Page 39 of Protected from Malice (Blade and Arrow Shadow Team #1)

RAFE

Most days, I still can’t believe this is my life.

I never imagined anything close to it.

Not after the dark shit I’ve done and the blood I’ve spilled.

It was all in the interest of justice and protection, but I’m well aware many people wouldn’t see it like that. The police wouldn’t. The average person who lives a life untouched by violence, who’s never come face to face with true evil, probably wouldn’t agree with my unconventional methods.

They’d see me as a criminal. As a man no better than the ones he pursues.

But I must have done something right in all of it, because miraculously, Eden doesn’t see me that way.

Eden, the person who means more to me than anyone else in the world, thinks of me as a hero.

My hero , she calls me. Not a white knight, with gleaming armor and a steadfast determination to stay on the right side of the law. But a knight whose armor is scratched and dented and stained from the battles he’s endured. A knight who knows that sometimes the law isn’t enough.

Am I a hero?

I don’t know.

But if Eden thinks it, I’m not arguing with her. Not anymore.

It’s like what she said on one of our last days at the Refuge, as we sat out on the porch looking up at the stars.

I was feeling anxious about her going back to work, still haunted by the memories of her panicked phone call, of finding her hiding in the bathroom, sobbing in fear.

I was still feeling guilty that I hadn’t insisted on going into the lab with her instead of waiting outside in the car.

And my insecurities were flaring—me, who’s never felt insecure before—as I wondered if I was truly good enough for her.

“Are you sure?” I asked her.

I still can picture Eden’s face, so beautiful as the glow of the moon caught it. “Sure about what?”

“Living with me,” I explained. “Being with me. Knowing what I’ve done. You say it’s okay now, but what about in six months? A year? Will you change your mind?”

She turned to me and placed her soft hand on my cheek.

Then she got that thoughtful look—the one she always gets before she says something really smart or intuitive.

“Rafe. You are a good man. No. Not just good. You’re amazing.

You’re brave. You’re loyal. You’ll do anything to protect the people you care about.

None of that will change. Not in six months.

Not in a year. Not in five years. You’re a hero, Rafe. And more importantly, you’re my hero.”

A little off balance by everything she said, I grabbed hold of part of it. “Five years?”

Her blush was visible even in the darkness. “Too much?”

“No.” I hugged her to me, and in that moment, I swore to myself I’d do anything to keep her. “It’s not too much. Not even close.”

Five years? It doesn’t seem like enough.

I won’t ask her to marry me yet. It’s too soon for that. Not when it’s only been a month since Eden’s run-in with that fucker, Wilson. Not when she’s still going to weekly counseling sessions and I end up soothing her back to sleep after a nightmare more nights than not.

But one day, I will.

And if she says yes? I’ll spend my life proving she made the right decision.

I may have even started looking at rings, just so I’m ready.

Shit. Imagine that. Eden wearing my ring. No longer just my girlfriend, but my fiancée. And then later—but hopefully, not too much later—taking me as her husband.

Her husband .

Could I really be that lucky?

“Okay, I think I’m ready.” My head jerks up from my phone as Eden walks into the living room, immediately drawing my full attention.

“What do you think?” she asks, and gives a little spin.

Her skirt lifts to reveal another inch of her legs, lightly tanned and dusted with freckles from our frequent hikes.

My gaze lingers on her thighs as I reply, “You look gorgeous.”

“Rafe.” Amusement laces her voice. “Did you even look at the rest of the dress? Or my makeup? My hair?”

“Of course I did.” I get up from the couch and cross the room to meet her. I take her hands as I give her a full inspection, all the way from her bright pink toenails up to the adorable chestnut curls springing free of her bun. “You look gorgeous. Just like I said.”

“Is the dress too bright?” Her brows pinch as she looks down at the sundress she’s wearing.

It’s white with large pink flowers printed all over it, and it fits her perfectly, with narrow straps that accentuate her delicate collarbone and a slight V at the neckline that shows off a hint of shimmery cleavage.

“It’s technically summer, so I thought it would work. But once I looked in the mirror?—”

“It’s perfect.” I pull Eden into my arms and kiss her, tasting vanilla and mint on her lips. She leans into me, twining her arms around my neck and kissing me harder. Her breasts press temptingly against me.

I open my mouth for her, and she dips inside, caressing my tongue with hers. I’m happy to let her take the lead; not that I don’t enjoy doing it myself, but I think it’s important to hand over control whenever she wants.

