Laurel got ready to head home, pausing to give one final unasked for bit of advice. “I’m glad you’re here, for Becky’s sake, but please—you’ve been gone a long time. You need to tread carefully. The Coleman clan is wonderful, and collectively, they’re a force of nature. But sometimes the individual people need a little careful handling.”
“Thank you.” He paused for a moment before his expression hardened. “I’ll think about what you said. I’m truly glad you told me.”
A little embarrassed now that the heat of the moment had passed, Laurel was still flushed when she made it back to the house. She slipped in the side door to access the part of the house she shared with Rafe without bumping into her mother-in-law.
She’d barely finished washing her face and was staring out the window, taking deep breaths, when a door opened behind her.
“Sitko? What are you hiding in here for?” Rafe crossed the room in three big steps and pulled her into his arms. His tone dropped a notch, hot enough to make her skin tingle. “Not that I mind finding you in our bedroom in the afternoon.”
Coming on three years together, and no matter how often she teased, he still called her by her old nickname.
She curled her arms around his neck and eased her body against his. “Maybe I knew you’d be home early and wanted to surprise you.”
He raised a brow, gaze dancing over her cheeks, which felt a lot hotter than they should’ve. “That’s as close to a lie as you can get without lighting up like a candle. What’s up?”
It took about ten minutes to share the whole story—Laurel talked fast—and at the end of it, Rafe looked as confused as Laurel felt.
“I’m not going to even try to figure out what’s going on at this point.” Rafe stroked his fingers through her hair, leaning in to brush his lips over hers. “My mom is strong, and she’s smart. And if there’s something she needs help with, we have to trust that she’ll ask.”
“That’s not how we do things in the Coleman family,” Laurel complained. “The Coleman way is to run in, scoop people up, and help them whether they want it or not.”
“You’ve been hanging out with Jaxi too much,” Rafe said with a grin as he backed Laurel to the wall. “In the meantime, I thought maybe I could distract my wife. Considering it is the afternoon, and we both happen to be home.”
A wall of muscle pressed against her, heat rising between them.
“Your mom was in the kitchen when I got home,” Laurel whispered.
“I passed her as I came into the house. She was headed to the barn for at least an hour,” he whispered back.
Because the one bad part about sharing a house with her mother-in-law was sex. As in, being quiet during.
Laurel hurriedly undid Rafe’s shirt, sliding her fingers over the warm planes of his muscular chest. “Someday I’d like to have sex on the kitchen table,” she murmured. “Our own kitchen table, when I’m not worried about anybody interrupting us.”
“Someday,” Rafe promised. He pushed her pants to the ground then stood and ripped her top over her head. His gaze heated as he examined her hungrily. “But for now, I’m just so thankful I get to do this.”
He dropped to his knees in front of her, one strong arm pinning her in place. Laurel leaned against the wall and let sensation rush over her as he pressed kisses along the edge of her panties.
“When did you get these?” His question was midway between a growl and a moan. He cupped her intimately, leaning back far enough to meet her eyes. “Silky purple. I like them.”
She wasn’t about to interrupt what was happening with a lengthy reminder she’d gone on another shopping trip that Ashley had been party to. No one came home without at least one naughty purchase when the woman was around.
Laurel offered the sexiest smile possible as she whispered, “Take them off me.”
“Soon.” Rafe slid his hand back and forth, gliding the sinfully soft fabric over skin that had grown hot and needy. His fingers pushed the panties gently between the folds of her sex as his thumb came down with deadly accuracy over her clit.
Somehow, she remained vertical. Maybe it was by grounding her fingers in his thick, coarse hair, the strands cool against her heated palms. Maybe it was the unyielding pressure of his forearm over her hips.