42. Soulmates
Chapter 42
Soulmates
Rafe
In the blink of an eye, the entire town found out about Bonnie’s and my fight on Main. Mostly about how Bonnie pretty much handed me my ass. A lot of people have changed their tune over the next day because of that. Not that I ever blamed them for being upset in the first place. I’m not sure what I would have thought about our situation either. But my girl knows me well enough to know she can throw my words back at me when I need to hear them.
Thank God.
Right when we open the shop on Wednesday, Moira stops by with a candle for Bonnie. She gives us that look I remember my mom giving me whenever I brought bad art home that had won a participation award in my middle school—gentle, adoring, and a little apologetic.
Mom was there for me for a long time. It was difficult, but she was present. Not like my dad.
So, what do I do now? What do I do when she hasn’t returned my call since Monday?
“Dropping off your favorite, Bon,” Moira says, placing down the candle on the counter.
I eye the scent. Cedar . I smile.
Bonnie has always been there, hasn’t she? Just waiting for me to notice her back. Seeing me before I ever thought to do the same. But I see Bonnie bright as day now.
Leo texts me, but I’m not ready to talk to him just yet. He has no clue how much that competition wrecked Bonnie, and I fear any conversation would end in us saying things we regret. Ultimately, I know it probably wasn’t his decision. She lost by whatever bullshit standards his agent had set, fair and square. I’m just a little bit protective of her. I don’t have to tell him that for him to understand. He knows.
But does that make me just as bad as my mom?
Cassidy informs the family group text that afternoon that he and Marina are home, so Bonnie and I walk the few blocks over to their townhouse that evening. We’re instantly greeted at the door by her niece, squealing in excitement before darting down the hall to the bedroom.
I prepped a massive helping of chicken and rice, enough to keep them fed for a few days. Both Marina and Cassidy fawn over it. When I put it in their fridge, all I see is bread, peanut butter, eggs, and snacks for Melody. I guess neither of them is big on cooking. I’ll have to cook for them as much as I’ll be cooking for Bonnie soon.
Once we get to the nursery, Cassidy hands me their newborn—a scrunchy little baby named Pearl, with eyes just like her mom’s. I expect the baby to cry, but as I bring her closer to my chest, she coos, gripping my middle finger in a tight hold—the same finger with Bonnie’s silver ring.
“I hear babies are a good judge of character,” Cassidy says with a grin.
“Eh, what do they know?” I tease.
“Hey, my daughters are geniuses.”
I steal a glance at Bonnie, in bed next to Marina, with Melody cuddled closer to both of them. Bonnie strokes fingers through Marina’s long blonde braid as they chat away. She’s a vision, even in this bedroom, grinning ear to ear with her family and smiling over at me when she gets the chance.
Izzy can say I fall too hard and too fast, but I think I’m just a simple man who knows what he wants. And once I discovered who my guardian angel was, I was ready to break through the gates of heaven to get to her.
Bonnie and I go back to my studio afterward, drawing for the night to the tune of our usual playlist. By the time she’s put away her tablet pen and I’ve washed my hands of paint, we make our way up to my bed.
It feels so domestic—normal—as Bonnie changes into one of my big T-shirts, keeping only that and her underwear on as she curls close to my chest. My hands roam over her just because they can, stroking her back, down to her hips and thighs.
We haven’t talked about what we are yet or what we’ll ever be. I don’t know if we need to. It’s an unspoken understanding. But understanding or not, Bonnie deserves to be told every day that she has me.
In my bed, with the low waves outside and the creaking of the mattress, I tuck my finger beneath her chin and tip her head up to greet mine.
“Hey,” I whisper.
A steady, wistful expression rises onto her cheeks. “Hi there, Big Bad.”
I swallow, feeling the seeds of happiness sprout like flowers in my chest.
“You have my soul, you know. It’s yours to keep.”
Bonnie smiles. “I was taking your soul whether you liked it or not, Rafe Cohen.”
“Good.”
When she gives a soft breath like an exhale of happiness, I dip my palm between her legs, shift her underwear to the side, and rub small circles over her. I don’t want to wait to hear another pleasant sigh. I want to give her more.
She raises one leg to rest on my hip, widening her legs so I can dip two fingers in. She’s tight. We haven’t had sex since that first night. I think I’ve been hesitant—scared of making a mistake. But I’m not worried about that anymore. There are no mistakes where Bonnie is concerned.
I’m tied to her. The only way I’m leaving is if she finally realizes there are better options out there—that she deserves the world instead of me. But I’d come crawling back anyway because I’m too selfish. She’s tattooed onto my soul.
