9. Rafi
9
RAFI
T he restroom door slams shut behind us, the sound swallowed by the heavy silence of the small room. My hand instinctively finds the lock, snapping it into place with a solid click. Before Tayana has a chance to step away, I press her against the door, caging her between my arms. The heat radiating off her pulls me in like a moth to a flame.
I may come back here night after night, fishing for information, but I’m not blind to her charm. Tayana Kamarov looks smoking hot tonight, and I’m not immune to the heat that surges between us, sending electric sparks through every last one of my impulses.
Her chest rises and falls quickly, her breath catching as I lean in. The scent of her—something floral, subtle, and intoxicating—clouds my judgment. I should keep my head straight, but my self-control shatters the moment her body shifts against mine, her soft curves molding perfectly to my frame.
“Tayana Kamarov,” I murmur, my voice heavy with need. “You’re the stuff of wet dreams.”
Her lips part, and the softest moan escapes, barely audible, but it hits me like a freight train. She squirms slightly, her hands pressing lightly against my chest as if she’s debating whether to push me away or pull me closer. Her eyes, though—those stormy, defiant gray eyes—tell me everything I need to know. She’s just as turned on as I am.
The hem of her dress rides up as she shifts, exposing more of her thighs. I draw back slightly, my eyes drinking her in, licking my upper lip as though savoring the sight of her trembling under my gaze. Every nerve in my body screams to take her, but I force myself to go slow. To savor. To enjoy. I want to take my time with her.
Her breathing hitches when I lower my hand, brushing my fingers over her thigh. Her muscles tense under my touch, but she doesn’t stop me. Instead, her eyes lock on mine, challenging me, daring me to go further.
My hand inches upward, slipping beneath the fabric of her dress, until my fingers skim the delicate lace of her underwear. My palm cups her heat, and I pause, gauging her reaction. Her lips part again, her head falling back against the door, and I swear I’ve never seen anything sexier.
Her undies are soaked, her arousal undeniable. I press my fingers against her, just enough to tease, and her hips buck involuntarily. The sound she makes—a soft whimper, caught between frustration and need—nearly undoes me.
“Still want to play hard to get?” I murmur, my voice barely more than a growl.
She doesn’t reply, but her body speaks for her, arching into my touch, her nails biting into my arms as she clings to me. My fingers slip past the lace, sliding along her slick folds, and her reaction is immediate—her thighs quivering, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
I watch her face the whole time, mesmerized by the way her expression shifts—defiance melting into surrender, control giving way to raw desire. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and it’s all for me.
“Tell me, Tayana. Do you want me as much as I want you?” My lips brush the shell of her ear.
Her eyes snap open, locking onto mine. For a moment, she hesitates, as though weighing whether to give me the satisfaction. Then, her lips curl into a smirk, her voice dripping with challenge.
“You think you can handle me?”
It’s all the permission I need. My lips crash onto hers, the kiss searing and hungry, a battle for dominance that neither of us is willing to lose. Her hands tangle in my hair, pulling me closer, and I press her harder against the door, grinding against her as her legs wrap around my waist. It’s just Tayana and me—no secrets, no pretense, only the heat of our collision. Her mouth is soft yet fierce, meeting my hunger with her own, our tongues tangling in a rhythm that’s as primal as it is electric.
Her nails scrape down the back of my neck, igniting a sharp sting that shoots straight to my core. I groan into her mouth, pressing her harder against the door, my hands sliding down her sides to grip her hips. Her dress is a thin barrier, teasing me with every curve beneath the fabric.
She arches against me, her body rolling in a way that drives me insane. My hands grip the backs of her thighs, and she gasps, the sound like a spark to a flame.
“You’re playing with fire,” I murmur against her lips, my voice hoarse with need.
Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t back down. Her hands tug at the buttons of my shirt, popping them open with a kind of desperation that tells me she’s just as far gone as I am.
“Good thing I can stand the heat,”she whispers, her voice low and teasing.
