Page 63 of Rafe: Sins of the Father

“Oh, you do, huh?”

She nods. “I rush to the window and watch your single headlight in the distance. I watch you stand with Bubba. Some mornings I can see the flare of your cigarette.”

“You’ve been watching me all this time, huh, pretty girl?”

“I have. So, don’t doubt what this is, Rafe. Don’t doubt the way I feel about you.”

The next morning, sure enough, I park my bike near the deserted mill and wait in the shadows. I send her a text, and a few minutes later, I see her running—not walking,running—down the drive to meet me. She’s out of breath by the time she reaches me.

I barely give her a moment to breathe before I drag her to me and capture her lips with mine. She breaks off to gasp in air, and my mouth trails down her throat. I let my hands go farther than they ever have with her, running them over her ass, and pulling her tight against me to let her feel the erection pressing against my jeans.

She moans, and I capture her mouth again. Our kisses are hot and heavy, and soon I’m backing her against the wall of the shop and unfastening the top of her jeans to slip my hand inside. The need in me drives me on, and I have to know if she’s wet for me. I slip my fingers under the silky panty she wears and part her pussy lips with my middle finger. I sink into satiny heaven, instantly coated with the answer I’m searching for.

Tori moans under my mouth.

I find her clit and rub circles around it, and she immediately responds by going up on her toes and thrusting her hips toward me, eager for more. I give her more, burying two fingers inside her. I don’t have enough room and break the kiss. “Drag your jeans down.”

She willingly complies, wiggling them to her thighs.

I watch her beautiful eyes dilate with desire as I work my fingers in and out of her, building a rhythm that soon has her bucking against my hand and moaning. With my thumb, I work her clit until she’s panting and close to orgasm.

“Come on my fingers, baby. Come all over them,” I whisper in her ear.

A few more strokes, and she does, gasping out, my name a whisper on her lips, and I’ve never heard anything sexier or sweeter. This girl is mine. She’s the one I’ve been waiting for my entire life. I know it down to my soul.

Withdrawing, I carry my fingers to my lips and suck them clean, moaning at the taste of her. “Goddamn, baby. I can’t wait until the day I can bury my face between your legs.”

She’s panting, and her body is limp in my arms.

I’m aware of the time, and know the men will be arriving soon, so I tug her jeans up and kiss her, then press my forehead to hers. “Let me drive you back up to the house. I’ve still got the keys to the truck.”

Before I can, a flash of headlights hits the building, and I see Ed’s car pulling in, but he parks on the other side of the building.

Tori instantly stiffens. “I’ve got to go.”

We hold hands until the last possible second, and then she turns and hurries up the drive. The sun has yet to rise, but the sky is lighting to a deep blue.

It’s going to be a fucking glorious day.

We meet every morning that week.

There’s a picnic table in the shade of a tree at the edge of the parking area where the guys sometimes take breaks. It becomes our spot.

Each meeting grows hotter until I’m struggling to contain myself. I want nothing more than to lay her out on that table and fuck her, but I’ll be damned if our first time together will be there. She deserves so much better. She deserves everything.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Tori—

I’m nervous about meeting Rafe today. We’ve met every day this week, and now it's Saturday. He talked about spending the day together after he got off work, but I know I have to tell him why I can’t.

My stomach is in knots, and I’m trembling. I’m terrified he’s not going to understand. I walked to the mill office early to wait for him. He won’t be happy about that, because I’m here alone right now, and that’s probably not safe. But I needed the time to get my head together. I knew I couldn’t just walk down the driveway and into his arms.

I’m pacing, trying to figure out how to soften the blow, how to start, what words to use. In the end, all I can come up with is to just blurt it out. Pussyfooting around isn’t going to make it any easier. I ] don’t know how he’s going to react.

I hear him coming long before he gets here. The rumble of his bike has always been a comfort to me. Now it rattles my nerves, because I’ve run out of time.

He turns off the highway, then rolls around and parks. I step out of the shadows, taking him by surprise as he swings off his bike.

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