Chapter Twenty-Two
R afe scoops me into his arms and wrenches open the door. We find ourselves on a quiet level. He strides to the elevator and pushes the button, all without dropping me.
“I can probably walk now,” I say.
His arms tighten around me. “Nope. You’re mine tonight, Malik.”
This feels a bit like my fantasy of Rafe the Villain carrying me to his underground lair.
When the door to the elevator slides open, he rests my butt on the handrail, punches the number to our floor, and is kissing me before the doors have time to slide closed. My legs wrap around his waist, and we kiss until we have no choice but to come up for air.
When we reach our suite, he kicks the door closed and carries me to the bedroom before standing me against the wall.
“Arms over your head,” he demands. He crowds against me, one hand pinning my wrists, his mouth dragging down the skin of my throat as his other hand covers my stomach. “Spread your legs.”
I consider protesting simply out of habit but decide I like this side of Rafe. I do as he asks, but for good measure, I add, “You’re so bossy.”
His low rumble shudders through me as his eyes meet mine. “You’re loving it. Admit it.”
Why is he right? If this were regular life or the office, I’d never let him order me around, but like this, with that fire in his gaze, it’s making my stomach flutter. His mouth captures mine as his hand slides into the folds of my skirt, his fingertips brushing the crease of my thigh.
“Rafe,” I say as he nips the skin on my shoulder. “Can you promise this stays between us? We’re just dealing with this weird tension. We’re friends .” I emphasize the last word like an exclamation point. I need this to be meaningless. I can’t let myself feel something real, only to be betrayed again.
He pulls up to look at me, amusement dancing in his gaze. “Sure, Tris. If that’s what you want.”
Something in his expression and his tone makes it sound like he’s humoring me, but I let it go for the moment because he’s doing things that make me forget the answer to two plus two.
With agonizing slowness, he runs a finger along the edge of my underwear and between my legs. I gasp, my back arching against him. He pushes aside the fabric, fingers sliding along my wetness as he makes a low sound of approval. He circles my clit with his finger, applying an exquisite amount of pressure.
I moan, and he releases my wrists before wrapping his hand around the side of my neck, his thumb tracing up the curve of my throat.
“I want to hear those noises you promised,” he whispers against my mouth, recalling my pithy comment during the storm. He kisses me as his fingers slip between my legs and along my seam again before one slides inside me. I gasp, my hips tilting as he slowly pumps out and then in.
“Yes, just like that. How loud can I make you scream, Tris?”
He thrusts into me, adding a second finger as he fills the needy, wet ache swelling in my core. His thumb circles my clit as he pumps a few more times. I can already feel myself spiraling, my thighs clenching, and my stomach fluttering.
He removes his hand and slowly drops to a knee, planting kisses down the center of my chest and my stomach and then against the fabric just below my navel. He looks up with that signature predatory Rafe gleam as his big, warm hands slide up my bare thighs.
He’s the villain about to ravish the princess, and I am here for all the ravishing. Reaching down, he circles my ankle and lifts my foot, placing it on his knee. Then he drags a finger down the inside of my leg until he reaches my shoe. I shiver at his touch, my hands clutching the wall for balance. Carefully, he undoes the strap, removes my shoe, guides my foot back to the floor, and then repeats the process with the other side.
Rafe is on his knee, taking off my shoes. I’m having trouble processing this. I ignore the voice reminding me to be careful. That I have rules about getting involved with anyone at the office. But I push it down and shove it away because I want this. I don’t want to be scared anymore.
He places my shoes next to him, and then his hands are on me again. Slowly, with his eyes pinned to mine, his palms graze over my hips before his fingers hook into the waistband of my thong. He pauses, tipping his head in question. I nod because I don’t think I can speak. My heart is wedged firmly in my throat.
He slides the fabric down, his fingertips dragging along my skin and his thumbs lightly brushing between my thighs. I tremble like the string of a plucked guitar as he lifts one foot and then the other before tossing my thong away.
When he hooks my knee over his shoulder, I bury one hand in the thick waves of his hair, the other flattening to the wall at my back. It feels like I’m falling and floating all at the same time. My hips tilt in supplication as his tongue makes its way to my center. I moan and gasp. He tastes and nips and sucks, and it’s been so long, and holy shit Rafe is fantastic at this.
“Fuck,” he murmurs into my skin. “You taste as good as I imagined.”
He returns his two fingers, slipping inside me as his tongue works in rough circles. He takes his time, teasing apart the shreds of my composure.
He groans in appreciation, feasting and savoring in a way no man has ever done before. His enthusiasm borders on feral, and this is more decadent than a seven-tiered cake layered with French buttercream.
His fingers curl, finding the spot where tension spirals into ever-tightening ripples. I can’t last much longer. His mouth closes over my clit, and he sucks . I twist up and up and up, and then I explode, granting him his wish when I scream. He finishes his exploration with his tongue as if he can’t get enough. Eventually, he pulls away, placing soft kisses on the inside of my thigh. Then he stands, crawling up my body like a panther before he presses his mouth to mine.
“How did that compare to your little toy?” he asks with a sly smile, and I bark out a laugh.
“You’re obsessed with that thing.”
He props an elbow on the wall and gently runs a finger along the ridge of my collarbone. “When you all but confessed that morning, I almost came right there,” he says. “I wanted it to be me.”
I wanted it to be him, too.
“You win,” I answer. “An eleven out of ten.”
He grins before kissing me again, and I start pawing at his clothes.
Buttons. Why are there so many buttons? His vest and his tie and his shirt fall to the ground, and I run my hands down his chest and his abs. He holds still as he allows me to explore his body, savoring the dips and edges and planes. The caps of his shoulders, the swell of his biceps, and the solid muscle of those perfect forearms.
