Page 47 of Rafi

There’s a vulnerability to Tayana in this moment, one she tries so hard to mask. And as much as I respect her need for privacy, I can’t shake the feeling that her past—her uncle, her father, all of it—is the key to understanding her.

When the call ends, she doesn’t return to her spot by the window right away. Instead, she leans against the wall, her head tilted back and her eyes closed, like she’s bracing herself for something.

“How’d it go?” I ask gently.

Her eyes flick open, and she exhales slowly. “It went.”

I nod, deciding to let it rest—for now. But the questions linger, hanging in the air between us like a vaporous cloud.

I approach her, tentative steps that close the space between us. I haven’t touched her since that day at the lookout, before everything went to shit, but my hands itch with the desire to be on her. She’s unmoving as her eyes follow me until I’m standing in front of her. So close, yet too far.

I want to touch her. My hands clench and unclench at my sides, burning with the desire to reach out and feel her. Taste her.

The tension between us crackles, a live wire strung too tight. Her eyes lock on mine, daring me, testing me, but her body stays motionless. She’s as still as a statue, but I can see the storm brewing behind her cool facade. Her lips part slightly, drawing my gaze down, and I’m hit with the memory of how they felt against mine, how they tasted.

She shifts her weight, one hip jutting out just enough to make my gaze drop for a fraction of a second before snapping back to her face. I can’t stand it anymore. The push and pull, the game we’re playing—it’s killing me. My hand moves before I can stop it, my fingers brushing against her arm. Her skin is warm, softer than I remember, and she doesn’t pull away.

Her breath hitches, just barely, but it’s enough to embolden me. My hand slides up her arm, across her shoulder, until my fingers are in her hair, tangling in the silky strands. Her eyes flutter shut for a moment before snapping back open, defiant and blazing.

The tension between us is suffocating, electric, and I can feel her pulse racing beneath my fingertips as my other hand moves to her waist. She doesn’t pull away. If anything, she leans into me, her body betraying her.

Her lips part, but no words come out. Instead, she grabs the front of my shirt, pulling me to her with a force that sends myblood roaring in my ears. Her mouth crashes into mine, and all the tension, all the anger and desire and frustration, explodes between us.

The world narrows to just the two of us—her heat, her taste, the way her body moves against mine like she was made for me. I press my hips against her, and she moans, the sound going straight to my already hard cock.

I drop to my haunches, until I’m facing her crotch. I reach out and slide her panties slowly down her thighs, and she lifts her legs out of them. I lift the fabric to my nose and inhale deeply, her scent an intoxication that almost knocks me off my feet. I slip her panties into my pocket, my movements deliberate, never breaking eye contact. When I finally lift my head, her gaze meets mine—half-lidded, smoldering, and full of unspoken heat.

My hands palm her thighs as I move forward, pinning her to the wall. I inhale more of her scent, before I dart my tongue out and lap at her juices. I lift one of her legs, hooking it over my shoulder to open her up further, giving me full access to her pussy. She gasps as I devour her, alternating between long, slow strokes and rapid flicks of my tongue. Her body trembles, the wall behind her bearing the weight of her surrender.

Her moans grow louder, echoing in the confined space. I glance up, catching the way her head thrashes side to side, her chest rising and falling as she struggles to catch her breath. Her nails dig into my scalp, pulling me closer, as though she can’t get enough.

The taste of her, the way her body responds to me—it’s addictive. My fingers slip between her legs, joining my tongue as I slide two inside her, curling them into that zone that’s bound to tip her over the edge. Her hips buck, her cries spilling out unchecked as I work her closer and closer to the edge.

Her thighs quiver against my shoulders, and I feel the tension in her body snap. She shatters, crying out my nameas she clenches around my fingers. I hold her through it, unrelenting, my mouth and hands drawing every last ounce of pleasure from her.

When she finally collapses against the wall, her breathing uneven, I rise to my feet. Her eyes are heavy-lidded, her lips parted, her face flushed and glowing. Without breaking eye contact, I bring my fingers to my lips, tasting her once more, and her breath hitches.

“You’re insatiable,” I tell her, and my hand slides up her thigh again, teasing, already aching to pull her back under once again.

27

RAFI

At first, I feel no hesitation about bringing Tayana to Leo’s den. It seems like the logical move—a safe place where we might get answers. But the moment we step inside and Leo’s head swivels in her direction, his eyes raking up and down her frame, I feel a surge of irritation bubbling beneath my skin. His so-called “blindness” suddenly becomes twenty twenty vision.

I can still feel her on my tongue, can feel her on the fingers I refused to wash before we left the shelter. I want her smell on me, on everything I touch, so she’s with me even when she isn’t. And this little pissant is trampling all over my orgasmic high as I watch him ogle her.

I watch his gaze travel from her shoes to her eyes, lingering far too long to be innocent. Something about it sends a sharp bolt of protectiveness through me, and before I realize what I’m doing, I reach out and snatch the ridiculous glasses off his face.

“You fucker!” I snap, holding the glasses aloft like evidence in a trial.

His bloodshot eyes narrow against the sudden exposure to the light. Up close, his irises dart back and forth, searching my gaze; hardly the mark of a blind man.

“Rafi, give those back,” he mutters, wincing.

“Blind?” I hiss, leaning closer to him. “Blind, my big, fat, round ass. You’ve been lying to me this whole time!”

“The light irritates me!” he snaps, his voice rising in frustration. “I need the glasses to filter it out. You don’t understand what it’s like.”

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