Chapter Eighteen
I agree to attend trivia night after Lan and Gabrielle promise to play offense against Andy. I haven’t quite settled on my feelings about him, but we’ve chosen a code word in case I need someone to step in. Coconut shouldn’t be too hard to work into a tropical setting.
I’m dressed in a two-piece outfit made of flowing pink silk dotted with tiny white flowers. It’s a crop top with short puffed sleeves and a sweetheart neckline paired with a high-waisted skirt that is a little on the short side of professional. It’s a lot of skin, but I’ve spent the day at the pool, and I’m glowing. I strap on a pair of wedge sandals and head to the lobby to meet Lan and Gabrielle.
As I approach, Lan whistles and waves her hand like she’s just touched a hot stove.
“Are you trying to cause a riot?” she asks. “Cause those boys are going to tear each other to pieces with their teeth when they get a load of you in that.”
I look down at myself. “Should I change?”
“No way,” Gabrielle says, linking her arm with mine. “You look amazing.”
“Rafe probably isn’t coming,” I add as we start walking.
“Did he tell you that?”
“No, but I haven’t seen him all afternoon. He must be off brooding somewhere.”
“Hmm,” Lan says with a knowing air. “He’s got that brooding thing down to an art form.”
I roll my eyes. “C’mon. My buzz is in danger of wearing off.”
We make our way through the hotel’s wide marble hallways and exit through the rear entrance to arrive at the Sand Dune.
It sits directly on the beach, where a dozen flickering torches backdrop a long bar. Sleek white couches surround low wicker tables, all connected by wooden boardwalks interspersed with small pools floating with tiny flickering candles.
As we enter, Andy waves us over to a U-shaped seating area. He’s sitting with some guys from the conference, along with some women I don’t recognize.
Thanks to WMC’s unbalanced gender ratio, they’ve clearly had to go hunting for reinforcements. Thankfully for them, at least a dozen wedding parties are also staying at the resort, so there are plenty of bridesmaids ripe for the wooing.
Andy pats the seat next to him, and there is no mistaking his assessing look as his gaze rakes me from head to toe. I resist the urge to tug down the hem of my skirt. Maybe I should have worn something less revealing.
He shouts down the line to make room for me and my friends. As I sit, I’m immediately squished against him as Gabrielle and Lan squeeze their way onto the sofa. Is it too soon to call coconut ? I talk myself down from overreacting.
“When does trivia start?” I ask, tugging back a piece of hair that blows across my face.
“Soon,” Andy replies with a smirk, leaning closer. “You look great.”
“Oh, this old thing?” I joke and then immediately look away, uncomfortable and wondering why I agreed to this. I’d honestly rather be in my room watching the water and reading my book or having a quiet dinner with my friends.
As we all make conversation, the noise swells, and the energy picks up, and it’s obvious everyone started partying a while ago. While more and more people find their way to the bar, I’m jostled from every side, and my skin itches with the uncomfortable sensation of being hemmed in. I consider a plan to politely extricate myself.
Then Rafe walks into the Sand Dune. My attention zeroes in on his presence instantly.
His dark hair tosses in the breeze, and he wears navy shorts, a blue fitted T-shirt, and a large silver watch that does things to me. Did he wear that because of what I said about his arms?
A surge of bodies nearly squeezes me off the couch, so I take the opportunity to escape.
Stumbling a few steps through the sand, I right myself.
Rafe also finds me immediately.
It’s then I understand who I wore this outfit for. His gaze meanders slowly from my face down the length of my body, traveling past my mouth and over my breasts, sliding to the hem of my skirt and my barely covered thighs, and this… I don’t mind.
Lan catches my eye, and I nod to assure her I’m okay.
“Excuse me,” I say to Andy, though I’m not sure if he can hear me, and then walk away.
I stride in the opposite direction of Rafe. I don’t know why, but I’m struck with a premonition: If I approach him, I’ll fall into a black hole from which I can never return.
Or maybe I just want to see if he’ll follow.
I wind through the sand, passing laughing crowds and flickering torches, heading towards a bar to order a drink.
A booming voice erupts over the sound system, signaling the start of trivia night. A wave of bodies coalesces towards a stage set up just beyond the bar’s perimeter. Apparently, the prizes range in significance from free trips to impressive sums of cash, and the competition is fierce.
I ask for a glass of wine, and while the bartender fills my request, I sense a warm presence behind me. The bartender deposits my drink on the bar and looks up.
“I’ll have a Big Swell IPA,” Rafe says over my head. The bartender nods and plucks a glass bottle from a basin of ice, cracking the top and handing it over. I pick up my glass and take a sip, willing myself not to look at Rafe.
There’s a lot that needs to be said but is probably better left alone. And I don’t think I’m ready for any of it.
We both turn around as the announcer explains the rules of the game to dozens of eager onlookers.
