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My boots and jacket were right where I'd left them, along with my purse. I crouched down, drying myself as best as i could first and then pulling on my boots and tossing my leather jacket over my shoulders. I just needed to get my stuff and leave.
"Are you ignoring me?" Rafe's voice came from behind me, sharp and annoyed. "Did I do something?"
The nerve. Like I'd ever admit that he'd pissed me off. I didn't even turn around, just shrugged and focused on adjusting the strap of my purse.
"Catalina." His tone dropped, almost demanding now.
I stood up and finally turned, brushing past him without saying a word. If he thought I was going to give him the satisfaction, he was dead wrong.
The party was winding down, most people already gone or passed out somewhere inside. The air was quieter now, but I could still hear him trailing behind me.
"Are you looking for Adriana?" he asked, his footsteps matching mine. "She told me to tell you she left with Lucas... and that I should take care of you. Or else she'd cut my head off."
I stopped walking for a second, his words sinking in. Of course, Adriana would dump this on him.
"I can take care of myself," I snapped, spinning on my heel and heading for the driveway.
He followed me anyway, his voice calm but insistent. "You can't drive like that."
I hated that he was right. I was soaked, my head was spinning from the alcohol, and there was no way I could get behind the wheel like this.
"I'll find someone else to drive me home," I muttered, but before I could even reach for my keys, he snatched my purse out of my hands.
"Rafe, give it back!" I tried grabbing it, but he just held it out of my reach, fishing through it until he found my keys.
"You're not driving," he said simply, his tone final.
I put up a fight, but it was useless. Somehow, we ended up in my car—me in the passenger seat, him behind the wheel. The silence between us was suffocating. I stared out of the window, refusing to even glance in his direction.
For a few minutes, he stayed quiet too, just driving. But then, of course, he couldn't help himself.
"I didn't sleep with her or anything," he said, his voice low. "We were just making out."
Just. The word made my blood boil, but I clenched my jaw and stayed quiet. Like it wasn't bad enough already, he had to downplay it?
He didn't push after that. The rest of the drive was tense, the silence heavy as the car hummed along the quiet streets.
When he finally pulled up in front of my house, I got out quickly, not sparing him a glance as he handed my keys back.
I turned toward the huge mansion.
"Catalina." His voice stopped me. "Please talk to me."
His voice sounded... different. Softer. A little desperate even. It made my stomach flip in a way I hated.
"Come with me," I said before I could stop myself.
He didn't hesitate, stepping toward me immediately, following me into the house.
I walked up the stairs to my room, not bothering to look back, but I knew he was still following me. I could hear his footsteps trailing behind me, steady and unrelenting. He didn't say a word, and I wasn't about to tell him to stop either. Thank God nobody was home.
When I reached my room, I pushed the door open and turned just enough to glance at him. "Sit on the bed," I said flatly, my voice cold enough to remind him that I was still mad. "Wait for me. I'm taking a shower."
Rafe tilted his head like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. Instead, he dropped onto the edge of my bed, pulling out his phone.
I shut the bathroom door behind me, twisting the lock for good measure. The frustration I'd felt all night clung to me like a second skin, and I needed this shower to wash it all away.
The water was scalding, just the way I liked it, and the steam quickly filled the room. I reached for my favorite vanilla body wash, the one that made my skin smell like dessert, and lathered it on slowly. I wanted to take my time.
As I rinsed off, I couldn't help but think about what I was doing. Was this a good idea? Probably not. But I was so over the constant back-and-forth tension between us. I wasn't about to give all of myself to him—that would be way too easy—but maybe...just a taste.
I stepped out of the shower, my skin warm and glowing. The bathroom smelled like vanilla, sweet and inviting. I reached for my favorite white lingerie, the one I kept tucked in the cupboard for special occasions, and slipped it on. It hugged me perfectly, highlighting every curve.
I let my wet hair fall naturally down my back, the damp strands cool against my skin, and threw on a little silk nightgown over the lingerie. Just enough to make him feel a little too lucky.
When I stepped back into the room, he was still sitting on the bed, his eyes glued to his phone. But as soon as he noticed me, his attention snapped away from the screen. His mouth opened like he was about to say something, but then it just hung there.
"Yeah, that's the best thing you can do if you don't want to piss me off even more," I teased, slowly walking toward him, my tone light but laced with challenge.
His eyes scanned me, lingering too long in places that made my skin tingle. "I'm sorry..." he murmured, his voice soft, almost unsure.
"Are you?" I asked, letting my voice drop to a whisper as I climbed onto his lap, straddling him. His hands hovered like he wasn't sure where to put them.
