Page 115 of Break the Ice

“He told me he understood why I did it,” Rafe says. “But he was wrong about one thing. He was wrong about which son it was… wasn’t he?”

My natural inclination wins out over any urge to be discreet—I glance over at Colt almost accusatorily, curious to see his response.

The hardened grit that’s been on his face since he showed up dissolves. A flicker of humor that’s uncannily similar to Rafe on any given day passes through instead. “What do you think?”

“I think you showed up to the party that night to get revenge. But you didn’t plan on Marisse being in Hawk’s suite. You hit him with the bottle and then got the hell out of there.”

“Is that true?” I blurt out, straining my memory.

“I did you a favor. Both of you,” he says, looking over at me. “Hawk put something in your drink. Some kind of roofie. You were half out of it within minutes. You passed out before I even struck him.”

Rafe’s squeezes me closer to him. Enough that I feel a current of anger clenching through his muscled body. “Why didn’t the cameras capture you?”

“I was already in his suite. I was waiting for Beringer to leave. Then she showed up.”

“You wanted revenge on Hawk?”

“I wanted to prevent him from doing what he did to me. His feud with Dad ruined my life… my life’s passion. It was about to happen again. It was more than deserved.”

“And you knew Dad would think it was me. That he’d cover it up. You stood by and let him. You had to know I’d catch on and… do what I did.”

“Like I said, I did you a favor. Somebody had to take them out. They would’ve ruined your life like they did mine.”

He abandons us at the fire pit, his shovel propped up against a deck chair, and turns to head inside.

Rafe and I share in a glance. Both of us have been thrown for another loop.

“I’ve had dreams about that night more and more as weeks have gone by. To the point I was beginning to wonder if I saw you in the room,” I say with a shake of my head. “But it’s a blur. I thought it was just the whiskey.”

“It was the whiskey… and whatever he slipped into your drink. Sugar, it’s over, don’t you get it? It’s fucking over.”

Rafe plucks me up off the ground and gives me a spin. I clutch onto him by his biceps, my nails sinking into the bulging muscle. He swings me around a couple more times, making the both of us dizzy as we break into dark laughter that echoes in the still night air.

I’m lost in him in the same way, so tuned into Rafe, I’m eclipsed by him. His energy ensconces me. His hunger sets my pulse wild. His intensity overwhelms.

He sets me down and cups my chin. “But you still haven’t said the words.”

“And those would be?”

“You know which words I’m talking about.” He jerks my chin so that I’m drawn toward his lips. But he doesn’t kiss me. Not yet. “Three little words you denied me last time.”

“Rafe, you already know…”

“Tell me, Sugar.”

“I trust you,” I whisper, almost smiling.

His eyes glint. He almost smiles too. “You mean all I had to do was murder a couple people and you’d trust me? If I’d known, I’d have used it as an excuse to take out Morasca a long time ago.”

“What does that say about me?” I laugh.

“It says it’s damn near impossible to win you,” he says. “Which means I’m not about to fuck it up.”

I lean up into him. My lips press against his in what’s the start of a long, passionate kiss. Rafe clenches me within his arms. His tongue pushes its way into my mouth. I meet him with an eager lash of mine.

Rafe’s kiss makes me feel like I’m floating.

Heat burns through me. It’s like the heat from the fire pit has swallowed me up. My skin’s hot, my hands gripping Rafe’s arms.