Out of Nowhere(48)

“Do you remember the first time you were attracted to a guy?” Rafe asks.

“I wasn’t—I didn’t realize that’s what it was until just now, I think. This guy Charlie. I dunno what happened to him either. When we went to high school, I kind of lost track of him.”

No. That’s not true. More like I started ignoring him and didn’t step in when I saw people messing with him

A familiar sinking feeling begins, like I’m slipping beneath the surface of something unfathomable, every moment I sit here pressing me farther into a blackness that I want to pull around myself and wrap up in until I can’t see or hear anything.

I bite my lip. I can’t let myself go to the place where I hate myself. I never know how to come back.

Then Rafe pulls me close and starts rubbing my scalp, kind of the way he pets Shelby. My skin prickles and my breath comes short. I squeeze my eyes shut so tight the room feels like it’s spinning.

“God, what are you doing?” I groan.

Rafe’s hand stills on my hair. “I’m sorry. I was just—”

“No! I mean, what the fuck are you doing here? What are you doing with me? Why do you even give a shit? Fuck!”

I curl in on myself, trying to contain the churning hurricane of fury, shame, and fear in my stomach, but I can’t. Liquor will melt me further into it, a razor snap me out of it—for a few minutes, anyway.

Rafe makes a choked sound and turns, going up on his knees and dragging me tight against him.

“You don’t feel this?” He presses his palm to my spine, my chest to his. The hurricane in my stomach settles a little as my heartbeat slows down to match the steady, calming thump of Rafe’s.

“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.”