“I feel—I don’t know….”
“We… respond to each other, Colin. There’s a connection.” He presses his face into my neck and I shudder, my body wanting to move closer even as my itchy mind shies away. He breathes me in and his exhalation is warm on my neck.
I feel it. I do. But I don’t know what it means. I shake my head.
“I’m fucked up,” I mutter, turning away from him. “You’ll see.”
He chokes out a laugh. “I knew you were fucked up the moment I saw you.”
“Shit,” I mutter, sliding my arm over Rafe’s side and pressing closer to him. “What the hell are we doing?” My voice shakes and he squeezes me tight.
I want to go for the whiskey in the kitchen. Instead, I kiss the corner of Rafe’s mouth even though I don’t deserve it. Even though all I ever do is hurt people. He snakes his arm around my back and turns his head to chase my mouth. Kissing him feels as warm and intoxicating as the whiskey would.
“Come here, doll,” he says breathlessly, shifting me so I’m straddling his lap.
I choke. “God, don’t call me that.” That’s… what the fuck is that? Then I shiver. Rafe’s eyes are intense, but soft just for me.
“I can feel how much you like it,” he murmurs, pulling me closer. I shake my head. It’s… filthy. Embarrassing. “No?”
One palm skates up my spine under my shirt and I shudder hard. I shake my head again, but Rafe’s smile is knowing.
“Mmhmm,” he says, like he knows better. Which is irritating as hell, but also kind of hot. Damn it. I stop thinking about it when he presses his mouth to mine.
We kiss so slow it’s like melting together. My face and neck are hot, and my whole body is buzzing. Rafe strokes up and down my back, and I slide a hand down the back of his shirt, his skin warm under my fingers and slightly rough. He tips my head back and kisses my throat, and I press my hips into him.
“Fuck, Colin, I’m so hot for you, you don’t even know.”
I choke trying to get a breath in. I don’t know what kind of pheromones are coming off Rafe right now, but he’s got me tied up in knots with one sentence.
He lays kisses along my throat and sucks at my neck. I shiver every time he touches the place where my neck meets my shoulder.
“You like it here?” Rafe licks the spot he kissed and scrapes his teeth across my skin. My hips jerk forward and I nod frantically, grabbing at him.
“Where else?” he asks, tightening his hand on my throat. “What else do you like?”
All the breath leaves me, and I look away from him. I don’t want to stop to think about it because if I do, I’ll have to think about how I have no fucking clue what I like, really. Only what I don’t. And then I’ll have to think about how wrong everything went the last time I messed around with anyone like this. And I really, really don’t want to think about that.
“Tell me,” he says, voice intense. “I want to make you feel good.”
I shake my head, trying to banish the thoughts, and Rafe’s hand softens slightly in my hair. I kiss him again, but I can’t get back that mindless intoxication from a few minutes before. The one I could lose myself in.
“I want you to tell me what you like and what you don’t, okay?” Rafe’s expression is serious and I feel ridiculous. I shake my head and kiss him again in an attempt to shut him up.
“So you like kissing. Noted,” he says.
“Asshole.” I roll my eyes, but he just looks amused.
“Okay, so it’s hard for you to tell me what you like in bed.”
God, I just want him to stop fucking talking about it and do something. I can feel my face heat.
“All right,” he says. “I have some ideas. I just need to make sure that I’m not misinterpreting.”
“Misinterpreting what?”
Rafe looks almost uncertain for a moment.
“Come here,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “Put your hands on my shoulders and kiss me.”
I do, and I squeeze his shoulders, loving the strength of his muscles, the solidity of his frame.
“Closer,” Rafe says, and I press my chest to his, getting as close as I can while still kissing him. “Put your arms around my neck,” he murmurs against my lips, and I do, running my fingers through the hair at his nape. Rafe leaves one hand on my neck when he leans back against the couch, and when he looks at me this time, he’s nothing but confidence and certainty.
“I just had to make sure,” he murmurs. He looks me up and down. “Damn, that’s beautiful.”
“Uh, what?” I’m lost. And turned on. Why’d he stop?