Chapter 8
NICOLETTE
It’s well past midnight, and I’ve just finished the best meal of my life. When he said he’d make me something to eat, I was thinking more like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, not the best chicken Caesar wrap I ever had. Who knew the fridge had been stocked?
“That was good. Thank you,” I tell him casually as I walk my plate to the sink, trying to avoid his intense gaze as I brush past him.
He’s leaning against the nearby wall, those well-defined arms crossed against his chest.
He sucks in an audible breath when my arm accidentally rubs against his forearm, and my skin tingles of its own making. It’s like he has the only switch to my body. Like he’s the only one who knows which buttons to push. He presses into me from behind and reaches a hand for the plate.
“Let me. You need to rest.” The cadence of his voice spreads through my insides like liquid fire.
I burn everywhere. Hurt everywhere. Want everything. This isn’t fair. This is pure torment.
“Uh, thank you.”
My heart thumps as I scurry behind him, watching his back flex while he scrubs the plate with a sponge. My fingers feather across my collarbone; I’m unable to peel my eyes off his body.
“How’s your shoulder?” he asks, still not looking at me.
The faucet turns off, and he’s drying the plate, taking his time like he doesn’t want to face me.
“It’s okay. The meds the doctor gave me are helping.”
He drops the plate gently and turns, bracing his palms on the counter, eyes slowly scanning mine. “If you’re still in pain, you tell me and I’ll give you more.”
“I’m fully capable of taking my own meds.” I fight the overwhelming feeling of those eyes on me. “I’m a grown woman.”
He scans his molten gaze from my lips right down to the apex of my thighs, then up again.
“I’m fully aware of that,” he drawls. “But I want to take care of you. So stop fighting me and let me do that.”
His voice is warmth and honey and everything safe.
He wants to take care of me…
My heart grows heavy. I know I’m reading too much into that. But I wish it meant more. Wish I could be his and he could be mine.
“I don’t need you to take care of me, Raphael,” I lie. “The last time you did, you told me I misunderstood what it meant. And believe me, I’ll never make that mistake again.” I cut him with a glare. “Now, point me to the bedroom. I’m tired.”
His face hardens, and he motions with a finger to a door on my left.
This log cabin is modest, not like the mansions he’s used to.
The main areas are comprised of the small white kitchen set to one side and the living space with black couches on the other.
A burning fireplace sits in the center of the living room with a white shaggy rug that looks soft enough to sleep on.
By the looks of this place alone, I’d imagine the bedrooms are tiny, yet I only see two other doors, one of which is the bathroom.
I probably won’t be able to sleep much anyway. It’s hard to fall asleep and stay asleep these days. Being on the run, constantly looking over my shoulder, it’s like my mind can’t shut down. The only way I can sleep is if I’ve been without it for days. Then I’ll pass out wherever I am.
But here, now, with him…how am I supposed to close my eyes and pretend I’m okay? That we’re okay? That we’re not stuck together because someone wants to kill me? But maybe having Raph close will somehow help ease my subconscious long enough to get even a few peaceful hours.
“Where’s your room?” I’m hoping it’s right next to mine. I’ll feel safer with him near.
“You mean, where’s our room?” He chuckles. “There’s only one bed here.”
Wait, what?
Okay, I’m pretty sure this is the part where I stop breathing. There’s no way I heard him right. It’s one thing to want his room to be next to mine, but it’s a whole other thing to share a bed with the man.
“I’m sorry, what?” I narrow my gaze and slant my head forward. “Can you repeat that? Because it almost sounded like we’d be sleeping together.”
When he takes in my horrified expression, he chuckles all low and deep. “In the same room. Not the same bed. I’ll take the floor.”
Relief and sadness wash over me all at once. “Can’t you sleep on the couch where, you know, I don’t have to look at you?”
Or think about getting into bed with you?
I shiver, and it’s not the chill in the air. Definitely not getting any shut-eye tonight.
Gripping my cardigan, I tighten it around myself. “It’s going to be freezing on the floor.”
I don’t want him to suffer because of me. I may hate his guts at the moment, but he’s still Raph and I still love him.
Me and my stupid heart.
“Are you worried about me, little one?” His mouth curls, and my stomach dips.
“No.” But that absolutely didn’t sound believable.
His smirk widens.
“Don’t worry about me,” he says, his expression slowly turning intense. “Where you go, I go.” He slashes the distance between us and stands before me, concern etching through his brows. “I stay where I can keep an eye on you at all times. Or did you forget you almost died?”
He eyes my shoulder, and his jaw tics.
If I wasn’t pretending I had no feelings for him, I’d throw my arms around him.
“Fine.” I incline my chin. “But I hope you don’t snore. ’Cause that’s a deal breaker.”
I spin on my heels and march toward the bedroom, and I register his laughter trailing as I do.
RAPH
“Are you decent?” I knock on the door, waiting for her to finish changing so we can both get some sleep.
