of thankfulness.
He smiles then.
And so do I.
SIXTEEN
One week later
I DON’T think it’s too much to ask for you to wear a shirt when you’re walking around the house,” I say with my hands on my hips.
Like seriously, there is only so much I can take.
“No one’s even here, what’s the fuckin’ problem?” he asks, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water.
“I’m here,” I point out.
He closes the fridge and steps closer to me, cornering me against the countertop. “What’s the problem, Bailey?”
I swallow. “N-nothing is the problem. You don’t see me walking around half-naked. It’s common courtesy!”
He opens the bottle and takes a sip. All I can do is stare at his throat, his ripped arms, and his chest as I wait for him to continue.
“It’s not like I’m walking around without any pants on,” he says after he swallows a mouthful and puts the lid back on.
No, he’s wearing pants.
Jeans, in fact.
Jeans that should be freaking illegal.
Low on his hips, the top button undone.
“Rake, I . . .”
He lowers his head. “Bailey, what’s the real problem here? Are you as turned on as I am? Because I’ve been walking around hard ever since I fuckin’ saw you again, so if I have to suffer, then so do you.”
“Wait . . . what?” I groan. “Pretty sure we had a silent rule not to bring shit like that up around each other.”
Rake exhales, then moves close enough to bury his face in my hair. “Fuck, Bailey. Do you think it’s easy for me to see you after everything we had and not be able to touch you? I want to fuck you, punish you, and worship you at the same time. I want to make you hurt; I want to take away your pain. I want you to feel what I felt when I lost you, and I want to save you, all at the same time.”
“Do you think I wasn’t hurting, too?” I breathe, looking deep into the depths of his green gaze. “You destroyed me. You broke me.”
“You’re the one who cheated, Bailey,” he grits out, voice hoarse. “I would have stayed faithful to you until the day I died.”
I shouldn’t take his words; I should call him out on the truth right now, but I don’t. Maybe it makes me a coward, I don’t know, but I do know that when everything comes out, it’s going to be worse than it is now. Rake will go from hating me to hating himself, and maybe I’m a sucker, maybe I love him more than I love myself, because I think I’d prefer that he hated me. Does that make me weak? Or strong? I don’t know. He needs to know the truth, I know. There is no right time or right way to say this though, but it does need to be said. It’s long overdue.
“So would have I,” I say with such bitterness that he tilts his head and searches my eyes. “I thought we said we wouldn’t touch the past.”
His abs touch my stomach. His lips move close to mine but not touching.
His eyes still search.
I don’t know what they’re looking for, or whether he will find it.
He closes the space between us, his lips pressing over mine. I want him to kiss me deeply, like he used to, but he doesn’t, and I know it’s because he’s waiting for my permission. I give it to him by sucking on his lower lip. After that, all bets are off.
He picks me up and sits me on the counter, while his tongue slips inside my mouth. He kisses me like I’ve never been kissed before, filled with such intensity and passion, but it’s almost as if I can still taste that hint of regret and bitterness.
I ignore it.
Reaching up, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer.
I feel him; I taste him; I remember him.
My right hand slides down his back, feeling the muscles there. I stop just above his ass but then let my fingers roam over that too, squeezing his tight globes. Rake starts to kiss down my jawline and then my neck. When he hits that spot, I’m ready to beg him to fuck me right here, right now. But I don’t. Because I don’t know how I will feel about it afterward.
“Rake,” I whisper.
“Wait,” he murmurs, continuing to kiss across my collarbone.
I close my eyes, feeling not thinking, and when he pulls down my bra and sucks