The knife doesn’t disappear though. He doesn’t move. Neither of us do. His body still cages mine against the mattress. Our faces are so close I can feel the warmth of his breath. The tension in his body dissipates but his hand remains against my neck, the blade on my skin. The threat imminent enough that my throat dries even more.
My heart is trying to escape my chest and I can feel that his isn’t doing much better.
“For fucks sake, Liliana,” Rafaelle growls, his voice rough with sleep and irritation. “What the hell are you doing in my bedroom?”
“Could you please move the knife?” I ask, annoyance rippling through me.
He blinks looking down at me, heat in his expression. His smell clouds around me, making it difficult to think.
“Maybe I’ll use it,” he murmurs, shifting the blade closer to my skin.
Surprisingly, I’m not even scared. I wonder where my self-perseverative instincts have gone. Because even now, with a knife at my neck, all I can think about is his body pressed against mine. His legs straggling my hips. My eyes slide down his body. He’s not wearing any pants, only a pair of boxer briefs that make me want to rock my hips against him and slide my hands over the bare skin of his chest.
I drag my eyes back up to his and a blush heats my cheeks at his arched eyebrow. He can tell I was checking him out. Fuck. I remember his threat and grit my teeth.
“If you’re going to stab me, make it quick. Push the tip of the knife into the side of my neck and I’ll die instantly. There’ll be less blood on your sheets that way,” I say without thinking.
He stills for a second and I catch anger drifting in his eyes, coupled with amusement. The knife disappears and he exhales a harsh breath before leaning backwards on his haunches taking his weight and heat with him.
“How do you know that?” he asks after a second, his curiosity sharpening.
I sit up on the bed, grateful for the space between us. It gives me room to breathe. “I’ve been researching the best ways to kill you with your own knife.”
He rolls his eyes, completely unbothered.
“I took an anatomy class my first year of college,” I add. “Dropped it eventually, though. Turns out I don’t have the stomach for dead bodies. Or blood.”
Rafaelle chuckles dryly like I’ve said something funny. It never ceases to amaze me how something as simple as a smile transforms his entire face. But even through it, I can still see the traces of exhaustion. I suddenly feel bad for waking him.
“Why’d you drop out of college?” he mentions, surprising me.
“How do you know that?”
He doesn’t reply, eyes trailing over me with a look that sends a hot rush through me. I search for a distraction and come up with a defense.
“I’m taking online classes,” I say, unsure why I’m even telling him this. “For college. To finish what I started. Although I’ve missed a couple of classes since I’ve been here, I had three assignments due yesterday.”
His expression softens, “I’ll give you your laptop back. And your phone. You can attend your classes, do your homework and talk to whoever you need to talk to. Tell your mom you’re safe.”
My brows go down in confusion, “How do you know I won’t call the police?”
“You could, but we both know it wouldn’t help. No one can save you from me, Liliana.”
A shiver racks through me at those words. The room relapses into silence for a beat.
“You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here,” he states, not looking the least bit angry that I invaded his personal space, which puts me at ease.
“I came here for this,” I tell him, reaching for my notebook and raising it up in triumph.
He glances at it with a smirk, “You can have it, little siren.”
“You read it, didn’t you?”
“Don’t worry about that,” he yawns and the action is so soft and gentle that I feel my heart melt.
“When’s the last time you slept? You look exhausted,” I murmur.
He shrugs, running a hand over his face.
