Page 53 of Love Me in the Dark

His hands grip my hips, guiding my movements as I gyrate and roll against him. The intense kissing continues, our mouths locked together in an unspoken battle for dominance. Rafe’s fingers slide up my top, palming my tits through the fabric, and I can’t help the moan that escapes my throat.

“See how easy it is?” he murmurs, his hot breath ghosting over my cheek. “You want to feel my cock as much as I want to sink into your tight cunt.”

I hate that he’s right, that my body is betraying me by responding so eagerly to his touch. My thoughts are an angry whirlwind, but they’re drowned out by the sensations coursing through me.

Needing a better angle, I move my arms behind me so I can rest my palms on his knees. This makes it a lot easier to get exactly what I need.

“God,” I moan, squeezing my eyes closed.

He growls deep in his throat. “Don’t ruin this by calling out to someone who doesn’t exist. I’m the one giving you pleasure by letting you use my body as a fucking toy. Me.”

“Yes,” I agree on a moan.

“Say my name.”

“Ra—” Another moan steals my words.

Letting go of my hips, he pinches my nipple hard. It’s almost painful. Meanwhile, his other hand wraps around my throat, squeezing until I can barely breathe. “Say. My. Fucking. Name.” Each word is gruff.

“Rafe,” I cry as the pressure builds within me.

“Such a good girl,” he praises, letting go of my throat and nipple. Well, not completely, he just loosens his hold.

My movements become more frantic, desperate. Rafe keeps speaking dirty words and praise fuels the fire inside me until it finally consumes me, and I cry out as my orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave.

Rafe isn’t far behind, his body tensing beneath me as he reaches his own climax. It’s only when the haze of pleasure begins to clear that I realize the enormity of what just happened.

“Go get cleaned up,” Rafe orders, his voice cool and detached. “And put on some better clothes.”

I slide off his lap, breathless and shaken, my legs feeling like jelly beneath me. As much as I tell myself I hate him, I can’t deny the pull between us. It terrifies me, this power he has over me, and I feel trapped—not only by the situation but by the way he’s beginning to get under my skin.

The hot water from the shower washes away the remnants of our heated encounter, but it can’t cleanse the lingering shame and confusion. Using the same towel as earlier, I quickly dry myself off.

I search for my bag, but instead, a luxury shopping bag hangs from the door, its name printed in cursive gold letters. Inside, I find a deep burgundy dress and a toiletry bag filled with high-end makeup.

Rafe’s message is clear: I’m expected to look the part. And, of course, this part doesn’t come with underwear. I mentally curse him out, and for a brief moment, I contemplate fighting him onit. But then I decide not to. I refuse to let him know how much it bothers me that he’s dictating what I wear.

I slip into the dress, the silky fabric molding to my body and accentuating every curve. The plunging neckline and high slit leave me feeling exposed, the kind of sexy that borders on too much. My reflection stares back, unfamiliar and polished—a stranger crafted to fit into Rafe’s world.

The makeup takes time, each stroke deliberate. A smoky eye sharpens my gaze, the golden flecks in my hazel eyes glinting under the dramatic shadow. My lips, painted deep red, look bold and unyielding. It’s armor, I remind myself, something to hide behind.

I twist my hair into a loose chignon, a few strands falling softly around my face. The look is elegant but effortless, designed to match the dress without stealing attention. The stilettos add inches to my height, forcing my posture straighter, my chin higher.

When I step back, the transformation is complete. The dress clings like it was made for me, the heels and makeup finishing the picture. I don’t recognize the woman in the mirror.

And maybe that’s for the best.

It’s as if I’m preparing for battle, and in a way, I am—against Rafe, against my own desires, against the life I never asked for.

When I finally emerge from the bedroom, Rafe stands by the window, dressed in one of his immaculate suits. My breath catches at the sight of him: his hair neatly styled, the suit hugging his powerful frame, his gray eyes cold and calculating as they sweep over me. It’s like looking at a beautiful predator, and I can’t help but feel both drawn to him and afraid of what he’s capable of.

“Come here,” he commands, his voice low and steady. I obey, crossing the room to stand before him.

“We’re going to see my family, to inform them about the change in debt,” he explains. “You need to play your role perfectly.”

My heart races at the thought of meeting the rest of his dangerous family, but I swallow my fear and nod. Rafe’s gaze lingers on me for a moment before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a stunning collar made of delicate white gold links, a small pendant shaped like a wolf head, dangling from its center. It’s beautiful, but it’s still a collar—a symbol of his control over me.

“Turn around,” he orders, and I do as he says, feeling the cold metal settle against my skin as he fastens the collar around my neck. It’s a weighty reminder that, despite the spark between us, I’m not here by choice.