My thighs trembled.

  My stomach tightened.

  Rafe’s thumb slicked over me and took me right over the edge.

  As my body succumbed to the powerful orgasm, Rafe scattered kisses down my body, stopping a while at my breasts to kiss and lick and suck. I was primed from that alone as he kissed his way down my stomach and then pushed open my thighs.

  My back bowed off the bed as his tongue circled my clit. I watched him between my legs, his eyes on mine as he sucked on my clit, licked, thrust his tongue into me, all until I was a writhing, flushed puddle of want beneath him. Our neighbors beyond the bedroom wall probably heard my cry of release as my climax hit.

  I’d barely recovered when Rafe crawled over me and pinned my hands above my head. Face etched with hard desire, he thrust inside me, and my inner muscles clamped around him greedily.

  “Fuck!” Rafe pumped slow but hard, his fingers lacing with mine and holding me down so I was completely at his mercy. To my amazement, the pressure grew inside me again.

  I moved my hips against his drives, and this seemed to lead to his complete loss of control.

  Rafe released my hands and got onto his knees, gripping my thighs, opening them wider. And then he pounded into me. Holy shit. I teetered on the edge of another epic orgasm.

  “Take everything.” Rafe’s words were guttural, rough, husky, sexy. “I’m yours, baby, take everything I have.”

  I came on a scream.

  And I knew it was his words that pushed me over the edge.

  Rafe’s eyes widened as I squeezed around him, the orgasm hitting me fiercely and doing so for him too. He made a choked sound of awe and his hips stuttered, the muscles in his neck corded, and his teeth gritted. Then he collapsed over me as he throbbed with release inside me.

  “Fuck, Star, fuck.” His chest heaved and he released his bruising grip on my thighs to fall to my side. Then I was in his arms again as we tried to catch our breath.

  “You understand, right?” Rafe asked in a quiet rumble after a few minutes had passed.

  I lifted my head to meet his gaze. Because . . . understand what?

  He saw my confusion and I thought I saw a flash of disappointment in his face, but if it had been there, he kissed me as if it hadn’t.

  “Rafe?” I whispered once our lips parted.

  “Go to sleep, baby. It’s been a long day.”

  Because it had been just that, I closed my eyes and decided to dwell only on the bliss of our spectacular lovemaking, and not on the sensation of dread that had been desperate to take over me for the last few weeks.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Rafe’s kiss good-bye that morning had been a quick peck of the lips in his kitchen before I slipped out to make the early meeting Pamela had with another client. The whole nine to five, Monday to Friday, was a sham. For the last six weeks, since starting with Pamela, I’d worked all kinds of hours.

  I’d seen my friends once in that whole time, and I hadn’t spoken to any of them in a week because their texts were as dry and as empty as Rafe’s kiss.

  Rafe was pulling away from me.

  Taking on more hours at the clinic, while I took on more hours in the office.

  Sometimes we were like ships passing in the night, except we stopped for sex. The sex was still awesome. But it seemed like it was the only time we really connected. Like . . . it was the only thing keeping us connected.

  “A seven a.m. start again?” Rafe commented that morning upon returning from the gym to find me stepping out of the shower.

  “Yeah.”

  “You know you don’t have to stay in this job if you don’t want to,” he’d remarked.

  “It’s fine.” I’d shrugged.

  “Do you even like it?”

  “Yeah, it’s fine.”

  His expression had hardened in that way that made my stomach twist and, without another word, he’d slipped past me into the bathroom.

  What could I tell him? Pippa, Jen, even Gigi, they were so happy I was doing well in this job with Pamela. Things were better between Hugo and Rafe, and Hugo had made no snide comments toward me. In fact, he’d been perfectly pleasant. We were all getting along great.

  Mercurious had gone to auction and the original company interested in purchasing it won, so the takeover would be underway soon. The Whitmans were at peace with it, which mattered more than anything else.

  I couldn’t rock the boat by quitting the job with Pamela.

  Though it wouldn’t matter about any of it if Rafe was losing interest in me. I was just so confused. When we made love, it didn’t feel like he wasn’t interested in me, but . . . we didn’t talk anymore. I couldn’t because I was afraid of what I might say and he . . . he just seemed frustrated with me all the time. Maybe the shine had worn off Star Shine Meadows after all.

  I was lonely.

  “What do you think? Star?”

  A hand waved in front of my face and I blinked rapidly, coming out of my depressed musings to find Pippa staring at me across the small bistro table, wide-eyed. Pamela sat next to her, one elegant eyebrow raised in concern. We’d squeezed in a quick coffee break with Pippa this morning.

  “What?” I stared at them and then shook my head. “Sorry. I was somewhere else.”

  Pippa waved off my daydreaming. “It’s fine. We were just saying we think you should change your name.”

  I laughed softly. “Right.”

  “No. I’m serious,” Pippa said, seriously.

  My pulse increased as that knot of dread in my gut tightened. “Change my name?”

  “Yes. Star just isn’t a name that people take seriously. You’re a professional now. You should have a strong name.”

  “Meadows is a little wishy-washy too,” Pamela added.

