Page 101 of Dead Set on You
His left eyebrow arches. “Evie.” I hear the challenge in his voice, which is rolled up with amusement and something darkand molten. Rafael—even when sober—barely has a poker face, doesn’t bother to conceal his emotions or to mince his words. But left wholly unfiltered—thanks to tequila and the aftermath of celebrating his birthday—he’s an open book with the pages fluttering in the wind. Pick a page and read your heart out.
I’m trying to grasp at my traitorous (high-definition, palpitation-inducing) thoughts and shove them back into their compartments. Close the Evie Pope book firmly shut, lock it in a chest, and toss it into the lake.
No way we’re doing this.
No. Way.
“We can keep our underwear on.” He tugs on the elastic band of his boxers as if to reassure me. I don’t know why I look, because looking makes me flustered, and feeling flustered doesn’t line up with making sound, safe decisions.
I’m a grown woman, who is going to turn away while he puts his clothes back on.
I’m a ghost, who might not wake up tomorrow.
I toe the line between doing one of the most impulsive things I’ve done in my entire life … and regretting not doing it.
Not dropping my gaze from his, I suck in a deep breath and begin to unzip my dress. “Consider this your birthday gift.”
Rafael’s eyes spark with surprise, even in the moonlight, and I shiver despite not feeling a bit of the breeze that’s kissed his skin in goose bumps. His eyes follow my movements without an ounce of shame, and though I never dreamed I’d be stripping in front of Rafael Vela, I shrug off the dress and let it fall into a pile of cotton and rayon at my feet.
With only the cover of moonlight, I’m standing in my dust-pink bra and satin hipsters on the beach, in the middle of the night, with the person I’ve often dreamed of holding underwater until the bubbles stopped. It’s insane. I want to throw my hands over the bare parts of my skin, which tingle and burn as Rafael’s eyes take stock, roaming over every dip and curve of my body.I’d be a hypocrite to deny him when I was doing much of the same a minute ago.
“It’s my favorite one yet,” he says, his voice a husky purr.
“Favorite one?”
“Gift.”
“Oh,” I breathe, very much wanting to cover at least my midsection or my cleavage, because I feel exposed. I curl my hands into fists and straighten, mimicking Rafael’s nonchalant, non-self-aware stance.
“Don’t you even think about covering up, E. You’re breathtaking.”
“I—”
He steps nearer. “No argument.”
My heart skips like a stone across water. I swallow, knowing it’s a bad idea to participate in this very dangerous challenge of his. “I wasn’t going to argue.”
His dark brow arches. “Oh?”
“I was going to tell you that you’re not so bad yourself,” I say from low in my throat. “But I don’t want it to go to your head.”
Rafael throws his head back with a warm laugh. “Thanks for your relentless commitment to keeping me humble.” His words make me smile, but his eyes make my toes curl as his gaze inches downward. “It does look like a wing.”
My hand moves to my right thigh. His gaze sears my skin. Feeling about to combust from his attention, I face the lake. “Are we going to do this or what?”
I don’t wait for his answer as I rush for the water with a squeal, stopping where it laps at my feet. Rafael slows beside me. He shivers. “Cold?” I ask, glancing sidelong at him.
“No.” He shakes his head.
“Afraid?”
“A little.”
“I guess we’re both crossing something off our bucket list, then.” Taking a deep breath, I cross the water’s edge and wadeinto the lake, arms at my side. The sensation can only be described as having a paintbrush dipped in oil paint dragged across my flesh. It’s not unpleasant. It’s not familiar.
The water splashes as Rafael walks in after me, taking slow, tentative steps into the lake; he stops where the water reaches his knees, but I wade deeper into the lake until it covers my hips, then most of my chest. “There aren’t sharks in the lake, if that’s why you’re spooked,” I say over my shoulder.
He scowls, gliding through the water until he’s beside me, the water hugging his hips.