“You playing?” Rafe asks, tipping the neck of his bottle. Finally, I turn to look at him and shake my head.
“No, I think I’ll sit this one out.”
Through some form of silent agreement, we drift away from the bar, ending up on the edge of the crowd. Lan and Gabrielle have muscled their way to the front, both grinning with excitement.
I notice Andy poke his head up like a gopher, scanning the area. Worried that he’s looking for me, I shuffle behind Rafe, using him as a shield. He looks over at Andy and then down at me, his mouth stretching into a satisfied smile.
I return it with a scowl and focus on Lan and Gabrielle instead. The announcer fires off questions to each participating pair with a velocity that has my head spinning. Rafe and I stand together, watching as Lan and Gabrielle maintain a one hundred percent response rate. I clap furiously and cheer for each right answer.
“This is kind of intense,” Rafe finally comments before looking at the empty glass in my hand. “Another one?”
“Sure.” He takes it from me and turns to walk away.
Again, I notice Andy searching the crowd, and I catch the back of Rafe’s shirt, my fingers brushing a solid wall of muscle.
“Wait for me,” I say. He stops and gestures for me to walk ahead.
We order our drinks and look at each other like we’re not sure what to do next.
“Do you want to sit?” I point to several empty couches in the far corner of the bar.
He nods, and we make our way over, sinking down side by side to watch the trivia from afar. For a few minutes, Lan and Gabrielle nail every question as I sneak glances at Rafe’s profile. He’s sporting a layer of stubble, and wow, it’s sexy. My legs slide together as I think about how that would feel against my skin.
Stop. It.
But I’m not the only one staring.
His gaze is drifting down my thighs, lingering for a beat before meeting my eyes.
By the light of the torches, I make out flecks of gold and orange in his irises. They’re the color of cinnamon and nutmeg. Leather club chairs and log cabins and acorns scattered across the forest floor.
The barest smile teases his mouth, and I imagine sinking my teeth into his bottom lip. A sheen of sweat breaks out on my forehead due to a heady combination of tropical humidity, several glasses of wine, and just a hint—okay, more than a hint—of raging hormonal lust.
“Nice dress,” he says, his eyes glittering as he lowers his head to whisper into my ear. “You look good enough to eat.”
My response is a sharp inhale that straddles a wobbly line between a gasp and a moan. I’m acutely aware of his arm and leg touching mine. I can’t take my eyes off him and the snug shirt that molds to the lines of his chest and his abs. The tilt of his hips as he leans back with his legs spread just the right amount.
If a fairy godmother arrived to grant me three wishes right now, one would be x-ray vision. How? How did I go from hating Rafe Gallagher with every drop of my soul to desperately wishing we were both naked?
And then he twists the knife deeper.
His hand hovers over my knee, and every one of my senses homes into his almost touch like the neon red dot of a sniper. His gaze flicks to mine, seeking permission, and I nod.
His touch is light and gentle, yet it feels like an explosion. We both focus on his fingers as he traces circles on my skin. They drag higher, just an inch, and I feel it absolutely everywhere . It’s slow. It’s torturous. I grip the leather sofa with my hands to keep myself from falling.
Electricity sparks through my veins as my chin tips up and my knees inch apart. His pupils spread, and his eyes turn black as the bottom of my stomach drops from beneath me.
“Rafe,” I say because I’m so agonizingly turned on that I need to feel some part of him on my tongue.
“I’m sorry about this afternoon,” he replies. “Lunch with my father was a disaster, and I was in a mood.”
Right. I completely forgot that I’m supposed to be annoyed about something. I was much too relieved to see him, not only to shield me from Andy but because I wanted him here. I try not to examine the root of that thought too closely. But now, I can’t think with him touching me. I remove his hand from my leg and try to focus on what he’s saying.
Finally gathering my wits, I ask, “What was that about?”
“I shouldn’t have done that, but that guy is such a tool, Tris.”
My momentary arousal morphs and sharpens, and now I’m angry. “It’s none of your business who I talk to, Rafe. There is no plane of existence where you have any say over me.”
He runs a hand through his hair in a clear sign of distress. “I know that. My father was pressuring me about the training program and—” He stops and looks at me. “It just made me a little crazy seeing that fuckwit touching you.”
My heart does a little flip at his words. “It’s also none of your damn business who touches me.”
“Tris, that guy is a dick. He’s only after one thing. To score with one of the few women attending this thing so he can say he did it.”
My reaction is the epitome of disbelief. Did he just imply that Andy was only interested in me for bragging rights? And why does that hurt so much?
“Fuck you, Rafe. Just because I don’t look like your supermodel ex-girlfriend doesn’t mean someone else can’t find me attractive.” I leap from my seat before he can say anything else.