“Come in.” Her tone is light, a complete turnaround from earlier.
I was kind of getting used to her being pissed off at me. She’s too damn cute when she’s all angry, probably thinking of ways to kill me.
I push the door open, expecting to see a fully clothed Nicolette, but instead…
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, my heart racing as I trace my gaze up and down her barely covered body.
If she thinks she’s going to be walking around in tight shorts that hardly cover her round, perky ass, then she’s highly mistaken. It was difficult to restrain myself while she was all covered up. There’s absolutely no way I can hold back when she’s looking like that.
“What the hell are you wearing?” I toss out with barely contained wrath.
“Clothes.” She shrugs, all innocent and doe-eyed, but I know better.
She turns sideways as she rummages in her duffle, teasing me with the view of her ass.
She nonchalantly fluffs up the pillows while my eyes zero in on her bare inner thighs, my fingers itching to feel that skin beneath them, wanting to shove those tiny shorts to the side. I bet she’s soft and wet there.
I pinch my temples, shutting my eyes, attempting to temper my thoughts.
But it’s no use. My cock grows stiff at the mere sight of her. Her breasts are more than a handful, practically spilling out of her white tank.
She peers up at me, her lips twitching. She’s doing this on purpose. She’s trying to kill me, that’s what she’s doing. And she’s doing a fine job of it.
“Those are not clothes,” I snap. “You’d better find something else to wear.”
“Pretty sure these…” She glances down at herself, then back at me with a challenge in her gaze. “…are considered clothes.”
“Not to me.” I slam her with a ruthless stare. “Change. Now.”
“Nope.” She pitches me a fiery gaze. “Plus, I don’t have much on me. This is what I slept in while I was gone.”
“Fucking hell, Nicolette.” I march up to her and her chest expands with an inhale, those nipples popping through her shirt.
It’d be so easy to yank that tank top down and taste them. It’s what she wants, isn’t it?
I grasp her chin. “If you think I’m going to sleep in the same room as you while your ass is practically begging for my palm, then you’re mistaken, little one. You’re going to cover that gorgeous body before you get both of us into trouble.”
She stares up in complete bewilderment, her breasts trembling beneath that thin scrap of material I could easily tear off with my teeth. I can make out the small, round shape of her pink areolas too, wanting to suck them into my mouth.
Fuck.
I grit my jaw. Why did I agree to keep her here? I should’ve let Michael deal with her. I can’t be around her without losing my mind.
Removing myself from her proximity, I march up to one of the drawers and yank out one of the white t-shirts already folded inside.
The cabin is one of our safe houses. But only Michael, my youngest brother, Gio, and I know of this place.
My father likes to use our other safe houses as his personal fuck pads.
When Michael found out, thanks to the security cams, he bought this place and swore us to secrecy.
He didn’t want my father polluting another place like he did the others.
The cabin comes fully stocked with clothes and shoes in various sizes, but it’s all for men. Unfortunately, there’s nothing here for her.
“Here.” I walk it back to her, extending my hand.
Her brows tighten with a vulnerable look, and I want more than anything to throw her onto that bed and bury myself so far inside her, she’ll always remember what it felt like.
Eventually, her fingers snatch up the shirt, and she glides it over her body while I stare at her the entire time, my heart twisting in my rib cage. This is hell on earth.
“Better?” She bends her face in a spiteful kind of smile.
“No…” My sinful gaze paints a path up her body until I land on her mesmerizingly green eyes. “Now, get under those covers. It’s cold, and you need rest.”
“Is this how it’s going to be?” Anger tangles in the wave of her words. “You telling me what to do and expecting me to listen like a puppy?”
I chuckle. “That’s right. Except you’re not a dog. Now stop being stubborn and get into the damn bed.”
She huffs, but does what I said.
I wander toward the fireplace and open the door, throwing more logs into it. The crackling echoes through the room while I shut the door.
I’ll definitely need to cut more tomorrow. It’s always colder here in the woods, and having her with me means I have to keep the place warm. I want her to be comfortable while she’s under my care.
She glances at me as I walk over to the closet. “Are you really going to sleep on the floor?”
“You think I’d leave you alone so you can run off on me?”
“I’m not running, Raphael.” Her gaze is soft and broken and utterly beautiful. “You were the one who did the running.”
I pull in a shallow breath, unable to tear my eyes away, wanting to confess every pure and dirty thought I’ve ever had about my sister-in-law. But once I remember who she is, how old she is… I despise myself all over again.
You’re not your father.
Aren’t I, though?
“Don’t, Nicolette. Let’s not talk about this. It’s better that way.” I open the closet door and grab a sleeping bag, taking out a pillow and blanket too.
This time, I avoid her as I settle on the floor and throw the pillow down, sinking my head onto it. Thankfully, I no longer see the ache drenching her eyes, nor the brief glimpses of pain on her features.
“Better for who?” she breathes and my heart pounds.
Why does it feel like I’m letting go of something that’s already mine?