I nod solemnly. “Even if they make me queen.”
He cracks a smile, but it’s a bittersweet one. He reaches a hand out and caresses the side of my face, even though we’re in the restaurant and anyone could see. Even though the water is muddy enough, and the last thing either of us needs is more stomping.
As hard as I’m trying to be mature and strong and weather this break-up like a pro, his hand on my face is too much, too soon, and I feel tears welling up. I already miss this.
“I hate making you cry,” he says quietly.
Dammit, that just makes me want to cry more. I force a smile instead, even if it’s a watery one. “I’m not crying.”
I no more than get that out, and a stupid, rebellious tear slips out of the corner of my eye and slides down my cheek. Since Rafe’s hand is right there, he sees it. He catches it on the pad of his thumb and brushes away the trail it left.
“I won’t make you cry anymore, I promise.”
Then he drops his hand, and I know he means well, but it makes me feel worse.
Maybe I should have stayed mad. This was so much easier when I was mad at him.
“I’ll be fine,” I assure him. “I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.” Glancing at his menu to let him know I’m ready to stop talking about this, I ask, “In the mood for anything in particular tonight?”
Rafe shakes his head, pushing the menu forward and leaning back in his seat. “Surprise me.”
I collect the menu, hug it against my chest, and offer him a smile as I slide out of the booth. “All right.”
I can’t sleep.
As sexy as it is to have his scent on my sheets right now, it’s impossible to keep from reliving those memories with such a strong trigger present. I suppose I could stop rolling over and breathing in the scent, but no one can accuse me of making consistently good decisions. I didn’t wear my bracelet at all today, I faced Rafe at dinner, I even stood up to him for firing a bartender out of blatant jealousy; I’ve made enough responsible choices for one day.
I deserve a night of wallowing, dammit.
I deserve a night of lying awake, surrounded by the scent of him, memories of his fingertips moving over my skin, his hand smacking my ass, his cock invading my body…
Dammit. I twist myself up in my covers, tossing restlessly. This is just making the heartache worse. I need to back up and start over. I need to do everything I can to ignore memories of Rafe in this bed.
Maybe I should sleep on the couch.
No, I don’t have the self-control to do that. I’ll stay here and be miserable. At least my misery smells like Rafe.
Sighing, I look up at the ceiling and wonder what time it is. I roll over and reach for my phone, lighting it up and seeing that it is 4:13am. God, I need to fall asleep.
I put the phone down and roll over, but when I do, my heart nearly stops. The dark silhouette of a man registers and adrenaline surges through my body. It’s not Rafe. I know Rafe’s shape by heart, and this isn’t it.
I try to roll out of bed, mentally searching the room for something to defend myself with. I need to grab my phone and hit him with something so I can get out of my bedroom. If I can get to the kitchen, I can get to my gun. I can call for help—probably Rafe, because he has guys who can clean up the mess. I’m pretty sure I can pull the trigger, but cleaning up a bloody corpse is going to be a hard no.
I don’t have a real weapon in my bedroom, but I do have a fairly heavy jewelry box on my dresser. If I can get it and get behind the intruder, I can crack him over the head. That should buy me enough time to get to the kitchen.
I spring out of bed and lunge for the jewelry box, but before I can grab it, strong arms lock around me and I catch a familiar scent. Not Rafe.
Sin?
“Put that fucking thing down,” he barks.
Instantly relieved, I sigh and sink against his chest. “Oh, my God, Sin. You scared the living fuck out of me.”
“Why?”
I put the jewelry box down and turn around in his arms, staring up at him in the moonlight. “What do you mean, why? A dark stranger shows up in my bedroom the same night Rafe gives me $35,000, what am I supposed to be, chill? I need that money out of my house. It’s taking years off my life. I’m obsessively worried someone is going to rob me now.”
Sin scowls, dropping his arms now that I know it’s him, and I’m not struggling. “Why did he give you $35,000?”