78. Zona #3
He swallows hard, eyes dark and fixed on me.
His fingers dig into my thighs, and he pushes up just enough that I feel the full press of him, the contact sends something molten straight through me, and a moan slips out of my throat.
I cling to him as he rolls his hips into me and I know then, I’ll never stop chasing this feeling.
The pleasure of us, of him. The pressure builds, deep and urgent, heat spreading.
I press closer without meaning to, seeking relief I don’t know how to ask for.
My body arches into him on instinct, the sensation cresting, overwhelming and unexpectedly sudden. I bury my face in his shoulder, a broken sound torn out of me as the pressure finally breaks, rippling through me in a way that leaves me breathless and weak all at once.
“Rafe—Oh G—” I don’t even finish the sound. I can’t.
He holds me tighter, one hand firm at my back, the other cradling my head against his neck. I feel him inhale weakly, feel the way he stills himself completely so I can come apart without falling himself.
“That’s it, don’t hold back. Feel it.” he whispers. “I feel everything you’re doing to me and you’re not even trying.”
My legs feel unsteady. My heart is racing so hard it’s pounding in my ears. I cling to him, breathing him in, a little embarrassed but glowing. When I finally lift my head and sit up, his eyes seem to sparkle in some ridiculous awe of me.
“Engaged,” he murmurs. “To the deadliest woman I’ve ever met.” He grins and raises an eyebrow, but his eyes are still heavy with lust, hands gripping my thighs again like he’ll explode into a million pieces any second now.
Something bold sparks through me, extra confidence blooming in the aftermath.
I press against him with my hips, until I can feel the tension there, proof of how badly he wants me.
I rock against him, tugging at the waistband of his boxers.
Before I can move again, before I can return even a fraction of what he’s given me—his phone vibrates.
We both freeze.
He groans, then a startled laugh follows. “You have got to be kidding me. That is criminal timing.”
He fumbles for the phone on the bedside table, still breathless, holding me with one hand like if he lets go now he won’t get me back.
“Yes?” he answers, distracted, voice rough. Then he stills. “Mum?”
I hear her immediately, even without the speaker phone on, her brisk and affectionate voice carries easily. Her determination is unstoppable when she’s on a mission and from the look on Rafe’s face, she clearly is.
“No, I know, I know,” he says, smiling despite himself. “You said—”
I press my mouth to his neck. He sucks in a breath.
“Yes, Mum. I’m listening.”
I kiss the hollow beneath his jaw, feel his pulse jump. My hands slide along his chest, just enough to feel warmth and skin, to remind him exactly where he is.
“You didn’t visit for Christmas,” his mother says, louder now.
Rafe laughs. “Yes, I remember. It wasn't that long ago.”
I bite his shoulder, playful and not at all subtle. He drops the phone onto his chest trying to muffle the sound.
“Doctor Sawadzka, I am on the phone with my mum,” he hisses, barely holding it together.
From the phone, loud and clear: “Tae-il! Do not ignore me!” She switches languages mid-sentence, bold and commanding. “Tae-il-ah!”
We both jolt. I burst out laughing, pulling back.
“Yes, yes,” he says quickly, flustered. “We’ll come for New Year’s.
I promise.” He looks up at me, eyes twinkling with mischief as he lets his hands start to roam, a hand reaching my throat, then he snaps back to the conversation.
“Yes Mum, she’ll eat tteokguk, you can make it like always.
” He ends the call and exhales, head dropping back, looking at the ceiling.
For a moment I just study him, all my favorite curves and lines along his face, the perfect tip of his nose, that mouth that does unspeakable things to me, then I say it. “Tae-il?”
He blinks then looks up with a smirk, propping a hand beneath his head. “You understood that too, huh?”
“Every syllable.”
He smiles, sheepish. “Mum said she wanted her roots to anchor me. So, she planted them in the center.” He shrugs.
“Now you know my deepest, darkest secret.” His eyes narrow, looking at me like he’s about to ask the combination code to unlock the universe.
“But I’ve just realized, I don’t even know your middle name. An unfair situation, wouldn't you say?”
I laugh. “You never asked.”
“Well,” he says, amused, “I’m asking now.”
“Jadwiga,” I tell him. “My Babcia’s name.”
He lifts his head. “Jadwiga,” he repeats, testing it. “I think I’ll call you that from now on.”
I smack his chest. “Don’t you dare.”
He laughs, then sobers, “No,” he says quietly. “I know what I’ll call you. But first… where were we?”
He pulls me in by the back of the neck and kisses me again, slow and sure, like the whole world can wait, like it answers only to us. When he pulls back, he whispers into my mouth, voice graveled by the desire he was forced to delay.
“?ona.”