Page 40 of Disciplined: His Forbidden Crush

“Rafael,” Summer whispered between kisses, his breath hitching with every touch of their lips. “Is this just because I patched you up?” He tried to make it sound like a joke, but there was an underlying insecurity in his voice that made Rafael’s heart ache.

“Of course,” Rafael replied with a grin, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’m just grateful for the first aid.” It was clear from his tone, however, that he didn’t mean it.

“Good,” Summer said, his mouth curving into a smile even as he leaned in to claim another kiss. It was so close to the fantasy he’d had of Rafael, of hearing Rafael tell him he loved him, that Summer let himself fall back into that fantasy.

Maybe it could be real, one day. Summer let himself wish for it, even as he knew he shouldn’t. He kissed Rafael again and told himself it could be real.

Chapter Sixteen

Rafael grimaced as he hunched shirtless over the bathroom sink, wincing at the pain radiating from his bruised kidneys. He couldn’t help but think how foolish it had been to get ambushed by Voigt. The man’s grudge against him hadn’t faded in the slightest since their time in prison, and now Rafael was paying the price.

“Fuck,” he grunted, studying his reflection in the mirror. His lip was swollen, one cheekbone purpling with a deep bruise. Purple blotches bloomed on his ribs. But as much as it hurt, Rafael knew he’d had worse; prison had been a hell of a lot more unforgiving.

He washed his knuckles carefully, the cold water stinging his torn skin. The memory of Summer tending to his wounds came to him, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of warmth that had enveloped him in that moment.

He hadn't experienced such tenderness from anyone, not since he was a child. Even then, his mother had been a brusque woman who showed her love roughly, nothing like the delicate care Summer had given him.

The distance between his mother’s rough love and Summer’s gentle touch felt important. Rafael had never expected anyone to treat him so gently. That gentleness was for women, wasn’t it? He hadn’t thought he deserved it. Rafael wondered how Summer could possibly find it in him to be so soft to someone like Rafael.

He leaned against the edge of the sink thinking back to the moment he’d kissed Summer. The taste of Summer’s lips still lingered on his own. It had been impossible not to kiss Summer right then, like Rafael had been compelled.

Emotion swelled in his chest, a warmth that was foreign yet comforting. An overwhelming sense of protectiveness for Summer came over him. Summer’s vivid green eyes, framed by those dark lashes, held a depth that Rafael found himself lost in; his long auburn hair seemed to glow like embers in the afternoon sunlight, and Rafael ached to run his fingers through those silky strands again.

Rafael breathed out, realizing just how deep in trouble he was.

Whatever this was stood in stark contrast to his past encounters with men. They’d been nothing more than quick and dirty hookups, brief moments of guilty pleasure taken in the shadows of back alleys or hotel rooms that charged by the hour. There was no emotional investment in those fleeting connections, just the satisfaction of a physical urge.

But with Summer...oh, how different it was. Every touch, every stolen glance felt charged with meaning, as though they were building something greater than Rafael had ever expected. Some kind of future. Something to protect. Something to fight for.

As he stared at his reflection, he wondered if such a future was even possible. Could they really escape the life they’d been born into, the world of violence and power that seemed to consume everything in its path?

Rafael swallowed and stepped out into the living room.

He found Summer sprawled on the couch with the issue of Cromos Rafael had brought with him from Colombia open in his lap. The sight made Rafael’s chest ache in a way he hadn’t experienced before, as he took in the long lines of Summer’s body, the curve of his neck, and the sweep of his hair falling across his face. He looked so peaceful, so engrossed in the world within the pages, that it was impossible not to feel a surge of tenderness for the young man who haunted him even now they were together.

Rafael approached the couch, his gaze never leaving Summer’s face. Summer looked up. Their eyes met. Summer’s eyes were bright, sparkling with warmth and curiosity. Rafael’s heart skipped a beat.

“¿Quiubo?” Summer said, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

That smile was all it took for Rafael to cross the remaining distance between them, dropping to his knees beside the couch, and taking Summer’s face in his hands. He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to Summer’s lips, feeling his surprise quickly melting into pleasure.

“Rafael...” Summer whispered against his mouth, sliding his arms around Rafael’s neck, pulling him closer. “How are you feeling? You sore?”

“Shh,” Rafael hushed him gently, pressing another kiss to Summer’s lips, this one deeper and more insistent. “I’m fine, bichito. There are more important things than worrying about that.”

As they kissed, Rafael allowed himself to become lost in the sensation, letting his imagination run wild with images of a life together with Summer. A life where he could come home to sweet kisses like these every night, where he could kiss Summer whenever he wanted. He knew it was a dangerous fantasy, but he couldn’t help himself. Summer had sparked something inside him that Rafael hadn’t known existed, and now he couldn’t imagine letting go.

The sound of his burner phone ringing sliced through the hazy atmosphere like a knife, causing both Rafael and Summer to jerk back. Rafael shook his head and pulled the phone out of his pocket.

The call was from Garcia.

Rafael’s heart seized, a cold lump in his gut. Garcia, now. At such a time. It was a sharp reminder of the dangers of messing around with his boss’s precious youngest son.

“Wait here,” Rafael murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Summer’s forehead before disentangling himself. He shut himself in the bedroom for privacy. As he sat down on the bed, he felt a pang of guilt for having allowed himself to get so carried away with Summer. If Garcia knew what he’d done there would be hell to pay, Rafael was sure of it. The thought that Garcia did know, somehow, filled him with a creeping horror. Rafael cleared his throat and put on a game face to answer the phone.

“Hola, jefe,” he said, keeping his voice steady and confident despite the unease bubbling inside him.

“Rafael! It’s good to hear your voice,” Garcia greeted him warmly, immediately putting some of Rafael’s fears to rest. “So, has my Verano learned to behave yet?” Garcia asked, his tone casual, hiding any concern.

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