body, but there’s no way I’m going to let him know that, and there’s no way I’m going to let that happen.
While eighteen-year-old me would be dying in this moment, the me of present day is trying to keep it together.
“What are you doing?” I say quickly as I see his fingers reach the elastic of his waistband.
“You said you didn’t care.”
“So, I thought you would keep your briefs on,” I say quickly.
“Okay.” He grins. “I thought you didn’t care, so I was just going to make myself comfortable, but if it’s a big deal to you, of course, I won’t.”
“Really?”
I just stare at him, and he smiles.
“Really.”
He gets up on the bed and lies back. “This is really comfortable. Where’d you get your pillows from?”
“What do you mean, where did I get my pillows from?”
“I’m asking because I feel like I might want to get some because they feel more comfortable than mine.”
“You haven’t even spent a night on the pillows. You’ve been here for less than ten minutes. Your head has basically just touched the pillow, and now you want to know where I’m getting them from?”
“Juniper, would you like a massage? You seem particularly stressed tonight. Is there a reason why?”
“I’m stressed because you’re here in my bed and you’re wearing briefs.”
“You’re the one who said it was okay.”