Chapter 15
Asoft light dances on the ceiling.
I blink, my vision blurry, my mind a slow, syrupy fog.
For a second, I have no idea where I am. The sheets beneath me are soft, the air smells of vanilla and something masculine that is all Raiden.
Then it comes rushing back in a dizzying, X-rated montage. The kidnapping. The argument. The kiss. His mouth, his hands, his body moving inside me. A hot flush creeps up my neck, a mixture of pleasure and dawning embarrassment. I slept. After all that, I just passed out in his bed.
The flicker of light comes from a cluster of thick vanilla candles burning on a bedside table. It casts the room in a warm, intimate glow, making the shadows soft and deep. I feel him move before I see him.
Raiden rises from a chair in the corner of the room. He approaches the bed, and my breath catches.
He’s shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants that hang so low on his hips I can see the sharp V of his inguinal lines disappearing beneath the waistband.
He perches on the edge of the mattress, the bed dipping under his weight. He reaches out, his calloused fingers unbelievably gentle as he brushes the hair from my forehead. Then he leans down and presses a kiss to my hair, right at my temple, inhaling deeply.
“Come here,” he says. “You won’t believe it, but I have a little surprise for you for Christmas.”
I sit up, pulling the duvet over my bare chest, suddenly shy. My body feels deliciously sore, used in the best possible way.
I grab my jeans and T-shirt from the floor where he’d tossed them. Raiden watches me pull them on, his eyes tracking every movement with a dark, heavy-lidded intensity that makes my skin prickle.
Once I’m dressed, he takes my hand and leads me out of the bedroom. The apartment—I assume it’s his off-campus place—is spacious and modern, all dark woods, but the room he leads me into is filled with warmth.
In the center of the living room, a small dining table is set for two.
More candles are lit, their flames reflecting in the polished wood.
But it’s the food that makes me stop in my tracks.
There’s a rustic dish of ratatouille, the vegetables vibrant and glistening, a large bowl of deep purple grapes, still on the vine, and a bottle of what looks like nice wine.
Raiden pulls me down, not into a chair, but directly onto his lap. I land with a soft thump against his solid chest. His arms wrap around my waist, holding me securely against him. He picks up a fork, spears a piece of perfectly roasted eggplant from the ratatouille, and lifts it to my lips.
“Eat,” he commands softly.
I obey, the flavor exploding on my tongue. He feeds me another bite, and then plucks a grape from the stem and pops it into my mouth. The sweetness is a perfect counterpoint.
I lean my head back against his shoulder, a laugh bubbling up from my chest. “Okay, you have to admit this is a little weird,” I say, a smile in my voice.
“Ratatouille and grapes. How did you know?” I twist around to look at him.
“Did you break into my dorm and read my diary? Are you stalking me, Blackwell?”
The corner of his mouth ticks up in that infuriatingly handsome half-smirk. “I hope you don’t think this is the surprise,” he says, his voice a low vibration against my back. “It’s just dinner. Needed to feed you.”
He pauses, his gaze serious. “I’ll tell you about the surprise later.”
We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, him feeding me, his body a warm, solid wall behind me.
His lips brush my temple, a feather-light touch, and for some reason, the simple, quiet moment feels more magical and significant than any grand Christmas party ever could.
But the questions, the loose ends, are still scratching at the back of my mind.
I decide to just ask. I can’t live in this bubble forever.
I clear my throat, turning slightly on his lap so I can see his face. “You really shouldn’t have done it,” I begin, deliberately keeping my voice calm and quiet, so as not to start another fight. “Taking me from the party. Trying to ruin it.”
He doesn’t get defensive. He just watches my face, his blue eyes intense. “I never intended to ruin your party, Artie.”
I count to five in my head, a little trick to keep the emotion from boiling over.
“Raiden, you knew the name of my painting. A few hours later, that painting shows up at the common room, right after the fire. You said you didn’t want me to go to the party because of the danger.
I believed you, I really did. But just a couple of hours ago, in your bedroom, you were ready to let me go.
So… has the danger magically disappeared?
” I rush the last part out, needing to make my point before I lose my nerve.
