Bound By Lies - Rafe Cameron

Chapter 68

Two weeks have passed since that horrible night at Tannyhill, since Barry was dragged away in handcuffs, cursing and shouting as the police threw him into the back of a squad car. Two weeks since Rafe stepped in front of me and took a bullet meant to end my life.

And now here we are. The house is quiet and still, the early morning light streaming softly through the bedroom windows. The scent of freshly made blueberry pancakes fills the air, mingling with the aroma of dark coffee and sweet orange juice.

I carefully balance the tray as I push open the door to Rafe's room. He's propped up against a mountain of pillows, the soft white sheets pulled loosely around his waist, his bare chest still covered with the faint bruises and bandages from his injury. But the color has returned to his cheeks, his eyes are clear and alert, and when he turns to look at me, a lazy smile curves on his lips.

"Morning, sleepyhead," I murmur softly, my own lips lifting into a smile as I step closer, setting the tray on the bedside table. "I thought I'd treat you to something special today."

His eyes brighten, and he lets out a soft, appreciative laugh. "You've been treating me special for two weeks now," he murmurs, his voice low and rough from sleep. He shifts slightly, wincing as the movement pulls at his shoulder, but his smile never falters. "I might get used to this, you know."

"Good," I whisper, leaning in to brush a soft kiss against his cheek, savoring the warmth of his skin beneath my lips. "That's the point."

He turns his head just as I pull away, his lips catching mine in a quick, sweet kiss that leaves me breathless. "Fuck, baby." he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine. "You taste better than the pancakes."

I roll my eyes, gently smacking his arm as I pull back, grinning. "Well, considering I spent all morning making those, I think you should at least try them before you start making comparisons."

He chuckles softly, reaching out to grab my hand and pull me closer. "I'm just saying," he murmurs, his gaze locking onto mine with that familiar intensity that always makes my heart skip a beat. "You've been spoiling me so much, Teresa. Fresh pancakes, freshly squeezed orange juice, breakfast in bed every day... I could get used to this."

There's a teasing lilt to his voice, but beneath it, I hear something deeper—something softer. Gratitude, maybe. Relief. Like he still can't quite believe that I'm here, that I haven't walked away after everything that happened.

"Maybe I like spoiling you," I whisper softly, my thumb brushing over his knuckles as I hold his hand. "Maybe I like taking care of you."

His smile softens, and he lifts our joined hands, pressing a kiss to my fingertips. "I don't deserve you," he murmurs quietly, his voice low and serious. "Not after everything I put you through."

I shake my head, squeezing his hand gently. "That's not true, Rafe," I whisper, my voice trembling slightly. "You deserve all of this. And more. You... you risked your life for me. You've done so much—"

"Stop," he interrupts gently, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand. "I did what anyone would have done for the person they love. I don't want you to keep feeling like you have to make up for anything."

I swallow hard, blinking back the sudden sting of tears. "It's not about making up for anything," I whisper, my gaze locking onto his. "It's about showing you how much I care. How much I love you."

His expression softens, and he leans forward, brushing his lips against mine in a soft, lingering kiss that makes my heart flutter wildly in my chest. "I love you too," he murmurs against my lips, his voice rough with emotion. "So much, Teresa. You have no idea."