Chapter 27
Sloane
The sweeping view from the rooftop of the Rosetti mansion knocks the breath right out of me.
Though the estate seems so far below, I can hear the faint rustle of the darkening trees in the chill wind like an uneasy whisper.
The sun dips beneath the horizon, painting the vast gardens with a warm orange glow, and the city beyond lights up in little twinkling flashes.
It’s beautiful and lonely all at once. I shiver and lean hard against the railing, which feels cold and unwelcoming under my fingertips.
The wind bites, sharp and relentless, and I realize I should have worn a coat. Maybe I prefer the discomfort.
I wrap my arms around myself as if to hold everything inside. It feels like the one thing I can do here.
Rafe steps up beside me but doesn’t say a word. True to form, as always. I half expect him to turn around and leave me to my thoughts, but he just stands there. A silent shadow. I draw in a deep breath that hitches a little at the end.
“She died because she did the right thing,” I whisper.
He answers low.
“She died because someone else didn’t.”
We stand like that for a beat. The city lights glitter below us. I stare out, jaw tight.
“What about Ethan?” I ask, voice tight. “He’s a low-life, but he loved her. He’s still my best friend’s boyfriend, but I kind of want to kill him. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to feel.”
Rafe sounds flat.
“He knew what he was doing. That doesn’t change because he dated her.”
“I know that,” I snap. “You don’t have to make it sound so clean.”
He finally looks at me, really looks, and his voice softens.
“It’s not clean. None of this is.”
I exhale sharply and turn away. He steps closer, and his voice grows gentler.
“You loved her. And now you’re drowning in what’s left.”
“She was the good one,” I whisper.
He doesn’t argue. He just lets the silence sit until I meet his eyes, full of something I can’t name.
“I feel like every time I get close to answers, I lose more of her,” I say.
He moves even closer.
“Then stop looking for answers in people who let her die.”
I flinch. He closes the gap, hands on my arms. My voice cracks.
“She trusted him, Ethan, the Red Hooks, she trusted all the wrong people. So did I.”
He holds me firmly.
“You didn’t trust me.”
I lift my gaze to his.
“I do now,” I say.
His jaw clenches. The tension spikes, and then he’s on me. Hands in my hair, mouth crushing into mine like I’m the only solid thing left in the world.
“I tried to stay away,” he murmurs against my lips.
I pull him closer.
“Don’t.”
He walks me backward until my back presses against the cold stone wall. The wind tangles my hair. His hands slip beneath my shirt to my waist.
His voice is gritted.
“You don’t get to look at me like I’m anything close to safe.”
“You are,” I murmur, breathless. “When I’m with you, I don’t feel lost anymore.”
He growls low in his throat, lips dragging along my neck.
“Say it again.”
I whisper against his skin.
“You’re the only place I feel found.”
His control breaks. He presses me against the rooftop wall. My fingers fumble at his shirt. His lips bruise mine, his hands possessive.
Voice wrecked, he whispers, “I’m going to ruin you for anyone else.”
I smile faintly, breathless.
“Too late.”
He chuckles then, a low rumble against my mouth. I feel it skittering down my spine. His fingers trace fire along my sides as they slide up to cradle my face, pulling me in for another deep, languid kiss.
"Rafe," I whisper against his lips.
One hand slides down to rest on my lower back, holding me flush against him. A shudder wracks through me at the feel of his strong body against mine. Suddenly the slabs of cold stone pressing into my back don't seem so icy anymore.
His voice is a harsh whisper, muffled against my neck.
"Whoever you need me to kill, princess, I’ll do it."
I pull back to look at him then, really look at him. His eyes are hard and intense under the dim glow of the city lights far below us. But there's a softness there too, a gentleness underneath that gruff exterior.
And with that, he covers my mouth with his again, our bodies arching towards each other. His touch is a lifeline, a balm to my shattered soul.
We break apart only when our lungs demand it, our breath mingling in the cold night air. The twinkling city lights swirl before my eyes.
His arms tighten around me, anchoring me to reality.
"Remember," he says, his voice a hoarse whisper against my ear. "Whatever happens... I got you."
Tears prick at my eyes, but I force them back.
This isn't the time for tears. Running my fingers over his stubbled jawline, I press myself closer, cocooned in the heat of Rafe's body against the cold wind cutting into us from all sides.
I find comfort in the rhythm of his breath against my cheek, steady as the beat of a war drum.
In this moment, it feels as if we stand on the precipice of a cataclysmic event. There's a sense of finality in the air, a line drawn between our past hurts and future battles. The world below us, our city, seems at once distant and intimately close.
"I know," I reply with a quiet certainty, nestling into the crook of his neck.
My heart pounds against his chest in Morse Code, spelling out words I don't have the courage to say.
I slide my hands down his chest, feeling the solid muscles under his shirt. He watches me, a silent question in his eyes, but doesn't move to stop me. My heart pounds with excited nerves as I kneel before him on the cold rooftop.
