Page 120 of Dead Set on You
Where are you?
Are you ok?
Do I need to come bury Rafael’s body?
I laugh, inclined to text her that the only crime that’s happened here tonight is that I’ve been left to burn and that the perpetrator continues to scorch all the places he’s touched, especially the ones I’ve only imagined him touching.
But to be fair, it is Rafael’s night. I shouldn’t be feeling any sort of way about him having to go back to his family and friends and business.
Fighting the urge to go out there and yell at everyone to go home already, I text Gemma that I’m totally fine and that I’ll find her soon.
I take a deep breath and curl my hands around the doorknob.
It moves before I can twist it, and the door opens.
Rafael stands in the doorway, his gaze so intense it makes my knees knock together. Without looking away, he closes the door and locks it. Prowls forward.
“What—” I don’t finish because his mouth is on mine, swallowing the rest of the question. He moves so fast I grip his shirt to steady myself, and he’s pushing us back into the small office, his hands cradling my face as he guides me backward, his lips searing a promise into mine.
My ass hits the edge of the desk.
I don’t think or question or doubt.
Dress hiking up around my hips, I hook my legs around his waist and draw him to me. Rafael leans forward, one arm braced on the desk, another one curling around my neck, holding me to him. I lift up, into him, his hardness pressing into my core, taunting me through the thin material of my panties. I moan into his mouth as he mutters against my skin, kissing as he goes. His breath hot against my neck, I lean my head to the side, hands braced on the desk, to give him unobstructed access. His lips singe my skin, sending sparks of heat low into my belly (and lower), leaving me wet and wanting more. His hungry lips drift to my collarbone, licking the dip there, and my legs clench in response.
“Wait …” I groan, pulsing with desire. Rafael peels his face away, and the ravenousness in his gaze makes me want to be his feast. Legs weak, I drop them from around his waist and push from the desk. Rafael watches, his breathing hitched and stilted, but I need to even the playing field … so I start with his shirt, my fingers surprisingly agile and adept as they begin to unbutton the very frustrating and inconvenient row of buttons. Rafael growls impatiently and dips his face to my neck, where his tongue flicks against my skin, making me stumble.
“Cheater,” I breathe. He chuckles into my ear, a husky laugh that has me tearing through the last of the buttons. “Take it off.”
When he pulls away, his eyes are glazed with want. “Bossy,” he says, peeling the shirt off and tossing it onto the sofa.
His chest is tanned and toned, and I want to give in to the fantasies his bare chest (and other parts) inspired that morning in his bed. So I hook my finger into his pants and tug him back into me, kissing the length of his neck, along his collarbone, letting my lips taste and nip and lick, enjoying the way he tenses as I go. My fingers explore his chest, lingering as I caress the dips of his muscles, moving downward.
His hands capture mine before I can reach for his belt. “We need to even the score,” he rasps, ragged and breathless.
I lift my gaze from his hips to his eyes, which hypnotize me long enough that his fingers hook beneath the strap of my dress and tug it down. He does the same to the other side, until the top of my dress falls to my waist. His eyes shutter as his fingers graze the bare skin of my abdomen. I shiver at the contact, leaning into him. His hand moves upward, along my stomach, his fingers plucking on invisible strings and making my insides sing in want.
“You’re fucking incredible,” he says, cupping my breasts.
“You’re a terrible tease.” I twist my head into the crook of his neck and bite.
Rafael lets out a low, tortured sound as his hands slip from my chest to my hips, spinning me around in one fluid move. My hands anchor me to the desk as his body molds to mine from behind, his bare chest pressed to my spine.
My breath hitches into my throat as liquid heat soaks through my panties. He drops a kiss into the crook of my neck, and I shiver and tighten everywhere. His hand skims along thelength of my abdomen, grazing my ribs, then my hips, until he reaches the hem of my dress, where he grips onto my thigh. The promise in that grip makes my nipples harden, and his lips on my shoulder—his tongue against my skin—make me want to dig my nails into the desk.
I almost combust into a pile of ash as Rafael lifts the hem of my dress upward, leaving my skin exposed. His fingers and lips tease and torture, and when I think I can’t possibly break apart even further, his hand slides from the hot flesh of my thigh to my panties. I arch into him, into his hardness, gasping when his fingers slide beneath the lace. The heat in my body collects in the place where his fingers touch and stroke, and it takes only seconds to convince me the clit is most certainly an organ, with the vital function of making me feel like I’m alive for the first time in so long.
Rafael’s fingers plunge in and out of me, creating a friction that makes me press into him.
“I—please—” I gasp, pressing into the hard length of him. Rafael bites the place between my shoulder and neck, and I buck into him when his finger turns into two. I tighten around him, gasping, “Please.”
“Since you asked nicely …” He nips at my ear. I barely register his movements, so focused on not dissolving into a pile of molten lava on the floor. “Now, stay.” Rafael’s fingers slip out of me, and I throb, needing him back.
I twist so I can see him. He’s in his boxer briefs, which hide none of his erection, but he’s not taking them off … and he’s taking so long.
“What?” I breathe, turning fully to face him.
“I don’t have any condoms.”