Tears build behind my eyes. That asshole. I can’t believe I was starting to trust him. I storm through the bar and towards the hotel, marching underneath a stone awning lined with thick marble pillars.
“Tris,” Rafe shouts after me, and I pick up my pace. I will not let him see me cry. I will not let him hurt me anymore. “Please.” He runs up and catches my wrist. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Then what did you mean, Rafe?” I whirl on him. “You thought you’d first go all possessive asshole, decide who can and can’t touch me, and then insult me to my face?”
He says nothing, just looks uncertain for a moment, so I turn and storm off again. Then he finds his voice.
“Wait,” he says, and I whirl on him one more time.
“What kills me is you came to me apologizing but then blamed it all on your father instead of taking accountability for your behavior. Just leave me alone.”
“Please,” he says, and it’s fused with so much emotion that it actually makes me stop. “I’m sorry. I keep saying everything wrong around you. What I said there, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant a guy like that will never appreciate how amazing you are. How smart and funny and bright. A guy like that only wants a notch on his bedpost. He’ll never understand you.”
The ground tilts. I sway and nearly lose my footing. Then I scoff because that’s a much better reaction.
“And you will appreciate those things?”
“Yes,” he says.
It’s only one syllable, but it’s stuffed full of so many things yet to be said.
He’s staring at me like he’s tumbling through freefall.
Every pithy response I wish I could come up with shrivels in my throat.
I’m not sure who moves first. A beat of silence drops before Rafe’s mouth crashes into mine. We kiss. We kiss like it’s our last moment on earth. Like at any second, this will be taken away.
I panic, then do the complete opposite of what I want and shove him, hands pressed flat against his chest. We tear apart and just stare at each other.
Rafe’s eyes have gone so dark, they’re deep black pits of glittering stars. That was a terrible idea. But I don’t care. He is beautiful and warm, his lips swollen, his hair mussed.
“Tris, I’m sor—” I don’t give him a chance to finish yet another apology because I am tired of sorry s, and right now, I regret nothing. I grab the fabric of his shirt and yank him down as our lips meet.
He grunts as his hands circle my waist, my back hitting cool marble. Ferocious palms and long fingers grip the backs of my thighs, and I’m lifted up, my legs trapping his waist. Our mouths part, hovering an inch away, eyes open wide as I plummet down the rabbit hole. One hand braces the side of my neck, his thumb running down the center of my throat as we sip on the forced exhales rushing in and out from our lungs.
Rafe’s hand slides down my rib cage and smooths against the curve of my ass. He squeezes as he again captures my mouth with his. A slick slide of tongues and teeth and lips is punctuated with a tilt of his hips and the arch of my back.
He’s hard enough to knock down buildings. I feel it infinitely in the soft, wet ache between my thighs. He moves, thrusting and grinding, followed by an agonized moan. My hands find his shoulders and his chest and his stomach, finally discovering their happy place in the nest of his thick hair. I grip it, tug it, pulling him to me harder. This isn’t enough.
Somehow, he understands because his tongue dives deeper until we drown. We are the burn of heat and fire and every conflicting emotion I’ve ever felt for this infuriating man.
A break on the rocks.
A star dropped from the sky.
This. Is. A. Reckoning.
Ships sink. Tornadoes spin. Volcanoes erupt.
No one has ever kissed me like this.
He breathes my name, and I say it back because this is all I am right now. He tastes like sunshine and longing, and I lap up every drop. His hands wander to the underside of my skirt, fingertips skating the dangerous edge of my underwear.
His mouth moves down my throat, burying in the curve of my neck as he nips and bites at my skin, mapping a voyage across the range of my collarbone and over the valley of my breasts. I want this to last forever. Our pulses clash, our mouths tangle, our hands are greedy.
But then Rafe swerves from my lane, pulling back and lowering me to the ground.
I feel his absence burying into my chest like a wreath of thorns.
“Fuck,” he says. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Tris, I’m sorry.”
It’s another sorry . We’re sorry again, but he’s right. This was a terrible idea.
I begin, quietly and appropriately freaking out.
“You kissed me,” I say, not sure if it’s an observation or an accusation.
Rafe’s nostrils flare, taking the latter bend in the road. “You kissed me !”
“You started it!” Though I’m not really sure if that’s true.
“You continued it,” he counters, and shit , that is totally true. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
I know why I shouldn’t have done that, but why shouldn’t he have done it? My stomach twists as bile creeps up the back of my throat.
He laces his hands at the back of his head and paces. The hem of his shirt lifts, and I catch a sliver of his Midas-touched stomach. My fingers twitch with the desire for more.
The feel of his hands and his mouth have now been tattooed onto me with ink and blood.
“Fine. That’s just fine,” I snap.
Nothing has ever been less fine.
I am such a fucking liar.
So, I’m left with no choice but to glare at him and then run away.