Submitting in Vegas (Vegas Morellis 3) - Page 10

Can’t breathe, can’t breathe.

I finally look away from his face, turn my head, submit for the moment. I can’t play with him. I can’t help him feel better that way. It will ruin everything forever, and it isn’t worth it.

Clearing my throat, I search for a joke to tell to break the tension.

Before I can come up with one, the song ends. His hand is still on the small of my back, but his body shifts. I start to panic, trying to figure out how to explain to him—without explaining anything—that I cannot sleep with him to make him feel better, but he doesn’t try to escalate things. Instead, he tugs me into his chest and wraps his arms around me like the warmest, safest shelter in the whole world.

My whole being softens. My heart fills up, then overflows. I never really expected to know the feeling of being held in Rafe’s arms, and my brain is struggling to catch up with the fact that it’s actually happening.

He’s hugging me.

I’m too afraid to move, so I keep my arms awkwardly cradled in the shelter of his chest.

“Everything hurts,” he tells me, quietly.

Instantly, tears burn behind my eyes. They shouldn’t. No one hurt me this time, but his ache hurts my heart. I know he must be in immense pain, because I know Rafe, and this shit tonight is not him. He must really be hurting to fall down like this. I’m so angry at Cassandra, and I don’t even know if she did anything wrong. I don’t even care; she made him feel like this, and that’s enough to earn her a permanent spot on my shit list.

Tugging my arms away from his chest, I secure them around his body so there’s nothing between us, so I can hug him back. “I know, Rafe. I’m so sorry.”

“I’ve never felt this way before,” he states.

I squeeze a little tighter, burying my face in his chest. I don’t know what to say. As many things as I have stored away in my head, I don’t have anything for that. “What happened?” I ask instead.

“She left me for someone else.”

“What could he possibly have that you don’t? A unicorn?”

His chest shakes with light laughter, then settles. He’s quiet for a moment, then he says, “More power. He has more power.”

That’s it? Power? Who gives a fuck about that? I exist on the outskirts of his world, so I don’t know what to say. I realize power does matter in his world, but it shouldn’t—not to his woman, anyway. His woman should love him for who he is, not for what he has. Who gives a damn how much power anyone else has if you can have Rafe? I wouldn’t leave Rafe for total world domination, so what could this other chump have that would make it worth it to her?

God, what a dolt. Cassandra is the worst.

“I know this probably doesn’t help right now, but she is the queen of idiots. All other idiots bow to her enormous idiocy. There should be an idiot parade, and she could be on the featured float. We could wave and laugh at how dim-witted she is. Schadenfreude, plain and simple.”

He rubs my back a little absently, sighing. “Doesn’t really help. Thanks for trying, though.”

“Well, you know what? I’m going to tell you something a wise man once told me. You’ve been hurt before, and you survived. You’ll be sad for a while, then you’ll be okay, and eventually you’ll be with someone a hell of a lot better than her. Eventually, you’ll be glad she weeded herself out of your life.”

“Sounds like he was talking out of his ass,” he says lightly.

“Nope, he was right. I’m living proof. He found me sobbing in the corner over some loser, and look at me now, no fucks to give about whatever-his-name-was. That’ll be you someday. Cassandra who?”

“What’s in your box?” he asks.

I blink at his swift change of subject. “Excuse me?”

“You brought the paperwork folder, but you also brought a to-go box,” he says.

“Oh.” I pull out of his embrace, turning and grabbing the box off the dresser. Popping it open, I announce, “Cheesecake.”

His perfect lips curve up in amusement. “Cheesecake?”

I nod. “I figured you might need cheesecake.”

“That’s so wholesome,” he states. “Why didn’t you just bring me a pan of brownies you made for your church bake sale?”

Ignoring his ribbing, I state primly, “You prefer cheesecake to brownies. Next time I’ll make you a whole cheesecake, how’s that? Just no cocaine. Chumps who do drugs don’t get comfort cheesecake. It’s one or the other, you can’t have both.”

Tags: Sam Mariano Vegas Morellis Erotic
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