“Don’t take this as an attack, Raiden. I was just in your bed.
I don’t… I don’t see you in negative light. ”
I expect him to get tense, for his jaw to clench and that angry mask to slide into place. Instead, when I finally look up at his face, he’s wearing a soft smile that makes my heart skip a beat.
“Sweet pie,” he murmurs, tracing the line of my jaw with his thumb. “I was ready to let you go because the danger is… partially eliminated. And that’s why the party is canceled. Because Chase Addams has been arrested.”
My brain stutters to a halt. “What?”
“He organized all the sabotage,” Raiden continues, his voice even and certain. “He cut the coolant line. He set the fire this morning. He almost burned the painting, by the way. The one I left for you. I bought it and… I wanted to give it back.”
I stare at him, my mind reeling. Chase? The friendly volunteer? The guy who hit on me? It makes no sense. “But… why? And how do you know all this?”
“Marlon—the guy from the team you saw last night—has a younger brother and he is an engineering geek. He hacked the campus security footage for me. We got Chase on camera slicing the trip wire right before he set the fire. I’ve known for a while it was him.
The problem was proving it without tipping him off.
” Raiden’s jaw tightens. “I was trying to build a case, to gather more evidence, because I was afraid if you just accused him, he’d talk his way out of it.
But then he set the damn fire, and my patience ran out.
I decided getting you out of there was more important. ”
A bitter taste fills my mouth. “I was horrible to him last night,” I say quietly, remembering how I’d used him to make Raiden jealous. “Maybe he… maybe I deserved it.”
“Don’t,” Raiden says, his voice turning sharp and harsh.
“Don’t you dare talk that fucking nonsense.
You’re not to blame for anything. That asshole was obsessed.
He overheard your little coming out speech to your friends, and he was planning to cause a scene at the party tonight.
A big one. Something to ‘save you’ from the scary hockey jock and make himself look like the hero.
” His eyes blaze. “He knew. He knew I liked you, and he was trying to sabotage us from the start.”
I process the information, the sheer manipulative crazy of it all. It’s a lot to take in. My mind circles back to the one detail that still feels out of place. “The painting,” I say timidly. “Why did you buy my painting?”
He looks away for a second, a flicker of something almost shy crossing his features.
He touches my face again, his thumb stroking my cheek.
“I just… I didn’t know how to make you happy,” he admits, his voice rough with emotion.
“I actually saw it in the gallery window when I was walking by, can you believe it? I really didn’t know at first that it is your painting.
It looked so… sad. And beautiful. Like you.
And I heard you needed the money for tuition.
I just wanted you to have it back. So you wouldn’t have to sell your art if you didn’t want to. ”
The raw, clumsy sincerity of his words hits me right in the chest. “You should have just given it to me,” I whisper.
He raises an eyebrow, a hint of the old, sarcastic Raiden returning. “Oh, right. So you could have thrown it in my face and accused me of trying to buy you?”
I bite my lip to keep from laughing, then fail completely. A small chuckle escapes me. “Okay, fair point.” I look down at my hands, feeling a wave of shame for how I treated him, for how I stormed out of that utility closet. “I’m sorry, Raiden. For… for yesterday.”
“Stop,” he says gruffly. “Don’t apologize.
” He pulls me closer, his arms a steel band around me.
“I know I ruined your Christmas. But I’m going to make it up to you, at least a little.
I already talked to your friends. I’ve arranged for a mini-party tomorrow at the rink.
Just us, them, and anyone else who’s still around.
We’ll have the whole place to ourselves.
” He leans in, his lips brushing my ear.
“And then we’re going on a little trip, just you and me.
If you agree.” He pauses, and his hand slides down to my thigh, squeezing gently.
“I’ll teach you how to skate properly. And how to bend your knees, sweet pie,” he whispers, the last words a hot promise that sends a shiver straight through me.
I close my eyes, overwhelmed. I shake my head against his shoulder.
“I reacted too emotionally,” I whisper back, my own voice thick.
“But you didn’t ruin my Christmas. Right now…
Christmas feels pretty wonderful.” A newfound boldness courses through me.
