Chapter 4
SERAPHINA
The second I step into my apartment, I kick the door shut, flip the lock on the deadbolt, and slide the chain into place.
I let out a long, exhausted breath. Today was a doozy, one filled with being on the edge of desire.
I didn’t know if I should drop to my knees for Rafe or rush to the bathroom and take care of myself.
I didn’t do either. Instead, he grunted at me and sent heated looks my way, that’s when we were by ourselves.
The moment a person got within earshot, Rafe Montero did a complete one-eighty.
I could handle my boss’ grumpy side. The one that pretended I wasn’t around? Yeah, that was a kick to the ego.
It was only when I saw the glimpse of him talking to his sister on the phone that I saw him let his guard down.
I also realized the tired look in his eyes wasn’t due to his heavy work load but something deep and personal.
When he got off the phone, I grabbed my tablet, told him I’d order lunch, and didn’t stick around.
My panties were uncomfortably wet, plus I’m pretty sure I pushed him enough for one day.
I make my way through my apartment to open a few curtains, letting the last bit of daylight filter through the windows.
It makes my apartment feel a little less lonely, which I need tonight.
My nerves are frayed, and not because of Rafe barking orders or being the disgruntled grizzly bear. Oh no, that would be easy to handle.
My fingers slip the buttons loose on my shirt as I walk toward the bathroom, where a long soak in hot water will surely relieve the ache Rafe Montero tends to keep me in. His parting words tonight were no different. Good night, Seraphina. Sweet dreams.
Deep.
Smooth.
Commanding.
I groan, wishing he were here with me, backing me up against the wall, crouching down so we’re on eye level. It’d also help with the need to feel him completely. I’d hike a leg over his hip, my skirt would lift, and his nostrils would flare with molten lava. Longing.
My hand finds the switch to the bathroom, but the overhead light is too bright, so my eyes instantly close.
I allow them to readjust while I dig around for a few candles to light, along with the rechargeable lamp I keep on the corner of the vanity.
I’m a natural light type of girl or keep it dim as much as possible.
Once I’m done with that, I slip out of my blouse, skirt, and bra, leaving me in just my lace thong while I finish getting the bathroom ready.
When the ambiance is set, I hit the light switch to the off position and go about starting the water, needing it nice and hot.
While the tub is filling, I head back out to the living area, turn the stereo on to a playlist I created, Slow Dancing in a Kitchen, turning the volume high enough to hear in the bathroom but not blaring.
I then go about pulling out a few ingredients in the kitchen, my hips slowly swaying to the music as I sing along to the lyrics while I pour myself a healthy glass of wine.
It’s a girl dinner type of night, especially after ordering lunch for Rafe and myself.
Whereas he devoured his meal of pork chops, mashed potatoes, and steamed vegetables, I stuck with a club sandwich and pasta salad.
I made it through half my meal when he looked longingly at mine, still hungry.
I’d had all intentions of saving it for lunch tomorrow, but I couldn’t let the man starve.
I cut up some cheese, then throw some salami on the plate next to the already added blackberries and grapes, then the salty goodness of pickles, followed by peach habanero-cheese-stuffed red picante peppers.
I make my way back to the bathroom with my goodies, when I see myself in the mirror: flush cheeks, pebbled nipples, swollen lips from biting at them. And I’m sure Rafe saw it all considering he’s part of the reason I’m in this constant state of arousal.
A shiver rolls down my spine despite the warmth gathering in the room.
I set the plate and glass of wine on the ledge of the tub, turn the water off, and step inside.
The honeysuckle-scented bath oil wraps around me like a lover’s caress.
My fingers glide down the slope of my neck, teasing myself until my palms cup my breasts.
My nipples pucker, and the water laps at them as my thumb slides over the sensitive tips.
I’m too amped up to take this slow, so I continue my path, gliding along my ribs.
A soft, jagged moan bounces off the tiled room, the water acting like a conductor, carrying the vibration of my own voice back to my skin.
My eyes close. Rafe looks good, unfairly good, dressed like sin in expensive fabric.
And the way he stared at me, unreadable for only a second until his eyes darkened, his cheeks hollowed out, all before running his fingers through his hair.
I did that. I nearly made him lose control.
And when his gaze slowly landed on my mouth, I knew he was tempted.
My breath catches all over again at the memory.
The air around us shifted to heavy, charged, and intimate.
Then he stepped closer. He didn’t dare to touch me, but it did get worse.
Rafe was close enough that I could smell his intoxicating scent, the lingering undertone of smoke, and it wrapped around me like his hand would my throat.
“Oh god,” I rush out. The tip of my finger slowly circles my clit.
My chest rises and falls with each shallow gasp of breath hitching in my chest. I’m unable to stop my hips from moving in time with my hand as I sink two fingers inside my center, my thumb sliding over the slippery bud.
The soft waves slosh over the porcelain tub, making a mess for me to clean up later.
Right now, I’m too busy chasing that sharp edge.
My core clenches, the ache I’ve built is demanding release.
I increase the pressure, my fingers working in a frantic, slick pace.
The heat from my impending orgasm seems to seep deep into my blood.
“Please,” I beg. The soft command only makes the tension coil tighter, into a vibrating knot in my lower stomach.
My eyes closed with Rafe standing just a hairsbreadth away.
I could have sworn he’d been about to kiss me, but instead of closing the distance, he lifts his hand now, cupping the nape of my neck in the barest of touches.
So gentle yet firm to keep me rooted to my spot.
His thumb brushes beneath my ear, reverent, restrained, yet somehow just as intimate as a kiss would be.
One hand wraps around the ledge, knuckles turning white as a tidal wave of sensations roll through my body.
My orgasm hits hard, violently, and explosively.
My vision goes white behind my closed eyelids.
“Rafe.” His name escapes my lips. The fluttering of my pussy doesn’t stop, if anything, it goes on longer, making me feel suspended, weightless, and burning as the pleasure consumes me body and soul.
By the time I take my fingers off my aching pussy, I’m slumped against the back of the tub, floating in deliriousness, and my limbs feel like lead, heavy and beautifully useless.
I stay where I am, allowing the tremors to continue rippling through my thighs, and bask in the glowing candlelight.
All I can think about is if my orgasm is this strong with only my fingers, I’m not sure I’ll be prepared if Rafe ever gets his hands on me. God, I hope he does.