This is my holy grail. My summit to Everest. As I run my hands along them, he lets out a breathless laugh at my obvious reverence.
“What’s with you and my arms?” he asks. I grin up at him.
“I’ve got a thing for them.”
He flexes, and the stretch in his tendons has me swooning. I could get used to this.
He leans down to kiss me while I undo his belt and then his pants. My nails scrape along the plane of his stomach, tracing the ridges along his hips. He moans into my mouth as I delve past the waist of his boxer briefs to find his cock. His hips jerk as I stroke him with a firm grip. He’s warm and hard and impressively solid .
His fingers slide under the straps of my dress. “I need you out of this immediately.”
He wastes no time, peeling the fabric off and pushing the red silk over my hips. I watch it flutter to the floor like a pile of rose petals.
His arms form a cage on either side of my head, and he drags his gaze over every inch of me, his eyes pooling into dusk. “You are so beautiful,” he says, his voice thick and low. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this.”
His hips press into mine, his erection grinding into my stomach. I shove his pants over his hips, dragging down his boxer briefs. When he’s naked, he presses up against me, and the lush heat of skin on skin tears away every last fragment of my feeble defenses.
His large hands cup my ass before he lifts me up, my legs circling his waist. All those hours at the gym find their use as he effortlessly carries me to the bed, where he lays me down and stretches out over me. It feels like the world is moving in slow motion but also rushing past me at the speed of light.
“Rafe, we’re naked,” I say because I need to call attention to it. Because when I opened the door to discover we were sharing the Orchid Honeymoon Suite, I never imagined this was where I’d find myself.
He laughs, and I’m not sure I’ve ever appreciated just how great his laugh is. It lacks any thread of self-consciousness, loudly proclaiming for the world that he’s here and he’s amused. I want to hear it again. Suddenly, I lament all the years I wasted not hearing that laugh.
“We are. Is that a problem?” I get a new smile. One that’s hazy and a little drunk. I love this one.
“No, but what will Belinda write in the company newsletter?”
I’m rewarded with another unabashed laugh, and then he’s kissing me. His body crushes mine, hot and heavy, and for tonight, it’s mine .
I ignore the voice in my head, reminding me to be on my guard.
My hands tangle in his hair as I pull him closer. Our tongues slide, and his cock thrusts against the needy ache begging to be filled.
“Do you have a condom?” I ask.
His expression falls, and he makes a sound of frustration. “Fuck. No, I don’t.”
I arch an eyebrow. “You came to a Hawaiian resort for three weeks without supplies?”
His response is a rueful smile. “I have no idea what I was thinking.”
“Well, it’s a good thing someone is prepared.” I wriggle out from under him and run to the bathroom, digging through my toiletries bag. When I return, Rafe is perched on the bed on his knees, looking like an erotic Disney prince awaiting his queen. This I could get used to, too.
As I reach the bed, he snags my wrist and spins me around so I land under him again.
“Who were you planning to have sex with?” he asks, ripping open the box.
“I don’t know, but it sure as hell wasn’t you,” I deadpan.
“Then, call me the luckiest bastard in the universe.”
His words are possibly meant in jest, but I sense something significant buried within them.
He tears open the package, and I watch as he rolls the condom over his erection.
Then Rafe collapses on top of me, his mouth capturing mine in a soul-stirring kiss I feel straight to my marrow. His skin is velvet as I run my hands over his back and his shoulders and down his chest. He whispers in my ear, telling me I’m beautiful, and I am so lost in this.
Finally, I feel his hard cock sliding between my legs and slowly easing into me. Bit by bit, he inches in with small pumps, stretching me, filling me. When I’m not sure I can take it a moment longer, he thrusts to the hilt. Our breath shatters into jagged pieces as he waits for me to adjust, studying me with a gaze that feels like the bottomless depths of a midnight canyon.
“Tris,” he says softly as he pulls out and thrusts into me slowly, over and over, my fingers gripping his shoulders, digging into muscle and skin. His hand slides under my back, tilting my hips as he drives into me faster. I watch the tendons in his neck, the flush on his face, the wild light in his eyes. I pull his mouth to mine as we move together in waves of skin and heat, and no one, no one , has ever made me feel quite like this.
His hand hooks behind my knee, lifting it as he gently sinks his teeth into my calf. My back arches off the bed as he angles into me, driving deeper and harder and faster.
“Rafe,” I gasp.
“Look at me,” he rasps. “I want you to look at me.”
I meet his gaze, and something crucial traverses our once-uncrossable divide.
We dissolve in a fog of lust and desire, underlined by the barbs and cuts we’ve delivered over the years. Verbal punches and kicks and jabs that were about something entirely different from what either of us understood. They’ve smoothed away, leaving softer curves and edges.
I feel like I’m frothing over rapids as I paddle madly to shore, trying to find my breath, trying to find solid ground that isn’t there. I crash, my body bowing up to meet his, my cries filling the air. Rafe loses control, his movements stilted and frantic as he thrusts again and again and then shudders out an exultant moan as his orgasm rocks over every inch of skin.
We stare at each other, our lungs expelled of breath. Both entangled in an emotion I’m not sure either of us knows how to name.
“Wow,” I finally say because it’s the only way to adequately encompass all the layers I need to dig through.
“That was incredible,” Rafe says, his voice deep and rough like bricks dragged over concrete. He clears his throat, but there’s no clearing the hunger in his eyes. They’re a night sky glittering with a million points of light.
We both smile, and I’m struck with the sense that, again, this smile is only for me. The thought is both thrilling and terrifying.
“I want to do that again,” Rafe says. “All of it. I want to taste your mouth and eat you out and fuck you until the sun comes up, Tris.”
I slide my hands into his hair and pull his face to mine.
“I think that can be arranged.”