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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐏 𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐎 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐒 was the only thing filling the boys locker room as I stood. The tile was cold beneath my knees, even through Rafe's jacket, which he'd folded neatly for me. The small details.
My knees ached slightly, but not more than they usually did after moments like this. My blouse hung open, my bra twisted, one strap sliding off my shoulder.
Rafe leaned against the lockers like he owned them, belt half done, shirt still open and loose around his hips. His abs flexed with every breath, damp skin catching the light like he was sculpted for sin itself. The shadows hollowed under his cheekbones made him look almost cruel.
"You look like you just got ruined," he said, voice rough, amused.
"Which, technically, you did."
I scoffed, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "And you look like a guy who couldn't even wait till I was on a bed."
"I told you not to roll your eyes at me in front of people."
"And I told you to stop being such a dick."
He was in front of me before I could blink, grabbing my waist and pulling me in until I was pressed against his bare chest. Warm, expensive skin. His mouth hovered just over mine.
"I don't like being disrespected," he mumbled. "Especially not by you."
I looked up at him through my lashes, smiled sweetly, and rolled my eyes again. "Sorry, Rafey.
He hated that nickname. Or at least he acted like he hated it.
His mouth crashed into mine before I finished the sentence. It wasn't gentle. It almost never was. His hands slid under my skirt, gripping my thighs, bruising the skin as he lifted me onto the table behind us. His hips pressed between mine, and for a second, the world blurred. Just teeth and tongue and the heat of his palm against my inner thigh.
"You're going to be late," he murmured against my lips, but didn't stop kissing me.
I let my fingers slide up the sharp line of his jaw. "Then make it worth it."
He was about to answer when the intercom crackled overhead
"Catalina Delgado, please report to the principal's office. Catalina Delgado..."
We froze. His mouth still against mine. Our breath tangled in the heat between us.
I pulled back slowly. "Couldn't they wait a little longer?"
He sighed, forehead pressed to mine. "They're starting?"
"Looks like it."
I hopped down, fixing my blouse while Rafe finally began buttoning his shirt. He moved with irritating calm, like we weren't seconds from being questioned about a murder. I crossed the locker room and headed into the small adjoining bathroom, checking my reflection. Hair: fixable. Lipstick: gone, reapplied in one swipe. Blouse: rumpled, but buttoned now. I pulled his jacket over it for good measure, collar popped.
