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“I wasn’t pleading.” She tried to snarl but it came out too high-pitched and strangled. She could feel him through her underwear, nudging against that thin scrap of lace. He pinched her when she shied from him, making her gasp, “Rafe! Stop screwing around and let me go.”
His bristled mouth trailed up to her ear. “I was thinking,” he whispered. “If you’d taken me to bed ten years ago like I wanted and I fucked you every night since then, I’d have had you over three thousand times by now. Imagine that. How good it would be. I’d blow your fucking mind.”
Her mind grayed out. She stared ahead, unable to fathom the dark seduction of his words. Nobody had ever spoken to her this way: possessive and controlling, but still centered on pleasure.Herpleasure. Rafe had said he had gone to clubs, that he had paid towatch. Apparently that had been instructional in more than one regard, she thought dazedly, with a small shiver.
His hand had left her breast. He was tugging at her underwear—not from the waist, but the leg. It ripped with a lashing sting that mirrored the ache of him sliding into her from behind while she was still so tender. At her harsh cry, he slid his hand down her waistband. But his rough fingers rasping over her raw and sensitive clit made everything painfully intense.
“No,” she choked out hoarsely. “Stop. Stop!”
Rafe paused before sliding his hand out. She felt a dull ache when he withdrew from her thighs. She could feel his breathing at her neck, fast and uneven. More animal than man.Here it comes, she thought, bracing herself for—something, she wasn’t sure. An image of a devil flashed into her mind for some reason, warped and distorted, making her irrationally fearful.
“Get your lipstick.”
Donni blinked. “What?”
“Your lipstick,” he bit out. “Get it and bring it here.”
She was confused, until she came back to find the sheets kicked off and him stroking himself. Then she understood. She glossed her lips and crawled to him, and that wildness inside her surged when he gathered her hair and pushed her down by the back of her neck, until his shaft was smeared with candy-apple streaks and his fingers were clawing at the mattress.
He didn’t stop her when she ran to bathroom afterwards, unable to meet her own eye as she scrubbed herself off before removing her smeared lipstick with soap. She applied some tinted moisturizer and lip balm, before working some eye cream into the bags under her eyes. She hadn’t thought to put any hair products in her purse, so she tied her hair into a very dry and messy ponytail, after slicking it back with water.
Whore, her reflection whispered.
By the time she had gotten changed into her jeans and tank top, she felt almost human again. Human enough to be ashamed by her urges and the knowledge of what she’d done. She hadn’t been this out of control since her early twenties, when she’d been fresh from Johnathan’s clutches and willing to do anything and everything that would help her forget.
Rafe’s allusion toAngels of VICEhad disturbed her. The show was so obscure that even she sometimes forgot it had existed, and she hadbeenin it.
Once more, she found herself wondering if he could be the man behind all of this. He had sounded genuinely upset when the dog had lunged towards her—but had that been out of fear? Or because the situation had suddenly left his control? Ten years, he’d been waiting for her. Instead of fucking her every day, as he’d claimed to want, he could have become a master of revenge.
Because if he was right, and it was related to her body of work, then this had to be personal. And she couldn’t really think of anyone she’d hurt enough to make them hate her in this way. She wasn’t famous enough to tread on people’s toes or cause career jealousy, and she rigorously employed the use of the block button to deter creeps online before things progressed too far. The only other person apart from Rafe who could possibly want revenge was Johnathan Steel—and he was dead.
When she left the bathroom, Rafe had his pants back on and was buttoning a chambray shirt up over a drab vee-neck that matched his eyes. She wondered if her lipstick was still smeared all over him. That thought shouldn’t have thrilled her, but it did a little.
He looked up as she came in, lowering his hands to his sides. She noticed the expensive watch had made a reappearance. “There’s a business card on the nightstand,” he said. “It’s the lawyer I picked out for you. They specialize in estate law. In the meantime, I thought we could get breakfast, clean up the house, maybe go through some of my dad’s old papers.”
“I’m surprised you want to involve yourself.”
“Maybe it’ll be good inspiration for my book.”
His arch tone dared her to ask what else might be inspiring him. Donni folded her arms and didn’t rise to the bait, although her eyes did flick involuntarily to his jeans.
“This was a mistake,” she sighed.
She heard, rather than saw, him stiffen. “What?”
“I’m not sure if it’s a good idea, being seen spending so much time with you.”
Rafe looked annoyed. “You were nearly killed last night due to police incompetence. Nobody’s going to think there’s anything strange about you spending the night elsewhere.”
“You didn’t see the way the cops were looking at us.”
“If you’re talking about Corcoran, it’s probably because she was imagining taking me for a joy ride herself,” he said coolly. “She could barely look me in the eye.”
Donni crammed the business card into her jeans. “You’re disgusting.” She felt his amusement as she bent to her dog’s crate and carefully hooked her lead to her collar. The idea of leaving her here in the motel room, alone, was unacceptable.
“I might believe that if you didn’t just finish sucking me off like you couldn’t get enough of me.”
Donni stiffened. “Stop it. No one can know about this. Do you understand?”
