I open my mouth, but no words come out. What am I supposed to say? That I understand? That I forgive him? That I have feelings for him too, even though every rational part of my brain is screaming at me to run?
He watches me for a moment longer, and then he leans forward and kisses me.
It's not aggressive or demanding. It's tentative, almost asking for permission, and I feel my defenses crumble. My hands come up to his shoulders, and instead of pushing him away, I pull him closer.
The kiss deepens, and I feel all the anger and hurt from last night dissolving into something softer. He shifts, moving onto the bed beside me, and his hand comes up to cup the back of my neck. I lean into the warmth of his body, and I let myself stop thinking about what's right or wrong or logical.
I just let myself feel.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, and I can feel his breath coming fast against my skin.
"I'm sorry," he whispers. "For last night. For all of this. I'm sorry."
I close my eyes and press my hands against his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath my palms. "I finished the November files," I say quietly. "I found a workaround for the encrypted backups. That's what I was trying to tell you last night."
He pulls back just enough to look at me, surprise flickering across his face. "You did?"
"Yes. We're ahead of schedule now. I can have everything done before Christmas."
He stares at me, and I see the relief wash over him. "Riley?—"
"But I need you to stop treating me like a prisoner," I say, cutting him off. "I know I can't leave. I know I'm in danger. But if you want me to keep working, you need to treat me like a partner, not a prisoner."
"You're right. I will."
"And you have to be honest with me. About everything."
He nods slowly. "Okay."
"And you have to trust me," I say, my voice shaking slightly. "You have to trust that I'm here because I choose to be."
His hand tightens on the back of my neck, and he looks at me with an intensity that makes my breath catch. "You choose to be here?"
I swallow hard. "Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I care about you," I say. "And I don't want to see you destroyed."
He kisses me like the apology wasn’t enough, like words are cheap and the only things that matter now are teeth and tongue and the way his hand fists in my hair hard enough to sting. I bite his bottom lip in retaliation and he growls, low and filthy, shoving me back onto the mattress so fast the air leaves my lungs.
“Still pissed at me?” he rasps against my mouth, knee nudging my thighs apart as he crawls over me.
“Yes,” I breathe, but my hands are already fisting in his hair, dragging him down so I can bite his lower lip hard enough to make him growl. “Make it up to me, Rafe."
Rafe’s eyes flash dark and hungry, and he kisses me again, tasting every corner of my mouth until I’m melting under him.
“I’m going to,” he murmurs against my lips in a rumble that vibrates right to my chest. “I’m going to make you feel so good you’ll forget you ever wanted to leave this bed.”
His fingers find the hem of my borrowed T-shirt and slide it up my torso, palms gliding over my ribs before he pulls it over my head and lets it drop to the floor. He pauses to look at me, bare except for my panties, and the reverence in his gaze makes heat pool low in my belly.
“Riley,” he says, almost reverently, “look at you. I don’t deserve you…"
“You’re gonna earn it,” I whisper, arching into his touch when he lowers his mouth to my collarbone, kissing a slow path down between my breasts while his hands cup and knead them gently.
My nipples tighten under his thumbs, and when he finally closes his lips around one, sucking softly, I arch off the bed with a broken moan. “God, yes, just like that,” I sigh, threading my fingers through his hair.
He hums against my skin, switching to the other breast, tongue swirling until my thighs are trembling and I’m aching for more. “Tell me what you want next,” he says, voice muffled against me. “I need to hear it.”