I turn my head, my lips finding the strong column of his throat. “Let’s go back to bed.”
Back in the bedroom, with the candles still flickering, I don’t wait for him to take the lead. I push him down onto the mattress and straddle his hips, rubbing against him through our clothes. His eyes darken, his hands coming up to grip my waist.
“What are you doing, Artie?” he asks, his voice strained.
“I want you again,” I whisper, leaning down to kiss the sensitive skin of his neck, right over his pulse. I feel his heart rate kick up. “I want you inside me again.”
“Don’t tease me,” he warns, his voice a low growl.
“I’m not teasing.” I pull back to look him in the eye, my hands flat on his chest. “Stop treating me like a Victorian virgin. I know what I want.”
A humorless snort escapes him. In one powerful, fluid motion, he flips us over. I’m on my back, pinned beneath him, his heavy body a delicious weight. He rips my jeans off with an impatient growl.
“Fine,” he wheezes into my ear, his voice rough with arousal. “But once I’m inside you this time, I’m not leaving. You’re going to be fucking filled up for a long time.”
A desperate, needy moan escapes me. “Okay,” I pant, because his fingers are already slicking me open, stretching me with an agonizing slowness.
When he pushes inside me, he fills me completely, a thick, hot pressure deep inside that feels like coming home.
He moves with a wild rhythm, whispering filthy, possessive promises into my ear.
He tells me how he’s going to fill me to the brim, how I’ll always drip his cum from now on, how I belong to him.
And with every deep, powerful thrust, I believe him more.
The next time I wake, pale morning light is filtering through the blinds. And he’s still inside me. We must have fallen asleep like that, tangled together, his body still joined with mine. A giddy, joyful laugh escapes me.
I try to wiggle free, needing the bathroom, but his arm tightens around my waist, pulling me back against him. He’s already hard again.
“Don’t even think about it,” he groans into my hair.
I laugh again. “I have to pee, you lunatic.” He still doesn’t let me go, so I squirm until he finally relents with a predatory bite to my shoulder. He finally pulls out with a wet sound that has me blushing, and I scramble out of bed.
When I return, I feel emboldened, filled with a festive, playful confidence. I climb back onto the bed and straddle him, sitting upright on his chest. He looks up at me through half-closed eyelids, a lazy, satisfied lion.
“I can feel your heart beating fast,” I say, pressing my palm flat against his chest. It’s hammering.
“Of course it’s beating fast,” he replies, his voice husky with sleep. “You’re naked and sitting on me.”
“Let’s go to the rink,” I say, the idea hitting me with the force of a divine Christmas revelation. “Right now. The one we built. It’s still there, even if the party was cancelled. I want you to start teaching me.”
A predatory smile spreads across his face. “Let’s go,” he says. And before I can react, he sits up, scoops me into his arms, and stands. I yelp, grabbing onto his broad shoulders as he carries me, naked, out of the bedroom.
And so, on a foggy Christmas morning, we find ourselves alone on our little homemade rink.
The air is cold and crisp, the ice a smooth, grey mirror under the pearly light.
Raiden holds me tightly from behind, his skates gliding effortlessly as he pushes us forward.
It’s more like he’s just skating with me than teaching me.
He pulls me close, his arms wrapped around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder.
“You wanna know a secret?” he asks, his warm breath ghosting across my cheek.
I nod, pressing my face back against his.
“I don’t really want you to learn how to skate. I want you to skate only with me. And I will hold you. And I will never let you go.”
My heart feels like it’s going to burst. I twist in his arms and kiss him. We just stand there for a moment, in the middle of the ice, looking into each other’s eyes.
Then I frown, pulling back slightly. “You don’t have to worry too much about me learning to skate, anyway. It seems impossible. The only thing I’m more likely to learn is how to fall in an even more epic way.”
I try to prove my point with a clumsy spin and my feet immediately go out from under me. But he’s there, his arms like steel bands, holding me tight against his chest.
“I won’t let you fall,” he says, his voice firm. And then he playfully bites my lower lip. “Unless it’s onto me. Right on top of me. I’d take that kind of fall.”