14. Chapter 13
Chapter 13
Rayne
Time seems to slow as he moves, his tall, broad frame commanding every inch of space in the narrow hallway. His dark hair catches the faint light overhead, the subtle curl at the top just as I remember. Tattoos snake down his forearms, the ink looks like it’s bleeding down his skin from the sleeves of his casual black shirt. And then there are his eyes—piercing hazel with gold and green flecks that lock onto me like a predator sighting its prey.
A slow, deliberate smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and it’s devastating. Dangerous.
"Knox," I whisper before I can stop myself, my voice barely audible over the thundering of my pulse.
"Rayne," he drawls, his voice low and gravelly, like smoke wrapped in velvet. He doesn’t stop walking until he’s right in front of me, close enough that I catch the clean, woodsy scent of him.
His gaze drags down the length of me, lingering on my dress. It’s modest by most standards—simple and black, with a high neckline—but the way his eyes darken as they rake over me makes me feel utterly exposed. Heat rises to my cheeks, a traitorous flush that betrays my thoughts. He knows. He knows exactly what’s under the fabric, and I hate how much that realization sends a shiver down my spine.
"What is it that guy says in the movie? Are you lost, baby girl?" he murmurs, his lips curling around the words like a promise.
My breath hitches, my lips parting as the memory of his voice calling me that—just hours ago, in the throes of pleasure—spirals through me. My knees feel weak, but I refuse to let him see just how much power he has over me.
My lips are dry, and I wet them quickly before responding—anything to break the magnetic pull between us.
"I didn’t think that movies would be your thing," I manage, cocking an eyebrow in what I hope passes as casual confidence. "But I can see why that one holds a certain appeal."
His smirk deepens, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest like it’s been dragged up from some dark, hidden place inside him. "There are several things that hold... a certain appeal to me." The weight of his words is deliberate, his tone dropping just enough to make my stomach tighten involuntarily.
I swallow hard, forcing myself not to react, but the heat creeping up the back of my neck betrays me. He doesn’t need to say it outright for me to know he’s talking about me. Still, something cold cuts through the warmth of his attention—a reminder. Knox has a boyfriend and as good as it felt to be between them, for all I know, I was just a passing moment of fun.
"Right," I mutter, trying to deflect, my voice tight against the spiraling tension. But before I can say more, there’s a faint noise behind him—the unmistakable creak of a door hinge. But I don’t look, my focus on Knox, too distracted by his presence to care.
"Did you get impatient, my love?" A velvety, teasing voice reaches me before I even register the movement. A hand, masculine yet graceful, snakes around Knox’s waist, its grip easy, familiar—as if it belongs there.
My gaze drifts toward the voice, and I’m suddenly staring into those impossibly blue eyes. Caribbean blue, framed by a darker ring. River’s grin spreads wide, wicked and full of mischief as he steps closer, his body brushing against Knox’s side.
"Well, hello, gorgeous," he says, his voice honeyed with charm yet edged with something sharper. Dangerous. "Fancy seeing you here."
The air shifts between the three of us, charged and electric. They’re both dressed casually tonight—tight jeans that cling to every inch of their powerful legs, shirts snug across their broad chests, tattoos on all the visible skin. It’s almost unfair how effortlessly captivating they are, how they command attention without even trying. My fingers twitch at my sides, the urge to touch them again, to trace the ink on their skin, burning through me like a fire I can barely contain.
River moves with deliberate ease, his body a sinuous line of confidence and intent as he steps around his boyfriend. A flicker of something wicked dances in his eyes, and that grin of his—a weapon disguised as charm—broadens as he closes the space between us.
I don’t move. I can’t. My breath hitches as his fingers lift, brushing against my collarbone, their touch featherlight yet searing. The heat from his skin radiates into mine, and though the gesture is barely invasive, it’s intimate enough to make my pulse stutter. His gaze doesn’t just meet mine—it pierces me, rooting me where I stand.
"Rayne," he murmurs, my name rolling off his tongue like a secret only we share. He steps closer, his frame eclipsing mine, and I feel the weight of his presence settle over me. His hand slides upward, curling loosely around my throat. Not tight—not threatening—but enough to send a shiver down my spine. His face dips, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as his warm breath fans across my skin.
"Are you sore, can you still feel us?" he whispers, his voice rich and low, each word a deliberate caress. The air between us thickens, charged and suffocating all at once. "Because I can still feel your pussy wrapped around our cocks. I can still taste you on my tongue." His teeth scrape lightly against my earlobe, making my knees threaten to buckle. "I desperately want to play with you again, beautiful Rayne."
