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“But you did.” He brushed his fingers over the back of her wrist, making the little silver bangles jingle. “What if I got you another? A whole stack. Would you sell them again?”
“I’m not a gold-digger,” she said stiffly.
“Then what are you? Tell me. Because I want you to be mine.Justmine.” When she moved her hand, he wrapped his fingers around it. “I didn’t know love could hurt until I met you. That longing could pierce like a knife. You’re the only woman who ever made me feel that way.”
“Rafe—I’mnota good person.”
“I don’t care.” He pressed her hand against his chest. His heart was pounding furiously. “Every time you’re near me, it’s like this. Why do you think that is?”
Her fingers curled, catching on his shirt collar. “I’m going to hurt you.”
“Then do it,” he growled. “Hurt me. Fuck me. Just don’t send me away.”
No. That trapped animal feeling was back, scrabbling at her insides. She could feel invisible scores that made it feel as if everything bad inside her were bleeding out.
“You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I know I make you feel something,” he said, watching her. “And I know it goes deeper than desire. I’ve seen the way you look at me. You want me, but you’re afraid.”
“No,” she whispered, and her hand trembled when he gave it a squeeze before bringing it to his mouth and dusting a kiss over her knuckles.
“Tell me what I can do to make it better.”
The words ripped at her. Because she had spoken almost exactly the same ones years and years ago, when Marco had left her at home to take care of a sick young Rafe while fucking off to Vegas. On a business trip with wine merchants, though she knew better. And when she had called up her mother, she had suggested pho and nuoc sam, which required ingredients she didn’t have.
“Just tell me what I can do to make it better,” she had said to him, nearly crying in frustration, and he had asked in a small little voice for some 7up and a kiss on the forehead.
My mom used to kiss me better but she doesn’t anymore.
Those eleven words had cut her open and flayed her heart. They were both alone, with mothers who couldn’t—or wouldn’t—understand what they needed. He didn’t know how to be the son his parents wanted, and she no longer knew how to be the perfect wife.
It was the first time that she had really seen him as a little person, rather than a piece of the scenery she was forced to awkwardly navigate around in this new and terrifying life. She had smoothed back his dark hair and gently kissed his face and when he smiled at her, she had gone to the kitchen to drink half a bottle of wine alone and cry.I’m so alone, she had thought.How can I have a family and still feel alone?And,Who’s going to take care ofme?
“What can I do to make you stop looking at me like that?” Rafe asked.
“Buy a time machine.” She blinked back tears. “Undo the last twenty years.”
“Hmm. Well, I can’t do that.” His eyes dropped to her mouth. “Why don’t you kiss me instead?”
Because I don’t want to, she nearly said, but apparently that wasn’t true, because when the words rose belatedly to her lips, they were already pressed against his.
He yanked her bodily to him with a growl, and her hip caught on the stick shift. She scrabbled against it, caught between him and the car as he reeled her in, until his grip on her waist was biting in so deeply beneath her ribs that it felt like she might be bruised.
“That’s it,” he growled softly. “I know how to take care ofyou.”
Oh God, she thought, before she simply stopped thinking.
Rafe kissed with a grasping enthusiasm that left her feeling weak. As if she might disappear entirely if he wasn’t quick enough, or thorough enough. As if he were the only thing anchoring her to existence. The stubble around his mouth stung but his lips were surprisingly soft and sweet. It bothered her that a man like this could taste sweet: a web spun of sugar, deception, and lies. Like one of those plants that lured in flies with the promise of ecstasy and then devoured them whole.
His tongue, chilled by the ice of his drink, stroked over hers with such patient intensity that she was soon gripping his shoulders, feeling as if she were melting.Devoured, she thought dizzily, trembling. It was getting harder and harder to remember why this was wrong.
He was breathing harder when she pulled away. They both were.
“We could have this forever,” he said. “And all you’d need to do is come away with me.”
The consequences of what they’d done were burning through her body in a torrent of hot fire. She could feel the insolent press of his erection against her hip.
“I came to you first,” he said, and when she shook her head with a sob, he smoothed the tears away. “I did. I was eighteen and you were beautiful. I wanted you then and I still do. But this time, I’m not going to hurt you. Look at me,” he said, gripping her chin gently. “It’s been ten years. I’ve written two entire books about all the things I want to do to you.”
