Chapter 9
Rafe
“Your cock is looking a little shrivelled these days.”
“Our cock is fine. You’re supposed to be listening, not gawking.”
“If gawking means zoned out, then yes, I did. Hard not to zone out when you talk.”
“Is this how sarcastic we are? No wonder I’m thumped in the ribs on the daily.”
My interest is piqued. “And who thumps your ribs on the daily?” I already know the answer, but I do like it—hate it—when he confirms it more for me. It’s like pleasure pain torture. I can’t get enough.
“Don’t ask questions.”
“Says the man who told me more than he should have.”
Rafe purses his lips, intertwines his fingers and rests them on my desk, bobbing his head.
He knows he fucked up. He knows he should have left everything be.
Now all he’s done is give me an idyllic picture of my future, one I can’t stop imagining.
Not so long ago I was content with living a dry, uneventful life.
Yet seeing Lina stirred a cauldron of urges.
A variety of lust, yearning, hope and peace.
I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. Not without seeing her.
“She’s married, Rafe,” I say, grinding my back teeth. He doesn’t bother responding, instead he shifts back in the chair, his attention to the window. My focus turns to his cock and balls resting against the wood I’d not long polished. If only travelling meant our clothes too.
“Your crotch will smell like oranges.”
“There are worse smells, besides, she likes it,” he winks, and it makes me nauseous. Even though he’s me, and I him, when I see my future or past self, it’s more a brotherly feeling that runs through me.
This older version of myself exasperates me. “Why are you here?”
“You didn’t listen, did you.”
“Nope,” I say, shuffling through paperwork left over from yesterday’s transport roll.
He slaps down a piece of parchment. ‘In another life.’
“It’s a novel. Romance. Her favourite… or will be. You must read it to her.”
“Me? Read her a romance novel? Why would I do that.”
“To rewrite bad memories.”
Squeezing the bridge of my nose, I exhale. Deep, slow. Methodical. Because he’s one comment away from me re-arranging his face. To busy my hands, I reach into the drawer behind me, swiping up some spare clothes, shoving them at his chest as I walk past.
“Anyone could roam in.”
“Right, and they’d be more alarmed seeing me naked than seeing two of us.”
“We really are sarcastic,” I murmur, moving to my portal. “By the time I get back, I want you gone.”
“Where you going?”
“To get Lina those biscuits in case she swings by again.”