I growl softly, gripping the hem of her dress and yanking it over her head in one fluid motion. The sight of her steals what little control I have left—lace barely covering her curves, her skin flushed with desire, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths.
“Fuck,” I mutter, my eyes devouring her.
She smirks, but her bravado falters slightly when I close the distance, my lips grazing her collarbone, my tongue tracing a line down to the swell of her breasts. Her body jerks beneath me, a gasp escaping her lips as I peel the lace away, exposing her fully.
Her hands find my hair, tugging as I take her nipple into my mouth, teasing it with my tongue before grazing it with my teeth. Her moan is raw and guttural, her hips grinding against me in search of relief.
I pull back, meeting her gaze as I slide my hand between her legs. Her arousal coats my fingers as I tease her, slipping one finger inside before pulling it out just to hear her whimper.
“You’re mine tonight,’’ I rasp.
Her smirk returns, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes, quickly masked. “Prove it,” she challenges.
“Tell me,” I demand, my voice low and rough. “Tell me how much you want this.”
Her eyes blaze with defiance, but her body betrays her, her hips rocking against my hand. “You’re so full of yourself,” she breathes, her voice unsteady.
I chuckle darkly, adding another finger, curling them inside her until I hit the spot that makes her cry out. “And you’re full of shit if you think you don’t want this just as bad,” I counter, my thumb circling her clit as her body shudders beneath me.
Her hands claw at my shoulders, and her head falls back, her lips parting in a silent plea. I pull my fingers away, ignoring her protest, and lift her effortlessly into my arms, carrying her to the vanity.
When I lay her ass on it, she’s a vision of chaos—her hair splayed across her shoulders, her lips swollen, her skin flushed and glistening. She watches me with hooded eyes as I drop my pants, her gaze flickering down my body before snapping back to my face.
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, and the sight almost undoes me. “You talk a lot for someone who’s about to lose control,”she taunts, her voice shaking just enough to betray her own loss of control.
She reaches into her purse and retrieves a condom, and I roll it onto my length as I step forward, glad for her forward thinking. But the fact that she’s that prepared has me clenching my teeth in irritation as I wonder if she makes it a habit to walk around with protection in her bag.
I move into her, hovering over her, my knee nudging her legs apart. “We’ll see who unravels,” I murmur before sliding into her in one slow, deliberate stroke.
Her gasp is sharp, her nails digging into my back as she arches against me. The heat of her surrounds me, pulling me deeper, and for a moment, I have to pause, my forehead resting against hers as I catch my breath.
“Fuck,”I rasp, my voice strained as I hold steady. She fits me just the way she’s meant to. “Fuck!”
“Don’t stop,” she interrupts, her hips rolling beneath me, demanding more.
I obey, pulling back before thrusting into her again, harder this time. Her body meets mine with equal intensity, her moans filling the room, each sound driving me closer to the edge.
We ignore the knocks on the door and everything else outside this little room; it’s only me and her in this moment.
Our movements are frantic, messy, a collision of need and desperation. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper, and I bury my face in her neck, biting down gently as her nails rake down my spine.
Every thrust pulls her closer to the brink, her cries growing louder, her body trembling beneath me. Her hands clutch at me, holding on as though I’m the only thing keeping her grounded, and it’s beautiful to watch her face as she unravels.
When she finally shatters, her orgasm rippling through her in waves, she calls my name, her voice raw and unguarded. The sound pushes me over the edge, and I follow her, my release crashing through me as I bury myself in her, holding her as though letting go will destroy us both.
For a long moment, we stay like that, tangled together, our breathing uneven, our bodies slick with sweat. When I finally pull back to look at her, she meets my gaze, her eyes soft but guarded, as though she’s already rebuilding her walls.
I reach up, brushing a strand of hair from her face, my thumb lingering on her cheek. There are no words to capture what just happened between us. It’s unexpected, undeniable, and something I wouldn’t undo even if I could.
And just like that, I know this isn’t the end. For us, this is only the beginning.