Chapter 20
Cece
Walking back into Liam and Evie’s living room felt like entering a spotlight with a guilty secret tattooed across my forehead.
Every step was an acute reminder of what I was missing beneath my dress, of Rafe's fingers exploring me minutes ago, and of his damn pocket where my underwear now resided like some kind of trophy.
My skin buzzed with leftover pleasure and fresh embarrassment as Rafe guided me back to our friends with his palm against the small of my back.
Izzy's eyes locked onto us the moment we rounded the corner and her wine glass paused halfway to her lips. Her gaze slid from my cheeks to my hair, then to Rafe's smug expression, and I watched understanding dawn across her face with horrifying clarity.
“Well, well,” she drawled, loud enough to make Kate and Tristan turn toward us. “Looks like someone had fun during their little... break.”
Heat crawled up my neck and spread across my face. I opened my mouth, but no clever retort emerged, just a strangled sound that might have been the death rattle of my dignity.
Rafe, the bastard, just chuckled. “We were just discussing breakfast options for tomorrow.”
I shot him a sideways glance, both grateful for the save and irritated by how composed he appeared while I was practically vibrating with leftover adrenaline and arousal.
“Right,” Izzy said, drawing out the word. “And I'm the Queen of England.”
“Your Majesty,” Rafe replied with a slight bow that made everyone laugh.
Everyone except me. Because all I could think about was the slide of his fingers and the maddening emptiness he'd left me with. To add to that, the absence of my underwear made me hyperaware of every movement.
“Dinner's ready,” Evie announced, emerging from the kitchen with a dish that smelled divine. “Sit wherever you like.”
I slipped into an empty chair, hoping Rafe would sit beside me, but Izzy claimed that spot with a mischievous wink.
Rafe ended up directly across from me, and I couldn't decide if that was better or worse.
Better because I wouldn't have to deal with his hand potentially wandering under the table.
Worse because now I had to stare at him throughout the entire meal.
“Wine?” Liam offered, holding a bottle of something expensive-looking over my glass.
“Yes, please,” I said with perhaps too much enthusiasm, earning another knowing smirk from Izzy.
Conversation flowed around me as plates were filled and wine was poured.
Kate was discussing some K-Pop concert she, Tristan, and Millie—their ward, who was really more like their daughter— attended.
Tristan added occasional comments, his hand never straying far from his wife's.
Liam kept Everlee's glass filled with sparkling water, his protective hovering so obvious it was almost comical.
Normal people doing normal couple things.
Meanwhile, I was sitting in an elegant dining room without underwear, watching my fake husband periodically slip his hand into the pocket of his pants where said underwear was hidden.
The first time he did it, I nearly choked on my wine. He made it look casual, almost absentminded, but his eyes flicked to mine for the briefest moment—dark, knowing, and so freaking hungry. I felt a fresh rush of wetness between my thighs and shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
“You okay?” Izzy asked, her voice low enough that only I could hear.
“Fine,” I managed, stabbing a piece of roasted vegetable. “Just... warm.”
“Mmm-hmm.” She wasn't buying it. “Nothing to do with whatever happened between you and Mr. Tall, Dark and Broody over there?”
I shot her a warning look, but she just grinned and took another sip of wine.
Across the table, Rafe was engaged in conversation with Liam about some business deal, looking for all the world like a man who hadn't just had his fingers inside me.
He laughed at something Tristan said and the sound rolled through me before settling low in my abdomen.
Even his laugh turned me on now. I was so fucked.
“So, Cece,” Kate called from the other end of the table, dragging my attention away from Rafe. “How's the fake married life treating you?”
All eyes turned to me, and I felt my face heat again. “It's... an adjustment,” I said carefully, taking a large gulp of wine to buy myself time. “But we're figuring it out.”
“I bet you are,” Izzy muttered into her glass.
Rafe's lips twitched. “Cecelia's been very... accommodating,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine. His hand slipped into his pocket again, and I pressed my thighs together under the table.
Everlee raised an eyebrow. “That doesn't sound like my sister.”
“People change,” Rafe replied, his eyes never leaving mine. “Given the right... motivation.”
Liam cleared his throat, looking between us with dawning suspicion. “More wine, anyone?”
The dinner continued, a symphony of clinking silverware and overlapping conversations that washed over me like white noise.
I tried to focus on my food, on the stories being shared, on anything but the pulsing need between my legs and the man responsible for it.
But every time I looked up, Rafe was watching me—sometimes openly, sometimes just quick glances that felt like physical touches.
I should have been mortified. Should have been plotting my revenge for the stunt he'd pulled in the gym.
Instead, I replayed it in my mind like a movie stuck in a loop.
The risk. The rush of nearly being caught.
The way he'd knelt before me, looking up with those dark eyes as he pulled my underwear down my legs. ..
“Earth to Cece,” Evie's voice broke through my inappropriate daydream. “Dessert?”
I blinked, realizing I'd completely missed whatever conversation had been happening. “Sorry, what?”
“I asked if you wanted dessert,” she repeated, giving me a strange look. “Are you feeling okay? You seem distracted.”
