Page 101 of Not Safe for Work

His phone buzzes on the table, and I already know who it is. Mostly, Rafe doesn’t answer anymore, or so I think. If she’s calling when I’m around, she must also be calling when I’m not. Is he talking to her then? What is he saying? This uncertainty is eating me alive.

He flips the phone over, frowns at the screen, and dismisses the call.

“Hannah again?” I ask, trying to keep my tone casual.

As far as I’m aware, he never calls her, and I guess that’s something, but I’m grasping at a house made of paper straws.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, shoving the phone in his pocket and leaning towards me. His leg presses against mine, his hand still on my knee. I’m not sure what doesn’t matter means, but I formulate a thousand possible variations, and I hate them all. “Where were we?” He drags his hand a bit higher, my skin tingling as his fingertips tease the edge of my skirt.

It also doesn’t matter what he is or isn’t saying to Hannah. I refuse to let it mean something. We’re having a physical relationship in a tropical paradise, and soon this will be over.

I ignore the painful twist in my stomach at that thought.

Rafe’s cheeks are flushed from the heat, and a trickle of sweat runs down the side of his neck. I track it with my eyes, wanting to lick it off his skin as it disappears under his collar. I should stop this right now, but I’m not ready to let go just yet.

“Are you done with that?” I ask, turning a pointed look at his beer, of which he’s drunk less than half. “We should probably get ourselves ready for the reception later.”

“It’s still hours away,” he replies with feigned innocence, but two can play this game.

“Okay, well, I’m going to go get started. If I’m finished before you return to the room, I guess that will be a shame for you.” I down the rest of my lemonade and stand up, heading for the path leading back to the hotel. It’s bordered by tall shrubs and trees forming a shaded canopy overhead.

A moment later, the thud of footsteps sounds behind me. A hand snakes up the back of my skirt and squeezes my ass while an arm snakes around my waist, tugging me against a big, warm body. A mouth presses to the curve of my throat with a growl.

“That better be you, Rafe,” I say.

He snorts as we check behind us to ensure no one else is following before we clasp hands and run for the coolness of the air-conditioned hotel.

A few minutes later, we burst into our room. Rafe slams the door and cups my face in my hands, kissing me deeply.

We back up one step at a time until I feel the cold edge of the dining table hit my thighs. Rafe lifts me up and sets me on the surface.

“We could do this in the shower,” I say as he sucks on the curve of my neck, his hand sliding under my shirt.

“After this,” he says as he leans me back, lying me flat. “This little yellow skirt has been teasing me all day.”

He tugs on my panties, sliding them down my legs and tossing them away. Then he leans over me, flattening his body to mine, his hips grinding between my thighs. I feel him maneuvering his zipper, and then a moment later, the press of his wide cock at my entrance.

He wraps his hands around my wrists and pins them over my head, staring me in the eyes.

“You’re amazing, Tris,” he says hoarsely as he slides into me slowly. “I’ve always known it, but these past few weeks have shown me just how amazing you are.”

I can barely speak over the knot in my throat and the intense look in his eyes. “You really thought that?” I ask.

“Absolutely.”

“You’re pretty amazing, too,” I breathe as he thrusts into me, and my back arches off the table. Maybe a part of me always knew it as well. His gaze meets mine, and it’s the first time I feel a discernible change in myself. A slow shedding of the past, revealing another version of the person I’ve been wanting to be for five years.

We’re still moving together, heat swirling in my stomach. He leans down to kiss me, his tongue driving into my mouth as his hips pump and he keeps my hands pinned in place. Our breaths tangle and my core clenches around him as he drives into me.

This is pure, raw heat, and when I look into his eyes, I feel… safe.

I’m not sure if I’m there yet. If I’m completely ready to let go, but Rafe is the first person who makes me feel like it’s possible.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The final days of the retreat pass in a blur of conference rooms, droning talks, and the occasional group activity. It’s clear after three weeks of late nights, too much partying, and many hours spent sitting in hard plastic chairs that everyone is feeling the effects, leaving us all with the deflated vitality of worn-out pillows.

It’s the day before they announce the training program recipients and the exec team has retreated to their whisky-soaked corner to make their decision while Lan, Gabrielle, Rafe, and I toast on the deck of a small luxury yacht as it bobs through the waves. Lan and Gabrielle still needed to collect on the prize they won on trivia night, and if you’d told me then that Rafe would be my plus-one for this excursion, I would never have believed it.