Page 13 of Disciplined: His Forbidden Crush

Rafael’s fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles turning white as he fought to retain control. He could feel the heat of Summer’s body, inches from his own, and it took every ounce of willpower not to close the distance between them.

“Or maybe you’d like to hear about the nights when I just can’t get enough,” Summer continued, his voice sticky sweet. “When I leave my door open and post on Grindr for any man to come and fuck me senseless, one after the other until I’m nothing more than a quivering, come-soaked mess.”

Rafael felt sick to his stomach, disgust and desire churning inside him. The way Summer reveled in his debauchery, how he seemed to take pleasure in watching Rafael’s rage rise, it was almost too much for him to bear.

“Shut the fuck up!” he roared, finally snapping. He grabbed Summer’s face, covering his mouth with his rough palm, silencing the filthy words pouring from those sinful lips.

Summer snarled against Rafael’s hand and attempted to bite him, his fists pummeling at Rafael’s chest. In response, Rafael hoisted Summer up off the ground, gripping him tightly in his arms as he dragged him towards the bedroom.

His steps were heavy and deliberate, his anger palpable in the way he manhandled Summer’s slender body. Summer struggled against him, but Rafael’s grip was unyielding, his strength overpowering any resistance.

Summer screamed against his hand, but Rafael didn’t relent, shoving him into the bedroom with a forceful push.

He threw Summer onto the floor, his anger fueling his strength. He pinned Summer down with his knees. Summer spat and cursed like a wildcat, his eyes blazing.

“Fuck you,” Summer snarled, attempting to buck Rafael off of him.

“Enough!” Rafael growled, grabbing the sheet from the bed. He quickly wrapped it around Summer’s body, tying it to immobilizing Summer’s arms and legs. Once Summer was trussed up, Rafael yanked a pillowcase free and used it to gag his victim. He couldn’t stand to hear another filthy word come out of that mouth. He tried not to notice how soft Summer’s skin felt against his calloused fingers.

When he was done, he sat back, breathing hard, and watched Summer writhe helplessly on the floor. Rafael’s chest heaved, sweat beading on his forehead as he struggled to regain control over his emotions.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. It dawned on him that Summer had deliberately pushed him into losing his temper. He realized that probably none of the things Summer had said were true at all. The thought made his stomach churn with a mix of relief and lingering anger.

Never again, he vowed to himself, determined not to let Summer goad him this way. He stared at the beautiful, bound figure before him, feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion wash over him. Instilling obedience and respect into Summer seemed like an insurmountable task, one that would test every ounce of his patience and self-control.

He knew he couldn’t afford to falter, not when so much was at stake. As he sat there, watching Summer struggle to get free, he told himself he could do this. Teach him respect, he thought, his dark eyes never leaving Summer’s flushed face. For both our sakes.

Chapter Six

Summer’s glare burned into Rafael as he sat tied to the chair in his own kitchen. His cheeks flushed with indignation, remembering how easily Rafael had subdued him. The humiliation of it all still stung sharply in Summer’s chest. And as if that wasn’t enough, Rafael had dared to leave the apartment only to return with a length of rope to bind him more efficiently.

“Are you going to be a good boy for me?” Rafael asked, his voice low and menacing.

Summer couldn’t reply through the gag, but his eyes spoke volumes. They screamed defiance and promised revenge. He would not forget this treatment. I am a Garcia, he thought furiously. I’ll have my revenge. You just wait.

Rafael seemed unfazed by his glare, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Prison really had changed Rafael; it had turned him into a bastard with a cruel streak. And Summer hated him for it.

“Did you really do all those things with men you said you did?” Rafael questioned, his dark eyes searching Summer’s face.

Heat crept up Summer’s neck. In reality, he had never done anything with a man, not even shared a simple kiss. But he nodded vigorously, putting on a show of being the most debauched gay slut possible, hoping to offend Rafael as much as he could. As he saw the anger flare in Rafael’s eyes, Summer sizzled with a twisted sense of satisfaction. At least he could still get under Rafael’s skin.

Tied to the chair, Summer’s eyes followed Rafael as he moved about the kitchen, unpacking groceries with an infuriating air of nonchalance. It was as if he owned the place, and it only fueled Summer’s simmering indignation. He watched, powerless and gagged, as Rafael prepared coffee in the olleta as if he lived here.

“God, you wouldn’t believe how shit the coffee was in prison,” Rafael remarked, almost casually. The way he said it made Summer pause, his anger momentarily replaced by curiosity. How bad had prison truly been for Rafael? Despite his resentment, a pang of sympathy welled up in him. However, it was quickly overshadowed by Rafael’s next comment— “Gringos can’t make a decent fucking cup of coffee to save their lives,”—which grated on Summer’s nerves.

If you hate gringos so much, why don’t you go home? he thought in annoyance.

He watched, somewhat surprised, as Rafael turned to cooking. He seemed remarkably competent in the kitchen, which was not something Summer would have guessed about him.

Rafael prepared arepas from scratch, mixing the cornmeal dough with care before forming it into round patties. The sizzling sound of chicken frying in the pan filled the room, accompanied by the mouth-watering aroma of spices and garlic.

Summer watched, a knot of conflicting emotions twisting in his gut, as Rafael deftly chopped an avocado on the kitchen counter. Rafael’s movements were sure and practiced, his muscular forearms flexing with each slice of the knife. He had taken off his jacket, and his arms were bare. Despite himself, Summer found his gaze lingering, drinking in the sight of Rafael’s tanned skin and the intricate tribal tattoos that sleeved both his arms.

“You know, in prison, we didn’t get avocados,” Rafael said, not looking up from his task. “Hell, we were lucky if we got any kind of fresh fruit or veg.”

He paused, dark eyes flickering up to meet Summer’s gaze for a moment before returning to the avocado. “One time, this dumbass Voigt tried to shiv me over a bruised apple.” A harsh bark of laughter escaped Rafael’s lips. “Can you believe that? A fucking apple?”

Summer grunted in what Rafael seemed to take for agreement of some kind.

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