Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Rafe

West: This is West. You and I need to talk.

Me: Wait, how did you get my number?

West: Emmy. But don’t change the topic.

Me (typed but deleted): It’s none of your fucking business. I’m trying to help your sister.

Me (actual reply instead): Fine. But not until after I finish helping your sister move.

West: Then a warning: Make her so much as shed one tear, and I’ll fucking destroy you.

Me: I’m not like that bastard who broke her heart. He’s on my shitlist, and I’m going to find him and teach him a lesson in fucking manners.

West: Wait, what?

Me: I’ll tell you about it later. For now, let’s just call a truce? For Abby’s sake?

West: I guess. But don’t expect me to smile and hug you anytime soon. I’m still pissed you hurt Emmy.

Me (typed but deleted): You can’t punish me for that more than I’m punishing myself.

Me (actual reply instead): thumbs up emoji

I t was three days after the dinner when I finally moved the last of Abby’s boxes from my truck into the garage and went looking for my wife.

Earlier, she’d looked exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes, and I hadn’t liked it. So I’d offered to finish with the boxes while she rested.

But as I went upstairs, I heard singing. Once I reached the landing, it was louder and coming from the hallway bathroom.

The bathroom with a mostly open door.

The shower was on, mingled with the singing, and the urge to peek inside and listen to Abby was strong.

No. She wasn’t really my wife, wasn’t mine to claim. No matter how much I’d like to shuck my clothes and climb into the hot water with her.

Just as I reached the door to shut it, the singing stopped, and Abby screamed.

Without thinking, I raced inside and drew back the shower curtain. “What’s wrong?”

“Spider! There! Kill it!”

Normally spiders and I had a rule—stay away from me and I left them alone.

But a big-ass spider crawled along the side of the tub, and Abby backed away and slipped.

I caught her, and her wet, naked ass pressed against my groin. She was so warm and soft and so very, very wet.

Before my gaze could look down, she shouted, “Rafe! Please, I’m terrified of spiders. Get rid of it.”

Her words broke the spell and snapped me back to the present. I helped her out of the shower, tossed a towel at her, and found the eight-legged creature chilling in the corner. It wasn’t a poisonous type, so I maneuvered it into my hands and cupped them together.

I turned, and Abby moved away. “You’re crazy.”

Unable to help myself, I thrust my cupped hands toward her. She screamed and promptly kicked me—right in the balls.

Grunting, I barely managed to keep the spider in my hands and crouched down, trying to breathe through the throbbing pain. “What the fuck, Abigail?”

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to kick you there. But what did you expect when you put that spider in my face? It was a reflex.”

I bit out, “Who the hell kicks spiders to get rid of them?”

“Usually it’s not because of spiders. It’s just a reflex from dealing with unwanted male attention.”

The pain in my balls eased a little as I registered her words. “Who the fuck have you been kicking away?”

She bit her lip, debating whether to answer me.

Cursing, I rose—slowly—and muttered, “I’ll be right back.”

Maybe some would think I was crazy, but I didn’t like killing spiders if I could help it. So I rushed to the balcony attached to my bedroom, put it down, and turned back around, only to find a towel-clad Abby standing in the doorway. “Why didn’t you just squish it?”

“Because spiders are useful and get rid of bugs. But that’s not important. Tell me who the hell couldn’t keep their hands to themselves, to the point you had to knee them in the balls?”

Irritation flared in her eyes, and I knew it wouldn’t take much more to provoke her temper. And yet, I couldn’t help but state, “Tell me, wife. Who dared try and lay a hand on you?”

Narrowing her eyes, she strode toward me. And despite only wearing a towel, she could’ve been a warrior marching toward battle, what with her head held high as anger glinted in her eyes.

The towel slipped a little, and she didn’t try to readjust it. For a split second, I willed for it to fall to the floor.

But then Abby poked my chest and had my full attention again as she said, “Don’t try to pull that possessive bullshit on me, Rafael. We’re not married, not really, and our bargain doesn’t mean you get to growl at me and demand anything.”

I leaned closer, until my face was only six inches from hers, close enough I could see the water trailing down her neck. What I wouldn’t give to be able to lick the droplets off, one by one, and nibble right where her shoulder met her neck.

Focus, Mendoza. I replied, “I promised to protect you, Abigail. And if there’s anyone local I need to tell to keep their fucking hands to themselves, I will. You’re mine to claim, at least for the next year.”

“I’m not yours beyond a piece of paper, any more than you are mine.”

I dared to raise a hand and trace her jaw. She sucked in a breath, and all the days of watching her and dreaming of her and desiring her came rushing back. Warning bells blared inside my head, but I ignored them. The heat and scent and full force of Abigail Wolfe—no, Abigail Mendoza —was too delicious to resist. “If you only knew, Abby. If you only knew.”

And then I leaned down and took her lips.

I half-expected her to knee me in the balls again, but she moaned, wrapped her arms around my neck, and pressed her soft body against me.

My restraint snapped, and I placed a possessive hand on her ass and another on the back of her neck, and thrust my tongue between her parted lips. She met me stroke for stroke, a hand in my hair and the other one snaking between us. When she stroked my hard dick through my jeans, I groaned and broke the kiss. “Abigail…”

“I wasn’t sure if you had recovered yet, but you have.” She squeezed me and I sucked in a breath. “Which means I don’t need this.”

She stepped back, and I released her. And in the next second, she tugged off the towel and tossed it aside.

Holy fuck. Abigail was naked and flushed and damp from her shower. Her breasts were the perfect handful, her dark pink nipples hard and jutting. Her hips flared out in that way that drove me crazy, soft and round, with her belly begging for me to kiss and lick and tease. Then I saw her neatly trimmed pussy, and I could think of nothing but wanting to taste her.

“Rafe?”

The uncertainty in her voice snapped my eyes back to hers. At the flash of insecurity in her gaze, I crossed the distance between us, took her face between my hands, and said, “I’m tired of resisting you, Abigail. You’re so fucking beautiful, and I want you. Tell me to stop, though, and I will.”

“Don’t stop, Rafael. Don’t you dare stop.”

With a growl, I kissed her again. Her arms went around my neck and mine went to her ass. I lifted, and she wrapped her legs around my waist. I held her close as I claimed her mouth, rocked her against my dick, and reveled in the way she moaned as I did it again.

I walked us to the bed and leaned over until her back hit the mattress. She tugged my shirt up, and I finally broke the kiss to stand up and strip off my clothes. The second her gaze shot to my erection, I let out a drop of precum.

When she licked her lips, I went to my knees, tugged her to the edge of the mattress, and spread her thighs. “I’m tasting you first, wife.”

I paused a second to see if she’d tell me to stop, but she merely widened her legs.

Never taking my gaze from hers, I lowered my head and licked her pussy.

The taste of her sweet honey triggered something inside me, something primal that needed to make her scream my name, and I lapped and nibbled and lightly fucked her with my tongue. She tried to buck, but I kept her hips in place, wanting her to do nothing but feel me devour her.