I close my eyes. I let my head fall forward in absolute relief.
The heavy click of my bedroom door unlocking echoes loudly through the quiet space.
My eyes snap open.
The heavy thud of tactical boots echoes against the bedroom floorboards. The sound is aggressive, restless, and far too close.
Rafe.
He doesn’t knock. He doesn’t wait for his five minutes to expire.
I scramble to my feet. I smooth down the wrinkled silk of my dress and step out of the closet.
He steps inside and reaches behind him without breaking stride. His massive hand grabs the brass handle of my bedroom door.
He pushes it shut.
The latch clicks softly. The heavy thud severs us entirely from Nick and Jude out in the sitting room.
We are completely alone.
His golden eyes lock onto mine across the length of the room. The massive, imposing man dwarfs everything around him—my furniture, my space, the air itself.
Rafe takes a slow, measured step toward me. The predatory grace in his movement makes the hairs on my arms stand straight up.
“You smell different now,” he murmurs. His deep, gravelly voice vibrates through the floorboards.
I back up until my spine hits the doorframe of the closet. “I haven’t changed yet. You’re early.”
“I don’t care about the clothes.” He takes another step. He inhales a deep, ragged breath. “The panic is gone. You’re hiding something, Firebird.”
He crosses the final few feet between us.
He crowds into my space, his massive chest a wall of solid tactical armor caging me against the closet frame. The raw, heavy musk of his arousal is a physical weight, filling my lungs until I’m lightheaded. He doesn’t ask for permission. He’s stripped his tactical gloves, and his bare, calloused hand clamps around the nape of my neck in a bruising, territorial grip. I can see the dark ink of the tattoos winding down his wrists as he forces my gaze up to meet his golden, predatory stare.
His touch is primal, inevitable. The “gentleness” I expected is gone, replaced by a possessive strength that makes my knees buckle.
He leans down, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of my earlobe before he speaks.
“I can smell the fear coming off you, Firebird. But beneath that, I smell exactly how much your pussy is aching for me to corner you.” He leans in, his nose brushing the pulse point at my throat. “I’m going to rip this entire room apart until I find what you’re hiding. And once I have it, I’m going to use this mahogany door to pin you at the waist and remind you why you don’t lie to a man like me. By the time I’m done filling you with my seed, you won’t remember your own name, let alone where you hid your little secrets.”
4
RAFE
The air in the bedroom smells like expensive mistakes.
Rose. Dark amber. Pure, unadulterated panic.
She stands frozen against the wooden frame of the massive walk-in closet. The emerald silk of her dress clings to her lush curves. She tries to hide the rapid rise and fall of her chest. She fails.
I put exactly three feet of distance between us.
My heavy combat boots thud against the dark hardwood before sinking into the plush cream area rug. The softness disgusts me. This whole room is a velvet trap. Designed to make a man forget his job. Designed to make him lower his weapon and strip off his armor.
“Stay right there,” I order.
My voice sounds rough. It scrapes against the quiet walls of the bedroom.