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"Ophelia?"
Ophelia had been in Rafe's bathroom for over twenty minutes, the shower emitting steam throughout the room though she still remained in her clothing. Her hair was damp, sticking up in all different directions, her hands placed on the marbled counter top as she took in her appearance.
Although physically, not much had changed, she could sense the Ophelia she once knew, was long gone.
Turning the taps off, ignoring the fact she was yet to be clean, she slipped out the dark wood door quietly, her eyes falling across the room towards Rafe, pacing around the other side of the room, biting at his index finger.
Why? He was on edge.
Every ounce of Rafe Cameron was itching to cause pain to John B Routledge. That, and the fact that he head lead Ophelia down a deep, dark path she would never get out of. As much as he hated to admit to it, truth was, Rafe absolutely loved watching Ophelia handle a gun.
It was electrifying.
Sweat clung to every inch of the Cameron boy, his sandy coloured hair a mess upon his forehead, though Ophelia hadn't minded one bit. In fact, she might have preferred this Rafe to the last - no slicked back hair or tight fitted polo's, not in comparison to the loose ones that fell off his torso.
Making her way over slowly, her hands immediately found way around the boys stomach, pulling him as close as humanly possible. It was as if she couldn't get close enough, her fingers clawing at the boys flushed skin.
Rafe inhaled sharply, letting his head fall backwards, shutting his eyes tightly at the warm sensation Ophelia had brought with her each and every single time she touched him. "Ophelia." He spoke again, this time quietly, the floorboards cracking underneath their bodies.
"Shh." Ophelia spoke quietly, pressing the palms of her hands against his torso. "You don't have to explain yourself to me, Rafe." Ophelia's lips pressed against the base of his neck, and then some.
Pursing his lips and remaining silent, Rafe let his eyes shut yet again, his heartbeat thumping through his chest and out his ears.
Ophelia, softly yet surely, ran her fingertips down towards the hem of Rafe's shorts, slipping her hand down the buttoned hem, earning a sudden gasp through Rafe's damp lips, his head snapping upright, though remaining still in his place.
Neither had said a word, Ophelia using the palm of her hand to send Rafe into a fit of pure euphoria, his vision becoming a blur, words getting stuck in the base of his throat.