I pump my fingers in, pulling them back out, repeating the motion in a rhythm that makes soft breaths tickle along my cheek. I bury my nose in the crook of her neck, nibbling at the skin, causing her to gasp and arch her back. Her hands crawl under my shirt, spreading across my chest and over my shoulders, leveraging herself closer as I dip my fingers deeper.
The faster I stroke, the more her moans escape her faded red lips. I devour them, and our tongues meet in the middle in a tangled mess. We continue pushing, pulling, and shifting under the sheets. She fumbles for my boxer briefs, tugging them down my hips and to my knees. I kick them off as she grasps my cock, stroking up and down.
With her leg still hiked onto my hip, she scoots closer. I remove my fingers from her, and hand on my cock, she positions me between her thighs.
“I’m on birth control,” she says on a heady breath.
I kiss her in acknowledgment, biting her bottom lip with a mutual groan.
I grip her shoulder, shifting up to bump the tip of my cock against her. She tenses.
“We’ll take it slow,” I say.
“I’m not worried.”
I take my time pushing in, sliding just until it feels too tight, then pulling out to try once more. Little moans escape from her lips with each thrust as she closes her eyes, as if savoring the feel of us together. Her grip on my shoulder tightens.
But when I pause to make sure she isn’t in pain, she only nods and whispers, “Keep going.”
“You’re sure?”
She laughs. “Rafe, unless I say otherwise, it’s always a yes, okay? I’ve never had boundaries with you. I won’t start now.”
I grin, kissing her on the lips and pumping in once more.
We don’t rush it. Nothing about it is needy. I don’t know what I’d call it. Maybe making love if I were a sappy guy. But it’s definitely not sex. Not this time.
Finally, I’m fully inside, with her hips meeting mine and our chests rising and falling against each other. Slowly, we start to move together. Her hand clutches the sheets above our heads, pulling and pushing to guide herself up and down my cock. I hold her hips as I do the same. It’s a steady rhythm, a well-known one, as if we’re in tune, all the way down to this.
“This is how it should have been,” I murmur into her neck. “Just like this.”
She shakes her head. “I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”
Our slow thrusts turn quicker. Her exhales get heavier. We exchange moves like we’re on a battlefield. Her nails dig into my shoulder. I nip at her neck.
She gasps. “Harder, Rafe.”
“My good girl likes it rough,” I grunt out, practically clawing my way up her back, tangling my fist in her ginger locks and tugging.
It’s desperate. Messy. Everything I hope she wanted when she told me that earlier in the summer. It’s everything I’ve wanted, but anything with Bonnie is what I want.
Eventually, she pushes against the bed to roll me onto my back and positions herself on top of me. She sits on my lap, her legs straddling either side of my hips as I rest fully inside her.
I lift an eyebrow. “You want to ride me?”
“Teach me how,” she says, her grin like a beam of sunlight.
I grip her hips and guide her up, down, and back. She’s a smart woman, taking the lead quickly, grinding over me and driving me crazy.
“Attagirl. Just like that.”
Her fingers splay across my chest as she rides me like the champion that she is, stopping at the head when I tell her that feels best. Going slower to tease me before falling back down.
“A natural,” I try to get out, but my words are strained with pleasure.
She’s rising and falling quicker. Her eyebrows cinch together again, and that little separation of her lips tells me she’s close without having to say anything at all. I reach between her thighs and circle her clit. She’s gone in less than five seconds.
My name falls from her lips, aching and moaning. And when she opens her eyes, locking her gaze with mine, that , that right there—the knowledge that she sees me, that she’s not just having sex for fun, but she’s having sex with me —that’s what sends me over.
My orgasm rips into my stomach and jerks my navel until I’m spilling into her over and over. It’s too much. It’s not enough. She holds on to me as it washes through her, gripping my side and riding until I can’t give any more.
A bead of sweat drips down my forehead. Bonnie sits on my lap, a look of triumph on her face.
I cup behind her neck and pull her down, out of breath and out of my fucking mind.
“I love you, Bonnie Davies.”
She deserves it all—the good sex, the happy ending, the sappy Prince Charming, all of it.
She grins. “I know you do.” I kiss her right as she begins to murmur, “I love you too.”
I know she does.
She bites my bottom lip, and I pull back.
“Now let’s do that one more time,” she teases, already starting to shift on top of me.
I shake my head. “You’re crazy.”
“But you love it?”
“I do.”