As we keep kissing, I feel her nipples drawing into tight peaks. Her breath comes faster. Her nails scratch at my neck. A low moan works its way up her throat.

And fuck, is it the sexiest sound ever.

I love Eden like this. Not that I don’t love her all the time, but hearing the evidence of her desire, her arousal, knowing that this is an Eden no one else sees. This is my Eden—passionate, unrestrained, and so damn beautiful she literally takes my breath away.

When we finally break apart, both of us are breathing hard and Eden’s cheeks are pink. A few more curls have escaped her bun, surrounding her face like a halo. Her eyes darken to a deep sapphire as she gazes up at me. “Rafe,” she breathes. “What time do we have to be there again?”

It takes a second for my brain to shift gears.

Right. The party. At Indy’s new place.

“Five,” I tell her. A quick glance at my watch tells me it’s quarter past four. “So we’ve still got plenty of time.”

“Hmm.” Her attention drifts down to the very obvious erection straining the fabric of my pants. “So we have forty-five minutes; is what you’re saying?”

“Well. It’ll take us fifteen minutes to get there. So, more like half an hour. And I thought I might get gas on the way over, so?—”

Wait. Why the fuck am I talking about gas when Eden’s looking at me like that?

“Or,” I continue, “I could get gas another time. If you’re thinking…”

“Maybe?” Her eyebrows arch up. “If you want to?”

“Shit, Eden.” I draw her to me and kiss her again. “Do you even have to ask? I always want to make love to you. Always. I’d do it fifty times a day if I could.”

Her lips quirk. “Fifty? That seems like a lot.”

I arrange my features into an expression of mock offense. “Are you saying you don’t think I can manage it?”

Eden giggles. “Well. You are forty. I think I remember learning in my human sexuality course that once men hit forty, they?—”

“I know you’re not implying I’m old,” I interrupt. Then I scoop her into my arms and carry her towards the kitchen. As I walk, I ask, “Could an old man do this?”

“Probably not,” she admits with a laugh. “I don’t think most men could do this, period.”

Once we get into the kitchen, I set her on the island, then spread her legs and step between them. “Do you like it when I carry you around?”

I know she does. She told me after the first time I did it that she’d always fantasized about me sweeping her into my arms and carrying her to the bedroom, like something out of a scene from a romance movie. So, of course, I do it as often as I can.

“You know I do,” Eden replies. “And you know I’m just teasing. I don’t think you’re old. At all.” She pauses. “Although, fifty times might be too much for me. My lady parts might go on strike.”

“On strike? We wouldn’t want that.”

“No. We wouldn’t…” Eden trails off as I lift her skirt and cup the heat hidden beneath it. The satiny fabric of her panties is damp. As I trail my fingers across it, I can feel her opening for me. Inviting me in.

With my other hand, I palm her breast, flicking my thumb over her distended nipple. She gasps, and I lean in to swallow it. This time I take the lead, teasing her lips open and plunging inside.

Her hips jerk as I pull her panties off and slip one finger inside her. She’s wet. Hot. Silken soft. Her inner muscles quiver around me. She moans into my mouth.

As I add a second finger to the first, I say, “I thought this would keep your dress looking nice. Making love to you here.” I drag her to the edge of the island and adjust her skirt around her hips. “We’ll have to be fast. Is that okay with you?”

She squeezes my fingers; the same move that drives me absolutely crazy when I’m inside her. “Fast is okay.” Her gaze heats. “I like fast sometimes. It’s—oh. Oh .”

Eden’s head falls back as I curve my fingers to hit that magical spot. The spot she insisted was a physiological myth until I proved her wrong.

I unfasten my pants and yank down the zipper, freeing myself. I’m hard as a rock. Slick with arousal. Throbbing with need. While I love making love to Eden slowly, peeling off our clothes one piece at a time in a tantalizing tease, this is incredible, too.

Fuck. Making love to Eden is incredible no matter how and where it happens. Slow. Fast. In the bedroom. In the kitchen. In the shower, with the water sluicing down Eden’s perfect body and slicking her skin.

“Rafe.” She reaches between us and wraps her hand around me. “I really like this. In the kitchen, I mean. On the counter. It’s… I don’t know. I just like it. A lot.”

“Good.” I bend my head to kiss the sensitive skin at the base of her jaw. She arches towards me even as her head falls back even further. Her hips push against my fingers.