“I'm fine,” I assured her, though fine was the last thing I was. “Just tired. It's been a long week.”
“Rafe working you too hard?” Tristan asked innocently, but there was a gleam in his eye that suggested the double entendre was intentional.
I nearly spat out my wine.
“I try to be considerate of her... stamina,” Rafe replied smoothly, and I shot him a glare that promised retribution.
As dessert was served—something chocolate and decadent that I barely tasted—I had a startling realization.
The embarrassment that had initially consumed me had faded, and was replaced by something else entirely.
Something that felt dangerously close to exhilaration.
I liked the secret thrill of what we'd done.
Liked knowing that beneath my proper dress and polite dinner conversation was the reality of Rafe's touch, of desires I'd never acknowledged before.
The thought should have terrified me. Instead, it sent another pulse of heat between my legs.
By the time coffee was served, I was a mess of contradictions—exhausted yet wired, embarrassed yet aroused, wanting to escape yet desperate to see where this night would lead. Rafe must have sensed my internal chaos because he set down his cup and glanced at his watch.
“We should probably head out.” His voice was casual but his eyes were intense when they met mine. “Early meeting tomorrow.”
Goodbyes were exchanged, hugs given, promises to see each other in a week made. Evie pulled me aside as we were leaving, concern evident in her eyes.
“Are you sure you're okay?” she asked quietly. “You seem... different.”
I managed a small smile. “I'm good, Evie. Really. Just adjusting to all the changes.”
She studied me for a moment longer, then nodded. “Call me tomorrow?”
“Promise.”
Rafe's hand returned to the small of my back as we headed for the elevator, the weight of it somehow both possessive and steadying. When the doors closed, sealing us in together, I expected him to pounce, to press me against the wall and finish what he'd started in the gym.
Instead, he maintained a careful distance, eyes forward, jaw tight. Only the rhythmic flexing of his hand at his side betrayed any tension.
The silence continued as we retrieved his car and pulled into the late-night Manhattan traffic.
Rafe drove with precision, but I noticed his fingers drumming against the steering wheel, a nervous tic I'd never seen from him before.
His usual composure seemed to have evaporated, replaced by an energy that made the air between us crackle with anticipation.
“Are you going to tell me where we're going?” I finally asked, unable to bear the suspense any longer.
His eyes remained fixed on the road. “You said you'd go anywhere with me.”
“That was before you left me hanging in Liam's gym,” I reminded him, though there was no bite in my words.
A hint of a smile touched his lips. “Patience, Cecelia.”
“Not my strong suit.”
“I've noticed.”
We fell into silence again as he navigated through less familiar streets, moving away from the glittering towers of midtown into an area I didn't recognize.
The buildings here were older, industrial looking, with fewer lights and pedestrians.
He finally pulled up to a nondescript building with a simple black door and no signage.
Nothing about it screamed exclusive or high-end, but the sleek cars parked nearby told a different story.
Rafe killed the engine and sat for a moment, his hands still gripping the wheel. I'd never seen him so... uncertain. It was both strange and oddly endearing.
“Rafe?” I prompted. “What is this place?”
He turned to me, and the raw vulnerability in his expression took my breath away. “We're at a sex club.”
I choked on air. “A what?”
“A sex club,” he repeated, the words coming out in a rush. “It's private, exclusive. Members only. Very discreet. We don't have to go in if you don't want to. I just thought... but maybe this is too much, too soon. We can go home.”
His nervous rambling was so unlike him that I almost laughed. Almost. But the seriousness in his eyes stopped me.
“You come here often?” I asked instead, still trying to process this new information.
He nodded and that muscle in his jaw jumped again. “Yes.”
“And what exactly would we...ah…do inside?” The question came out more breathless than I'd wanted it to.
“Whatever you're comfortable with,” he said carefully. “There's no obligation to participate. Some people just watch. Some participate. Some do both. It depends on what you want.”
I studied him, noticing the tightness around his eyes, the way he was bracing himself for my reaction. “And what do you usually do here?”
A long beat of silence followed. “I watch.”
Suddenly so many things clicked into place—the intensity of his gaze when he'd first seen me, the way he always seemed to be observing or cataloging reactions.
“You watch,” I repeated, turning the idea over in my mind. “You don't participate?”
He shook his head. “No. I just... I like to see. To observe pleasure without...” He trailed off, searching for words. “Without being directly involved.”
“But you touched me...” I began, confused.
“That was different,” he said quickly. “That was you. With you, I want... more.”
The raw honesty in his voice made my heart skip.
I looked from the unmarked door of the club back to Rafe's anxious expression.
This clearly mattered to him, showing me this part of himself, this secret he'd kept hidden.
And despite the shock, despite the strangeness of it all, I was more intrigued than repulsed.
Maybe it was the lingering arousal from earlier. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was simply that Rafe de Luca, with all his sharp edges and hidden depths, had somehow gotten under my skin in ways I hadn't anticipated.
Whatever the reason, I reached for the door handle.
“I want to go in,” I said, the words sending a thrill of nervous excitement through me.
Rafe's eyes widened slightly, as if he hadn't expected my answer. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I nodded, surprising even myself with how certain I felt. “Show me.”