The ache that had been simmering low in my belly ignites, spreading like wildfire through my veins. My body betrays me—my thighs clench, my lips part, and a shaky breath escapes before I can catch it. But beneath the haze of desire, a sliver of restraint claws its way forward. Kahlee’s waiting for me. She’s out there, sipping her wine, expecting me to return any second now.
I steel myself, forcing my voice past the lump in my throat. "I can’t," I manage, the words trembling but firm. "I’m here with a friend."
River pulls back slightly, his touch falling away, though the intensity in his gaze remains. His grin softens into something almost playful, yet no less dangerous, as if he finds my resolve amusing. With a languid step, he retreats to Knox’s side, his movements unhurried, unapologetic.
Knox’s arm snakes effortlessly around River’s waist, pulling him close until their bodies align. The other hand rises, claiming River’s throat in a way that mirrors what River had done to me moments ago. There’s a possessiveness in the gesture, an intimacy that feels both raw and deliberate, like a silent display meant for my eyes alone.
"Well," River says, his voice light but tinged with disappointment, "that’s a shame." His gaze lingers on me as if he’s savoring the sight of my flushed cheeks and the way I struggle to maintain composure.
Knox leans in toward him, his lips grazing River’s ear. Whatever he whispers is too quiet for me to hear, but the effect is immediate. River’s lashes flutter closed, his mouth parting slightly as a look of sheer bliss crosses his face. It’s mesmerizing, maddening. I want to know what Knox said, what has that look crossing River’s face—and it makes my feet itch to move toward them despite every rational thought screaming at me to stay put.
I wrench my gaze away, breaking the spell they’ve cast over me. My legs feel heavy, unwilling, but I force them to carry me back down the hallway. Each step feels like a betrayal of the fire still burning in my core, but I cling to the memory of Kahlee’s expectant smile, her laughter over glasses of wine.
By the time I reach the table, my hands tremble as I pick up my glass. I take a long sip, desperate for the cool liquid to drown the inferno raging inside me. Kahlee looks up with curiosity, but I manage a strained smile, tucking the encounter away for later—when I’m alone and far from their intoxicating presence.
Kahlee’s green eyes narrow slightly as she tilts her head, studying me like she’s trying to capture the perfect frame. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look a little flushed.” Her voice is soft but probing, a familiar warmth undercut by curiosity. She leans in closer, resting her chin on her hand, her freckled face lit by the dim amber glow of the bar.
I nod quickly, too quickly, and raise the glass again. The chilled rim presses against my lips, and I take another long, deliberate sip, letting the sweetness coat my tongue, hoping the act will buy me a moment to pull myself together. When I set the glass down, Kahlee’s gaze hasn’t wavered.
“Alright,” she says, drawing out the word, her tone teasing now. “Then spill it. What happened with them? And don’t even think about leaving out the juicy details.” She smirks, leaning forward like she’s settling in for a story she knows will be good.
But instead of the knee-jerk response I usually have—the automatic urge to share everything with her, no filter—I feel an unfamiliar weight pressing down on me. A strange, protective instinct coils in my chest, wrapping tightly around the memory of them . It’s mine. The way they moved, the way they looked at me, the way they—no.
My fingers tighten around the stem of the wine glass until the delicate glass threatens to snap. The tension surprises me, and I force myself to loosen my grip, placing the glass back on the table with a trembling hand. My pulse thrums unevenly, and I try to ignore the telltale prickle at the base of my neck. They’re here. Watching. I can feel their attention like a phantom caress sliding over my skin, intimate and invasive all at once. My breath catches, and I fight the maddening urge to turn around and search for them in the shadows of the crowded bar.
Kahlee’s voice cuts through the haze. “Rayne?” She frowns, concern flickering in her green eyes. “What’s going on with you?”
“I’m fine,” I manage, though my voice sounds thin, strained. I straighten in my seat, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “It was nothing, really. Just…a simple one night stand. I’m sure they were just ticking something off a bucket list.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Simple?” she echoes, latching onto the word. “That’s all you’re giving me? Come on, Rayne, you’ve got to give me more than that!”
I shake my head lightly, my smile growing tighter. “Honestly, Kahlee, it’s not that interesting.” The lie tastes bitter, but there’s no way I’m unraveling this tangled thread for her. Not tonight. Not with them so close, their phantom presence burning into me like a brand.
Desperate to steer the conversation away from dangerous territory, I reach for my phone on the table and tap the screen. “Anyway, how did your shoot go yesterday? You said you had some new clients?”
She hesitates for a moment, clearly unsatisfied, but something about the shift in my tone must convince her to drop it. With a shrug, she sighs and launches into a detailed account of her latest photoshoot—something about an engagement session at sunset near the lake.
I nod along, trying to focus on her words, but every nerve in my body remains taut, aware of the invisible strings tying me to the shadows where I know they’re lurking.