Rafael's left hand slid from my back to caress my cheek, grazing it lightly as his fingers trailed down to my jaw like he was tracing a priceless piece of art.
"Hm. That night, you thought I was going to kill myself." He chuckled low. "How cute. You cried your eyes out, thought I'd jump into the lake, then dragged me back, hugged me tight."
His fingers kept grazing—jaw, chin, neck, collarbone—until they reached the hollow of my chest and slowly started unbuttoning my shirt.
His eyes stayed locked on mine, dark with raw lust.
My chest heaved.
What was he going to do?
I should stop him, but my fingers stayed stubborn, clutching his shoulders like they had a mind of their own.
"Anyone would've thought the same. Who wouldn't panic seeing someone standing alone by a lake in the pouring rain at night?" I yelped.
Goosebumps rising as his fingers brushed the swell of my breast.
He smirked. "Why? Because my grandma's death was still fresh? Did you really think I was that weak?"