  “Oh, but that shouldn’t be an issue.” Pippa shrugged. “She’ll be a Whitman soon enough.”

  “Really?” Pamela smiled at me. “Things are that serious between you and Rafferty?”

  “Of course they are. Rafe is nothing if not a serial monogamist. He has an MO. Meets girl, practically has her living with him within the first few weeks, then actually living with him within a few months. He usually dates the same woman for several years and has never proposed, but he’s getting on a bit and, this time around, I can see him popping the question soon.”

  Wait. What? Reeling, I practically wheezed out, “His MO?”

  Pippa frowned. “Yes, Mr. Serial Monogamy.”

  So she was telling me that all the exciting rush of wanting to be with each other all the time wasn’t because it was me Rafe was with. It was because that was just who Rafe was in a relationship?

  I wasn’t special? He hadn’t embroiled me so deeply into his life because I differed from the women who had come before me? It was because it was his MO?

  I sucked in a breath as I remembered our conversation in his car that night after family dinner. He’d reiterated that he’d never loved Camille or any of the women he’d dated. The only woman, outside of family members, he’d ever said “I love you” to was his high school sweetheart.

  Never since.

  He hadn’t told me either.

  Right.

  Okay then.

  Having no clue that my heart was cleaving in half before her, Pippa leaned toward me. “Now, what about Sarah?”

  “Excuse me?” I still wasn’t over the devastating implication that I was just a cycle in Rafe’s relationship routine. That I wouldn’t be the one he said those three little words to. Because surely he’d know by now. He’d have said the words by now.

  “Sarah instead of Star. Sarah Whitman is a strong name. And of course you’ll need to drop the middle name entirely.”

  “Oh God yes,” Pamela agreed.

  As I listened to Pippa and my boss prattle on about my name change, I envisioned myself as Cartoon Star, transforming from a cute ray of sunshine into a storm cloud, until eventually my cloud filled with so much water, it didn’t rain . . . it just exploded until there was nothing left of Star Shine Meadows.

  * * *

  • • •

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Rafe asked abruptly as we rode in the back of the taxi that was taking us to Brooklyn.

  Rain pelted down outside as we made the journey to the engagement party we’d been invited to. It was hosted by Rafe’s friend from college, Nick, and Nick was getting married to his best friend Josh. Rafe told me they were childhood friends who’d only recently realized they were so much more, and usually I’d be excited to talk to them and find out about their romantic story. However, I felt a strange kind of numb as we sat in our nice party clothes, approaching our destination.

  “About what?” I watched the rain-slicked streets pass by.

  “You’ve been quiet all night. In fact, you’ve been quiet for weeks.”

  I looked at him. Pot meet kettle. “You’re one to talk.”

  Rafe frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “Just that you’ve been quiet too. Distant.”

  He scowled. “I’ve been distant?”

  “We’re here,” the cabdriver announced as he slowed to a stop outside the building.

  Thankfully, we didn’t have time to pick up our conversation because we bumped into Owen and his date, Nadine, inside the building’s foyer. Owen had been dating Nadine for three weeks, and I’d bumped into her once at the clinic.

  Rafe and Owen made small talk about work while I complimented Nadine on her earrings and she complimented me on the crippling stilettos I wore. Pippa had picked out a few new dresses for me to wear at fall events, and I’d donned one of them for this party. It was a green silk dress with a 1940s silhouette that was actually kinda cute. I didn’t mind it as much as some of the other crap I wore lately.

  It was October now, so I wore a light coat that I wore to the office most days.

  Wow, just hearing myself say that sentence in my head was weird.

  The next twenty minutes passed in no time as Rafe introduced me to Nick and Josh and about a million other people whose names I couldn’t remember. They were a fun group, though, and I relaxed enough to enjoy myself. The couple lived in a large apartment, but it was traditional, with a separate living room, kitchen, bedrooms, and bathrooms. Soon, all the social spaces filled up with guests.

  Including Rafe’s ex-girlfriend Camille Westmoreland.

  She hadn’t approached us yet, but she’d lifted a glass of champagne in Rafe’s direction.

  “What is she doing here?” I frowned.

  Rafe shrugged. “She became good friends with Nick when she and I were together.”

  Great.

  A little while later, I excused myself to use the bathroom. There was a small line, so I had to wait. By the time I returned to where I’d left Rafe in the living room, maybe only ten minutes had passed.

  Yet that was enough time for Camille to make her move.

  I hadn’t forgotten her catty comment the last time we’d met. How she would wait for Rafe to get serious about his life. Like I wasn’t serious.

  Apparently I still wasn’t. I’d tried a new job, dressing the part, but Pippa still wanted me to change my name. It was actually unbelievable.

  I reminded myself I was doing this for Rafe, for the Whitmans, and for me. I’d never felt about anyone the way I felt about Rafe, and I also longed to be a part of a family like his. It was a secret longing, one I didn’t even know existed inside me until I met them and fell in love with the idea.

  I’d twisted myself up like a pretzel to keep the dream going.

  My so-called boyfriend, who was part of that dream, was standing laughing with his ex-girlfriend while she played with the lapel on his suit jacket. What happened to his disdain for her? Last time we met her he could barely utter two words because wasn’t this the woman who cheated on him?

