Page 40 of Flame
Chapter Nine
Iwake up in Rafe’s bed, but this time I’m not alone. He lies next to me, his hand thrown over my waist, his scent in my lungs. I can’t resist stroking my fingers through his hair, marveling at the sight of him like this, vulnerable for once, his body devoid of tension.
Some of his injuries look slightly better in the pale dawn light, including the one on his chest. I inch closer, tentatively brushing my fingers over the ridge of his pec.
“Damn, bunny.” He opens his eyes, focusing on me. “I thought waking up with your head near my dick was torture enough. You had to go and kick it up a notch.”
His words trigger an impulse only he has ever inspired in me. I rise onto my hands and knees, inching back toward the end of the mattress, aware that I have his full attention.
His confusion quickly morphs into shock as I slip my hand between his legs, urging them to part. He does slowly, creating a large enough space for me to crawl in between them while lacing my fingers around the waistband of his sweatpants.
As I drag them down partway, my chest heaves, revealing the trail of dark curls shielding what lies below. I look up to find him watching me avidly, his upper body propped on his elbows.
“Keep going,” he commands hoarsely.
I do, easing the fabric down as he shifts to assist me. I’m soon faced with a part of him I’ve felt in the most intimate way possible. He’s beautiful—reddening flesh mapped by a crisscrossing of swollen veins. Carefully, I reach out, tracing the path of one.
I’ve barely gone an inch as he grits his teeth, his head rearing back against his shoulders. “Fuck, I need you to—”
He can’t even put it into words. Instead, he lunges for my wrist and directs my hand downward, and it’s as if I can readhismind for once.
Open your hands. Like that.
Grip me harder. Harder.
“Shit, bunny.” He fists his free hand over the sheets. Soon, a request becomes apparent, written across his gaze as if in blazing neon letters.
Slowly, I sink to my belly with my legs dangling off the end of the bed. Any doubt vanishes the second I see his face. His wet lips slightly parted, his gaze so intent on me that I almost fear I’ll combust from the force of it, honed like the full intensity of the sun.
It’s cruel how long I make him wait, hovering with my mouth dangerously close to where he craves it the most. Needs it. A vein in his neck jumps the second I brush my tongue along the tip of him, and I’m startled by the taste. Musky. Powerful. Not offensive.
“Jesus,” he groans, watching like a hawk as I take him in as deeply as I dare.
A list of supposed actions—all overheard from Mara in vivid detail—cross my mind, only to fade beneath a wave of pleasure that shocks me to my core. Electrifies. Emboldens me.
I stop thinking and focus on wringing every gasp and grunt from him that I can.
“Stop!” He cradles my scalp in his hands, urging me off of him.
My confused glance is met with a growl as he flips me over, straddling my hips. He makes short work of my skirt and shirt. Then, our lips meet, his easily overpowering mine as his hand slips between my legs, easing a finger inside me.
My readiness makes him groan as he rocks his hips to replace the digit with a larger appendage. He thrusts in hard, letting my body greedily adjust to his size.
It’s a sinful cross between pleasurable and painful. Then he strokes out, and in again, and it’s fire. My mind reels with how vital an act can seem, though you’ve gone most of your life without it. How a single touch, kiss, and bit of contact can rival any other desire life has to offer. It’s like my body didn’t know whatfeelingtruly was until it learned to grapple with the invasion of his.
The sheer depth of what it can be like to be known by someone else so deeply.
How dangerous it can feel to burn beneath another’s body heat.
How good.
How reckless.
How destructive.
* * *
It’s onlyin the early afternoon when Rafe finally drags himself from the mattress long enough to heat up some food. We devour leftover tamales at the counter, and he eyes the time on the microwave with a curse.