"Look at me," he commands softly.
His voice is rough with desire, but there's tenderness too that sends a jolt through me. Even now, like this, his priority is not to take but to give, to ensure that I'm okay.
“What are you doing?” he demands.
I look up at him, my voice like smoke.
"You tell me."
His jaw is tight as he says, "Sloane."
I remain soft, sure.
"I’m going to start with my mouth."
With deliberate slowness, I undo his belt, making sure not to break eye contact. The wind rustles my hair as I carefully unzip him, my breath hitching when I feel the hardness pressing against his jeans.
I whisper, "I’m going to kiss the tip first. Just enough to make you twitch."
His breath hitches when I pull down his boxer briefs and free him, his cock standing thick and hard in the chill air.
As I brush my lips against him, featherlight and without pressure, he exhales like he's been punched.
"Then I’m going to lick you. Slow. Flat tongue. From base to tip," I say, dragging my tongue slowly along the underside of him.
Rafe growls, low and violent, warning.
"You’re playing a dangerous game."
Smiling up at him, I reply,
"I haven’t even started."
My fingers wrap around him now, stroking once, firm and measured.
"Then I’m going to take just the head in. Suck it. Just enough to make you feel every inch I’m not giving you yet," I tell him, swirling my tongue around him.
His hand fists in my hair, and he strains out,
"Fuck, Sloane—"
I pull off just long enough to speak, lips slick.
"Then I’ll go deeper. Inch by inch. Until I can feel you in my throat."
Taking him deeper now, slow but unrelenting, he hits the back of my throat. My eyes flutter, and he swears under his breath, low and filthy.
"Look at me," he demands, voice ragged.
I do, mouth full and eyes glassy. He looks wrecked, like a man unraveling at the seams. Pulling off just enough to speak, I say:
"Then I’m going to let you fuck my mouth. However you want. Until you forget everything but me."
He snarls something in Italian, his hand tightening in my hair, not to force, just to ground himself.
I take him in again, deeper, faster now, each stroke slicker than the last. The wind picks up, the city glows, and Rafaele Rosetti, who’s always in control, is finally, gloriously, not.
His heavy groans echo in the night air, mixing with the howl of the wind.
I reach one hand down to cup his balls, the other is on his shaft, deliberate, working in unison with the rhythm of my mouth.
Each movement shatters his restraint.
I feel the tension building inside him, coiling tighter and tighter, a storm ready to break.
His fingers flex against my scalp as I consume him again and again, deeper with every stroke.
My name is a mantra on his lips, rough and raw.
"Sloane," he chokes out, voice splintered and desperate.
His legs tremble with the effort to stay standing, muscles quivering under my relentless pace.
All at once, he pulls back, a wild look in his eyes.
"Princess," he breathes, strangled and pleading.
I know what he’s asking me, know what he’s trying to do.
I don’t let him.
I take him even deeper, relentless, relaxing my jaw so he can fuck my mouth, feeling him thicken one last time.
He doesn’t ask again. He hauls me up by the waist and crashes his mouth onto mine. He tastes like fire. He spins us, walking backward until my spine meets the cold stone wall edging the rooftop. My skirt bunches around my hips before I can even gasp.
“Tell me to stop,” he growls against my neck.
“No,” I moan.
“Tell me it’s mine.”
“It’s all yours.”
My panties are pushed aside, no time, no space, just need. He fists his cock, lines up with my slick heat, and drives in. All at once. Deep. Brutal. Perfect.
I cry out, not in pain, in relief. I’ve been waiting for this, my body knew before my mind had a chance to catch up.
“Fuck. You feel like sin,” he rasps, buried deep inside me.
He doesn’t move for a moment. We just stay there, chest to chest, the city roaring beneath us while we’re still. Then he pulls back and thrusts again, hard. I gasp. He grins, dangerous.
“Say it again.”
“I’m yours.”
He slams into me.
“Louder.”
I wrap my legs around him.
“I’m yours, Rafe. I’ve always been yours.”
He fucks me, claiming every broken part of me and stitching it back together with each stroke. I clutch his shoulders, his black shirt wrinkling under my fists. He tightens his hand in my hair. I bite his shoulder. He groans, because goddamn, I’m everything holding him together.
“Don’t stop,” I beg, desperate.
He goes feral.
We crash together over and over until there’s nothing but slick heat, snarled breath, and the skyline burning around us. My orgasm hits fast and hard, clenching around him like I’m determined to keep him inside me forever.
“That’s it, baby. Let me feel you,” he growls, raw.
And then he’s right there with me, hips jerking, voice breaking, as he empties inside me with a low roar that rattles my bones.
We’re shaking. Both of us. The wind kisses our skin. The city pulses below. And for once in this goddamn brutal world… we don’t feel alone.