17
Isa
Joaquin left without a word, retreating quickly as if he didn't want to be around for what came next.
Rafe's gaze landed on my face, mesmerizing as he stepped closer to me. With the knife in his hand, he approached like a panther stalking his prey.
And I knew that my lesson had come to an end far quicker than I wanted.
He touched his palms to the back of my hand, stroking delicate fingers over the flesh and up to the skin of my forearm as he drew me to my feet. Goosebumps rose in response to his touch, the warm air kissing me in a gentle caress as he brought them to the surface. Taking my hand to the one that held the knife, he wrapped my fingers around the hilt until I held it firmly.
His hand touched my waist, dragging over the fabric of my dress and around me slowly until he stood behind me. Arousal glittered in his eyes as he stepped out of my line of sight, running his hands over the skin of my forearm as he positioned the blade in my grip the same way Joaquin had held it before he threw it.
“Everything has energy. The greatest fighters and soldiers are able tofeelthat and unlock the instinct that taps into it. If you can know ahead of time what your opponent will do, then you can predict how to block and defend yourself. The knife is just another part of that. Joaquin exerted energy when he threw it, and the air shifted to accommodate it.” I shook my head with a laugh, because what he talked about felt like something straight out of a training montage in a fantasy book.
It seemed too farfetched to be true.
He moved so suddenly I never would have seen it coming if I hadn’tfeltit. His hand left my hip, gliding away and in so smoothly that I only felt the light breeze on my skin before his hand clasped around the front of my throat and squeezed lightly.
He leaned forward, murmuring against my ear with a taunting lilt to his voice that raised the hair on my arms. My body reacted to it, my stomach clenching with desire as his forearm brushed against the front of my breast. “Did you feel that?” he asked, his breath warm against my neck and jaw.
“Yes,” I said, swallowing past the nerves in my throat. I would never be able to move so quickly or suddenly. Never be able to compete against a man like that. I’d always known Rafael was a nightmare carved into flesh.
But the reality of it and the way he moved never ceased to amaze me.
He raised my hand with the knife in it, shifting my grip from the hilt to the blade itself. The cool metal touched my skin, contrasting the gentle way he maneuvered me exactly where he wanted me to go. We twisted to face the biggest tree off to the side of the clearing, and he raised my arm slowly and positioned my elbow just so.
My elbow bent in his hold, pulling the knife back above my shoulder and beside my head, and then he guided me through the motions of throwing slowly as he pressed himself into my spine tightly. I was too distracted, too wrapped up in the sinful man tormenting me with just his body against mine, that I wouldn’t stand a chance of remembering anything he taught me.
I knew that was the point; this was his form of torture and the response to the delay I’d put on our sexual activities by insisting this needed to come first.
I should have known that Rafe would never tolerate such a thing, that the first task on his list would be to sink inside me after the abstinence. “Are you listening,mi reina?” he asked with a smile in his voice.
“Mhm,” I murmured, not trusting myself not to give away too much of how he affected me if I spoke more.
He hummed thoughtfully, guiding me through the motion of throwing again, but faster. “Release when your forearm is perpendicular to the ground. The forward momentum will guide the knife where you want it to go.” He positioned me back to the start, moving my arm up into the spot where the knife sat just next to my face.
Then he sprung, shoving my arm forward, and I did as he’d said, obeying the command even with my brain melting into a puddle that didn’t feel capable of functioning. The knife slid between my thumb and forefinger, letting loose and gliding into the tree line.
I didn’t hit the tree itself, but came close enough that I thought I would take it as a victory considering my lack of focus. “I don’t think you’re paying attention,” Rafael murmured, tsking playfully as the hand that had guided my arm dropped to my waist. He slid it up and over my ribs, cupping my breast in his hand and sliding his thumb over my nipple through my sports bra and tank top. “Just say the word and we can change activities,mi reina.”
“You’re an asshole,” I said, turning in his arms until I faced him. He stared down at me with all the triumph I knew he must feel in having me concede the day's lesson.
I’d seen enough, learned enough, to last me until tomorrow. “No disagreement there,” he said.
“Take me to bed,” I said, rolling my eyes and wrapping my arms around his neck.
“I have a better idea, my wife,” he returned, scooping me into his arms and guiding me to the blanket he had so thoughtfully laid out for me to sit on. He laid me on my back, laying his body over mine gently and taking extra care around my stomach. I was tempted to tell him that it wasn’t necessary, that the weight of my husband on me wouldn’t hurt the baby at this stage.
But the thoughtfulness of it was so at odds with the Rafael who had taken me off the streets of Ibiza, that I let myself bask in the gentle care instead of arguing.
He leaned back, staring down at me intently, then shifted his weight onto his elbow as a hand tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I bit my lip, turning my head to lean into the touch and wanting nothing more than to feel more of his skin on mine.
To remove all his clothes, until what remained was just our sweat slicked bodies beneath the Spanish sun.
His eyes hardened to cold fire, the blue seeming to glow as he pressed his lips to mine and ran his fingers through my hair. “Te amo, mi reina,” he murmured, leaving my lips in favor of trailing kisses down and over the column of my throat.
He left the tank top on, skimming his mouth and nose over my body through the fabric as he made his way down to my stomach. Flipping the shirt up to reveal my lower belly, his mouth touched it sweetly, and he murmured something softly while I stared at him and ran anxious fingers through the inky strands of his hair.