Chapter 17 #2
Grace smiled to herself and started typing. She was going to let him destroy her, wasn’t she? She’d already been through hell. She could take it. She might as well just enjoy it and then start bracing for the aftermath.
Grace: “Should we invite Obinna for breakfast? At dawn?”
Rafael: “That’s still too long to wait. I want you now.”
Ugh, how could her nipples get hard from a single text message? And the way her body was thrumming, she couldn’t possibly sleep. Not that she was a great sleeper anyway, but there was no longer any hope.
“What would you do?” she asked, sending the message before she could think twice.
The three dots to indicate that Raf was typing were torture. Alma let out a loud snore beside her, and Grace jumped, then covered her mouth to hold in a laugh.
Rafael: “What if you came in here and found out?”
Grace felt the flush spreading down her face and neck.
If she had a single ounce of will power left in her body, she couldn’t find it.
She needed him. It was as simple as that.
She glanced at Alma and released a long breath.
Then she stretched her legs over the side of the bed, easing them down as carefully as possible until her feet were on the floor.
As lightly as she possibly could, she padded out of the room, closing the door behind her.
She felt more confident than she had all afternoon. Her desperation had hit its peak, and there was no turning back, no stopping herself. For some reason, he wanted her, and she couldn’t walk away from that so easily.
“Gracias a Dios,” Raf huffed when Grace slipped into the room. It sent a thrill through her, the way his eyes eagerly took her in, even though she was dressed in her stupid hamster pajamas and her hair was a mess. None of that mattered to him.
She locked his door, then stood with her back up against it, breathing heavily as if she’d traveled miles to get to his room instead of mere feet.
There was no hesitation then. No awkwardness like when they returned from the cathedrals and didn’t know where to start.
They’d been hungry for each other for hours, and there was no time for gentle kisses or cheek caressing.
Rafael got to his knees on the bed in anticipation, and as soon as Grace was within reach, he kissed her fiercely, his hands already tugging at her shirt, his firm length already pressed against her middle.
He spun her around and threw her on the bed, and she let out a little squeal.
“Shhhh,” he scolded. “You’ll have to be quiet this time. Think you can do that?”
Grace smirked up at him. “I’ll try.”
“I’ve been wasting away over here,” he said as he leaned over her, pressing a trail of kisses down her neck and her chest before he continued down and down and down. He tugged at the waistband of her hamster pajamas. “I wasn’t expecting to be so turned on by these.”
Grace writhed against his touch, but before she could reply, the pajamas were around her knees, and then her ankles, and Rafael was making himself right at home between her thighs.
“Hnmm,” he said, and she fell against the pillows on his bed with her palm covering her mouth. Yes, it was settled then. She was definitely going to let him destroy her.
Grace woke up to the sound of Alma crying.
She’d slipped back into her own bed the night before, even though she’d so desperately wanted to sleep next to Rafael, to feel him curved against her body all night long.
Instead, she was hanging halfway off the tiny mattress in her room, and she glanced up to find Alma standing near the door, phone clutched in hand, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“What’s going on?” Grace asked. “Are you okay?”
Alma pouted. “He hasn’t called or texted or anything, Gracie. He really must not want to speak to me again.”
Grace glanced at her own phone. “It’s 6:00 in the morning.” She’d been joking about inviting Obinna over at dawn, but maybe that wouldn’t have been a bad idea.
“I know he’s awake. I know his routine.”
Grace got out of bed and shuffled toward Alma, then pulled her into a hug. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry before. I’m not sure what to do.”
“I know,” Alma said. “I don’t like this. I should have known falling in love was a terrible idea.”
“There’s no way that man doesn’t want to talk to you. It sounds like his whole problem is that he thinks he loves you more.”
Alma groaned. “I know you were with Derek way longer, but now I can understand a little bit of what you were going through after your breakup. I feel like my heart has burst, and now all of the juices are leaking out of it until I die.”
“That’s quite an image.”
“I’m just at a loss.”
“I know.” Grace rubbed her friend’s back and held her close.
Alma had been there for her through everything, when she lost her job and Derek and Gram.
Alma had helped move her across the world, given her a home, a life.
And here was ungrateful, idiotic Grace, sneaking out of the room to fool around with Alma’s big brother.
Clearly, she was an asshole. But she was going to be better in the future.
She was going to take care of Alma. And even though she was sure Alma and Obinna would work this out, she was going to pull out all the stops.
Ice cream and rom coms and painting toenails on the couch while listening to Celine Dion and drinking sangria.
She was going to be the most amazing friend on the planet.
“What do you want to do today?” she asked. “Anything at all.”
“I don’t know. Sit in your bed and cry?” Alma sighed. “I’ve never felt like this in my life. I don’t know how to handle it. What’s happened to me?”
“It’s not a bad thing to care so much for someone, Alma.”
“Then why does it hurt like this?”
A familiar pain rose to the surface in Grace’s chest. She knew exactly what Alma was feeling—the loss and the grief and the fear that the person you spent every day with was suddenly no longer there.
When Derek broke up with her, she was lost in the same way and so confused.
She couldn’t understand how he would upend their lives like that.
What could she have possibly done wrong to make him blow up their relationship?
But months of distance and the move to another country was starting to make her think he’d done the right thing.
Life with Derek had been…fine. It was comfortable and easy, for the most part.
They rarely argued. They rarely did much of anything.
Derek never even seemed that interested in listening to her, not in the way Rafael did—sitting with his chin in his hands, drinking in every word she spoke, like all of it was important and monumental.
Like she mattered. Not in a million years would she have expected Raf to be the person to make her feel that way.
She’d never come alive when Derek put a hand on her thigh.
She’d never longed for him, desperate to get home and feel his fingers in her hair.
She’d never felt an electric spark that sizzled right under her skin. She’d never known what she was missing.
She bit her lip and tried to stifle the sudden feeling that bubbled up in her belly, forcing herself to ignore it.
Alma and Obinna weren’t Grace and Derek, and Grace was sure this wasn’t the end of their story. She just needed to figure out how to get Alma to feel her feelings, to let Obinna know what she really wanted, to be vulnerable for the first time in her entire life.
“I need a drink,” Alma said.
Grace pulled back and examined her friend’s face to see if she was serious. “It’s Sunday. And the sun isn’t even up.”
Alma scoffed. “When would it be appropriate to drink then, Gracie? I thought we could do whatever I wanted.”
Grace scrunched up her face. “Mimosas?”
Alma smiled, a hint of her usual self peeking out. “Now you’re talking.”