“Alright,” he concedes with his hands upturned apologetically. I can’t tell if I imagine the genuine guilt in his voice or not. At least he isn’t laughing. “Alright. I’m an asshole. I get it.”
“You are,” I hiss, feeling my eyes burn ominously. Nothing I do keeps the tears at bay. They fall regardless. “You’re lucky you didn’t bleed to death. What the hell was that?”
“That?” He glances away, raking his hand through his hair. “Just boys being boys, bunny.”
“Stop calling me that!” My foot flies out, kicking the remnants of my plate across the room. I don’t know why I’m so angry. Why my breathing hitches as I take in the scarlet smears staining my sheets. Why the sight of his mocking, taunting smirk enrages me now more than ever. “You could have died.”
His expression falls flat, and he groans, using my bed as leverage to haul himself to his feet. “Come here—”
“Get off me!”
His arms go around my waist regardless, drawing me in. The firmness of his chest conforms to my body, and there is no escaping it. God, he’s too firm, encompassing me easily with his bulk.
“You saved my ass, bunny,” he murmurs. I’m alarmed to realize that his fingers are in my hair, stroking through the tangled strands. “I mean it.”
I glance up to find him staring down at me. He’s honest, even in his expressions. It’s so rare to someone who comes from a family where smiles are used to mask any unseemly emotion that might ruin the mood at the dinner table. Or obscure lies. Tears. A smile is a mere token in my world…
But he’s able to convey so much with only a frown.
In the face of such an expression, I feel brave enough to ask, “What did you mean last night? That I looked like you?”
He winces and turns his attention to his hip, flexing his injured leg. A grunt of approval resonates through his chest. “You stitched me up good, eh, rabbit?”
As if to keep me from asking more, his arms curve around me, making me a slave to his swaying, unsteady motions. In some sick way, they almost feel…comforting. At least until my gaze falls to his leg—and the pink thread holding him together—and I realize that the rocking is more a result of him fighting to stand at all than anything else.
“I bet that hurts,” I rasp.
“Like a bitch.” He runs a hand down the side of his thigh. “We could have picked a better color, though. Pink. That’s gonna leave a mark on my soul, bunny.”
“Don’t tell me Bonnie’s not a fan of the color,” I reply.
He laughs but raises an eyebrow as if he’s not sure why exactly he finds the response funny. “Who the fuck cares?” He sways again, letting his mouth brush the top of my scalp so that his words drip into my skull. “I don’t let her, or anyone, ride my dick longer than it takes to come. But…” I sense him hesitate. “Your boyfriend certainly seems like the clingy type. Five a.m. is a bit early for a wake-up text, bunny. Does the fucker ever sleep?”
My head swivels toward the living room. Even from here, I can hear that telltale ping. Sighing, Rafe lets me go, using the wall for support. As the seconds pass, his strength seems to return, enough that he can limp past me without assistance.
“Thank you,” he grits out, shooting a glance at the eggs still littering the floor. “I owe ya one, rabbit.”
“Wait.” I wring my hands together, unsure of why I just don’t let him go right now. He should. After all, what might happen to him next isn’t any of my concern. I wrestle with that logic, but in the end, it doesn’t make a difference. “Do you… Do you at least want something to eat first?”
Racing to the fridge before he can answer, I grab a pack of cheese from one of the shelves and blindly snatch a loaf of bread from the counter. Within minutes, I have two sloppily made sandwiches. When I finally look over my shoulder, I expect to find the front door swinging on its hinges, and Rafe long gone.
Instead, my gaze meets one of darkness, and I simply blurt out, “Whole or halves?”
He extends a hand streaked with dirt and blood. “Give me a whole one.”
I do, crossing the room on bare feet. He takes a bite while holding my gaze, and to his