Chapter 18
Rafaele
Kissing her is a fucking revelation. I didn't expect the softness. The sweetness. I didn't expect to want more. The feel of Sloane lingers on my lips, more dangerous than anything I've ever tasted. I should pull away. But I sink deeper, drowning in her, knowing it's the last place I should be.
She's still on the couch, and I'm kneeling before her.
Her body melts against mine. I drink in her scent, her heat.
Nothing I've ever done prepares me for the way she makes my head spin.
It's electric, explosive. Better than sex.
Better than anything I've felt in years, maybe ever.
And here I am, an addict needing another fix, already too hooked for my own good.
I am no fucking good for her. She doesn't know what she's getting into.
She thinks killing a dog is the worst crime a person can commit, for Christ's sake.
If she ever finds out the truth about me, about the bodies I've buried—hell, I'll be the one bleeding out in the gutter.
The smart move is to end it before it begins.
But smart isn't how I feel. Dumb is how I feel.
Reckless and selfish. Desperate to make her mine.
Alisa's face flashes in my mind, sudden and uninvited.
The last woman who thought she could handle me.
The one who looked at me with the same bright eyes until she saw what I really am.
The disgust on her face that night still haunts me.
The night she watched me put a man in the hospital for disrespecting my sister.
I still remember her backing away, those wide eyes narrowing, that mouth that used to smile at me twisting in horror.
"You're a monster," she'd whispered.
And she was right.
Her taste stays with me, even when I try to focus on why this is a bad idea.
She'll see me for what I am. A killer, not a lover.
A man with too much blood on his hands. And her?
She is light and soft. Bright. I'll snuff it out.
But even thinking that, all I want is another kiss.
She burns into me. And it scares the hell out of me. The woman is lethal.
I have to get a grip. She'll never forgive the shit I've done. But fuck me if she isn't the only thing I want. I should end it. Put a stop to whatever this is before it sinks its claws into me.
But I don't. I kiss her again, rougher this time, like maybe I can crush the wanting with sheer force. It only makes me want her more. I taste her shock, her desire, all of it undercut by the curiosity that drives her, that should make me pull away and run like hell.
She isn't running.
But I need to, don't I? I try to remember that, but the feel of her, the scent of her, makes everything fucking hazy.
So, I do the hardest thing I've ever done. I pull away.
My head is swimming. My pulse hammers so loud it hurts. The second my lips leave hers, I know I did the right thing. It's the only way to keep from being sucked in by her again.
I get to my feet. Step back. Run a hand through my hair.
"This is a mistake," I say.
I see the look in her eyes. It hits me like a punch to the gut. But I need this to end. Need to let her go. And she needs to let me go, even if she doesn't realize it yet.
"We can't do this, Sloane."
Her lips part, but I don't let her get a word in.
"I can't do this," I clarify.
She stands too, so I'm not towering over her, though she's still nowhere near eye-level. Her eyes are sharp, like she's trying to dissect me right here on the spot.
"Is this because of the dog?"
"No. Don't be stupid."
"So why, then?"
I turn away, unable to meet her gaze. The truth burns in my throat, demanding to be set free. Something about her makes me want to be honest, and that scares me more than anything.
"You're grieving," I say finally, my voice lower than I intended. "You're looking for a distraction, for something to make you feel better. To make you forget. I get that. But I'm not it."
Her eyes narrow. "That's not what this is."
"Isn't it?" I turn back to face her. "You lost your friend, you're chasing answers, you're vulnerable. And I'm... convenient."
"Convenient?" She laughs, sharp and disbelieving. "You're the least convenient man I've ever met."
"You know what I mean."
"No, I really don't."
I drag a hand across my face, feeling the weight of the words I need to say.
"I've been here before, Sloane. With someone who thought she wanted what I am. Until she saw it up close."
Her silence urges me on, and for once, I don't stop myself.
"Her name was Alisa. She loved the danger, the edge. Until she didn't. Until she saw what I really am."
"And what are you, exactly?"
"A Rosetti," I say, the name heavy on my tongue. "A man who hurts people for a living. Who's good at it."
She doesn't flinch, and it makes me angrier. Makes me want to make her understand.
"She left me the night she saw me put a man in the hospital," I continue, the words spilling out now. "Just for looking at my sister wrong. One minute she thought I was exciting, the next she was calling me a monster. And she was right."
"I'm not her," Sloane says quietly.
"No, you're worse," I snap. "Because you're not even scared. You're so goddamn stubborn you can't see what's right in front of you."
"It's not what you want."
Her voice is clipped, but I hear the anger behind it.
"You don't know what I want," she says. "You don't know what I can handle."
It makes me laugh. Not because it's funny, but because I need to push her further away. Need to piss her off so much she'll walk out and leave me alone with my regrets.
"Trust me. You can't handle it."
Her jaw sets. Her eyes go a shade darker.
"Is that so?"
"Yeah. It is."
I stare at her, trying to remember why this is a good plan when it feels so wrong.
"So, what?" she says, voice tight. "You get to decide for both of us?"
"You should be thanking me." My chest burns as I say it. "You think killing a dog is the worst crime anyone can commit, for fuck's sake."
"And you think you know me?"
Her gaze is fixed on mine, unblinking, daring me to look away.
Something cracks in me. How the hell does she manage to do that? Break me open when I think I'm stone. I stay silent, knowing I should let it be the last word. Let her win this round.
"You're a coward," she says, each word cold and precise.
It stings more than I think it will. I step back again, making sure the distance is real.
"Call me what you want. It doesn't change the facts."
"The facts," she says, with a bite of sarcasm.
She crosses her arms, so calm it makes my blood boil.
"Yeah. The facts."
I want to shake her. Want to pull her close and never let go.
"We're not a good idea," I say.
"Maybe I like bad ideas."
I can't believe it. The way she just says it. Like we aren't talking about the difference between life and death. Between heaven and hell. It pisses me off, but more than that, it makes me want her even more. Damn her. Damn the way she gets under my skin.
"You don't know what you're saying."
"You know what your problem is?" she says, cocking her head to one side.
I wait, anger and lust running wild in my veins.
"You think you're doing me a favor, pushing me away. You're not."
It drives me nuts, the way she turns everything I say into something else. The way she doesn't even flinch. I am so used to people backing down, running off. Sloane stands her ground, and it is the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen.
I feel myself wavering, wanting to give in, to take what she's offering.
But Alisa's face flashes in my mind again, the way she looked at me like I was something broken, something to be afraid of.
I can't bear to see that look on Sloane's face.
I'd rather push her away now than watch her leave later, when I've let myself believe she might stay.
"Get the hell out of my face, Carter," I hiss.
"I don't need a preppy princess with a save-the-world complex sticking her nose in my business.
All you do is get yourself in trouble like a damn kitten in a house fire, and I don't need a fucking kitten.
Stay in my house until the heat is off you, but stay out of my personal space. "
Her green eyes burn with fury. "Asshole."
I sweep a mock bow. "Now you get it."
As she turns to leave, something cold and hollow settles in my chest. I tell myself it's relief, that I've done the right thing. That I've saved us both from something that would only end in disaster.
But as the door slams behind her, I know it's a lie. I'm not protecting her from me, I'm protecting myself from her. From the way she makes me feel human again. From the terrifying possibility that she might see all of me and not run away.
Just like Alisa did.