Page 246 of Rosetti Family New York
He growls low in his throat, lips dragging along my neck.
“Say it again.”
I whisper against his skin.
“You’re the only place I feel found.”
His control breaks. He presses me against the rooftop wall. My fingers fumble at his shirt. His lips bruise mine, his hands possessive.
Voice wrecked, he whispers, “I’m going to ruin you for anyone else.”
I smile faintly, breathless.
“Too late.”
He chuckles then, a low rumble against my mouth. I feel it skittering down my spine. His fingers trace fire along my sides as they slide up to cradle my face, pulling me in for another deep, languid kiss.
"Rafe," I whisper against his lips.
One hand slides down to rest on my lower back, holding me flush against him. A shudder wracks through me at the feel of his strong body against mine. Suddenly the slabs of cold stone pressing into my back don't seem so icy anymore.
His voice is a harsh whisper, muffled against my neck.
"Whoever you need me to kill, princess, I’ll do it."
I pull back to look at him then, really look at him. His eyes are hard and intense under the dim glow of the city lights far belowus. But there's a softness there too, a gentleness underneath that gruff exterior.
And with that, he covers my mouth with his again, our bodies arching towards each other. His touch is a lifeline, a balm to my shattered soul.
We break apart only when our lungs demand it, our breath mingling in the cold night air. The twinkling city lights swirl before my eyes.
His arms tighten around me, anchoring me to reality.
"Remember," he says, his voice a hoarse whisper against my ear. "Whatever happens... I got you."
Tears prick at my eyes, but I force them back. This isn't the time for tears. Running my fingers over his stubbled jawline, I press myself closer, cocooned in the heat of Rafe's body against the cold wind cutting into us from all sides. I find comfort in the rhythm of his breath against my cheek, steady as the beat of a war drum.
In this moment, it feels as if we stand on the precipice of a cataclysmic event. There's a sense of finality in the air, a line drawn between our past hurts and future battles. The world below us, our city, seems at once distant and intimately close.
"I know," I reply with a quiet certainty, nestling into the crook of his neck.
My heart pounds against his chest in Morse Code, spelling out words I don't have the courage to say.
I slide my hands down his chest, feeling the solid muscles under his shirt. He watches me, a silent question in his eyes, but doesn't move to stop me. My heart pounds with excited nerves as I kneel before him on the cold rooftop.
"Look at me," he commands softly.
His voice is rough with desire, but there's tenderness too that sends a jolt through me. Even now, like this, his priority is not to take but to give, to ensure that I'm okay.
“What are you doing?” he demands.
I look up at him, my voice like smoke.
"You tell me."
His jaw is tight as he says, "Sloane."
I remain soft, sure.