  My pulse raced as I studied the way Rafe tilted his head toward her in a familiar way. It was to hear her better. She got close to speak into his ear, her hand flattening on his chest (my chest!), and Rafe smiled at whatever she said.

  The last time we bumped into Camille, he had no time for her, and now that things were dicey between him and me, he was flirting with her?

  Had he moved Camille into his life as quickly as he’d moved me? Would I be the next woman he dated for years without really being in love with and then dump me to move on to the next to see if she sparked that elusive feeling in him?

  As if he sensed me, Rafe’s eyes flew across the room and he saw me.

  I stared at him in open disgust and turned on my heel. I needed a drink and the bar was in the kitchen.

  Jealousy and hurt burned in my chest as I pushed my way to the kitchen counter where the hired bartenders mixed cocktails. I slapped a hand down on the counter to get their attention. “Whiskey, whatever you got, straight up.”

  A hand slid across my back and I jerked in surprise to find it was a stranger I’d pushed past to get to the bar. He leaned into me, his hand pressing deeper into my back. “Drowning your sorrows, gorgeous?”

  “Yup, sure am.” The bartender pushed the shot glass of whiskey toward me. “Thanks.” I shoved a tip toward him as I took the glass and threw back the whiskey.

  It burned like a motherfucker down my throat and then exploded in a cascade of heat across my chest. “Another.”

  “Make that two.” The guy said. He still had his hand on my back. It felt icky and presumptuous, but I didn’t shove him off. Rafe had let Camille put her hands all over him, after all. If I were the Star Shine Meadows of six months ago, I wouldn’t have given a rat’s ass if a handsome stranger came on to me while I was on a date with another man, because that Star had smart rules against monogamy!

  “Friend of the groom or the groom?” I inquired.

  The stranger laughed. “I work with Josh. I’m Brent.”

  “She doesn’t care and get your hand off her.”

  I stiffened at Rafe’s voice, and Brent and I turned to look up at my boyfriend, whose face was harsh with anger.

  Brent dropped his hand, muttered something unintelligible under his breath, and hurried away.

  Scaredy-cat.

  “Whiskey,” the bartender said.

  I whirled around and threw back the second shot.

  I felt Rafe’s heat at my back and then his lips near my ear as he demanded, “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I’m drinking.” I shrugged without looking and silently ordered another whiskey from the bartender. But the bartender was looking at Rafe, and whatever he saw there made him turn away to serve someone else. I glared up at Rafe. “Are you just determined to ruin my night?”

  His hand wrapped tight around my biceps. “Come with me.”

  Not wanting to make a scene at his friend’s party, I bristled but allowed Rafe to lead me out of the kitchen. To my surprise, he led me out of the apartment.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Home.”

  Home?

  Icy silence settled between us as Rafe dropped my hand to hit the button for the elevator. As we got on and it descended to the first floor, I felt an invisible pressure on my chest as the tension between us grew with our silence.

  “Rafe?”

  “We’ll talk at home,” he bit out, as he pulled out his phone. “I’m booking an Uber.”

  “So we’re just not going to talk until we’re back at the apartment?” I seethed as my panic increased.

  Rafe cut me a dark look. “We’re not doing this in public.”

  My stomach somersaulted. Right.

  If I could have smooshed myself up closer to the passenger-side door of the Uber that arrived, I would have. Anything to be sitting as far away as possible from the man who was about to hurt me worse than anyone ever had.

  I almost didn’t get on the elevator in his building. A huge part of me just wanted to bolt instead of endure the coming conversation. However, a bigger part of me was so pissed at him for dragging this out and I wanted him to know it.

  As soon as I walked into his apartment, I made a beeline for the bathroom so I could start packing my shit.

  “What are you doing?” Rafe growled in irritation as he followed me in. I looked up at him in the reflection of the mirror and noted his eyes were on the toiletries I was shoving into my toiletries bag.

  When I turned to face him he pierced me with a look of anger and disappointment that made me want to smack him across the face.

  “No.” I pointed at him. “You don’t get to look at me like that.”

  “You let a stranger put his hand on you at the bar you were determined to get smashed at because you saw me talking to my ex? What? That qualifies you to flirt with someone else?”

  I laughed at the ridiculousness of his statement.

  Rafe’s expression darkened and I didn’t care if I’d never seen him look so angry.

  “I let another man touch me? I did that?”

  “Yes, and I want to know why!”

  “Uh, how about because the first chance you got, you were all over your ex and she was all over you?”

  “Bullshit.”

  “She was touching you!” I yelled. “Stroking your lapel and your chest and you were just letting her. What? Is it Humiliate Star Day?”

  His chin jerked in shock. “I . . . I wasn’t even aware of her doing that.”

  “Oh, so you’re that comfortable with her now that you just didn’t notice her petting you?” Tears burned my eyes. “Or remember that the last time we saw her, she told you she was pretty much waiting for you to dump me.”

  “Star—”

  Weeks of pent-up fears and frustrations bubbled between us. “No, no, seriously. I get it. You flirting with her. Makes sense.”