Rafe turned. “That’s a great idea, let’s make a video.”
Dean stepped between them. He was drunk too, so why wasn’t he staggering around? “Time for bed.”
Sure thing. He notched his thumb toward his house. Where his wife was sleeping. “I’ve got one over there. She didn’t come to me, so I’m going to her.”
“If she didn’t come out tonight, man, that means she doesn’t want you banging on her back door in the middle of the night.” Dean reached for him and Rafe danced out of the way. Except he wasn’t nearly as nimble as he wanted to be, and he tripped over his feet and tumbled sideways, hitting the ground hard.
“There’s a time and a place for crazy declarations of love, man, and this isn’t it.” Jake gestured to the house. “Want to crash on Dean’s couch? Think this over and maybe do it in the morning if it seems like a good idea once you piss out all that beer?”
“What do you know about love? She’s my fucking soul mate.”
Jake gave him a long, level look. “I know what it’s like to want something you can’t have.”
“I can have her.” He ground his teeth together.
“You’re divorced for a reason, Rafe. You guys fought constantly for months. Don’t you remember?”
He really didn’t. Sure, there had been a few fights, but all he could remember was the soft, warm heat of Olivia sleeping next to him and how much he fucking missed that. He turned away from his friends and looked toward Liv’s house again. He’d hopped the fence plenty of times when sober. And in the daylight. He took a running start and grabbed the top of the fence, heaving himself into the air. One leg got up and over the top rail, but his momentum was short of what he needed, and he just hung there like an overfed baboon before dropping to the ground, still on Dean’s property.
“Come on man, let me take you home.” Jake tapped him on the shoulder.
Maybe the beer was starting to wear off, or maybe he wasn’t as committed to acts of insanity as he should be for a man in love, but Rafe was done. “Sure.” He nodded a vague goodbye at Dean and trudged back to the truck.
Jake started laughing at him as he pulled away from the curb. “Fucking idiot. It’s only five degrees out tonight, you’re drunk as a skunk, there’s no moon, and you’re trying to hop a fence like a teenager.”
“Fuck you.” Rafe grinned. Whatever. He had five more months of acting like a fool—he didn’t need to spend it all in one night. “Speaking of acting like a teenager. I’m not so drunk I didn’t notice what you said earlier. Who are you pining for, anyway?”
Jake snorted. “Oh, the time for sharing has passed, trust me.”
— —
It turned out her willpower wasn’t completely shot after all. She’d curled up on the window seat in her bedroom and watched Rafe stumble drunkenly around Dean’s yard. Other than the first few shouts of her name, which had woken her up, she hadn’t heard anything he said. That didn’t stop her from watching him, though, her private perch allowing her to hungrily soak up the sight of him. Even drunk and disorderly Rafe was yummy.
She knew he’d be upset that she didn’t show up. She’d thought he might even come over and insist on dragging her out—or coming in. She’d been half-disappointed that he hadn’t, and when she’d gone to bed it had been to a bittersweet memory of the first stag and doe he’d ever taken her to. Of sitting on hard plastic chairs, drinking toonie drinks and dancing all night. Rafe got handsy when he drank, and she missed that possessive slide of his body against hers, his big hands stroking up her back and across her hips.
It would have been so easy to go downstairs and turn on the back light. Let him come in and sober up, maybe let him do some of that touching and brush it off the next day as a drunken mistake.
But they’d both know the truth. So she just watched instead, biting her lip, until long after Jake dragged him away and Dean’s yard went dark.
When she fell asleep, it wasn’t to a memory. Instead she dreamed of a late night visit, of muttered promises of renewed effort and quiet, desperate lovemaking. She woke up five hours later with her sheets tangled around her legs and she cupped her swollen sex. Lifted her hips in tiny, hard jerks. Touching herself and thinking of Rafe…the very opposite of emotional progress. As she spread her legs and dipped her fingers into her shockingly wet core, she promised herself that she’d find new fantasy material tomorrow. Or maybe the next day.
It didn’t take long. As always, she didn’t get much further than Rafe’s face between her legs before going off like a rocket. It had been far too long. Dani had urged her to go away for a weekend and have some vacation sex, but Liv couldn’t even fathom getting naked with someone else. And dating in Pine Harbour was out—all the single men were Minellis or Fosters.
Besides, the only man she wanted was Rafe. As long as he was around as a living, breathing example of exactly what did it for her, no man would measure up.
So she’d go another six months without sex. Once she moved away, it would be easier to start again. Date and kiss and—
She shuddered. Unless it was Joe Manganiello, who topped her “top 5 celebrities to sleep with” list, she just wasn’t interested. But maybe Joe would be cast in this movie. She snickered to herself at the possibility of actually seeing famous people in Pine Harbour.
Greg had sent her on three reconnaissance missions in the last week, and her first paycheque had been deposited into her account. It was nice to see the extra zeroes on the balance line, but that didn’t make the project any more real.
And from the little she gleaned from the information she had, she doubted there were many sexy male lead roles.
She stepped into the shower and closed her eyes, letting the steam wake her up the rest of the way. Rafe looked a bit like Joe with shorter hair. Maybe she should transition her fantasies to a celebrity. But as soon as she pictured Joe kissing along her collarbone, Rafe showed up behind her. He cupped her breasts and lifted them for Joe to nuzzle his face between.
That wasn’t like Rafe at all. He wasn’t into sharing. She shampooed and tried to start again, but this time the fantasy was just two Rafes, front and back, and she gave up.
Masturbation would need to be off the table for a while, too. It was the only answer.