When it Raynes: Chapter 13

Having Rayne in my shitty apartment makes me nervous. The space is so small, only really big enough for one person, and he’s huge. Even if he wasn’t six foot four and built like a tank, his personality would be too big from the shoebox I live in.

He puts my bag down by the door and quickly shrugs out of his jacket. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact he’s staying. I’ve seen the availability he provided to Dad before he started working with us, and while he has deviated from the schedule some days, he’s never written off a full day.

“Are you sure you’re not too busy?” I ask.

“Are you trying to get rid of me, sweet girl?” Rayne smirks.

I shake my head. “Of course not. I just don’t want you wasting your day on me.”

He sighs. “Emerson, any time I spend with you is not a waste.”

I’m feeling awkward as I glance around at anything but Rayne. Everything he’s said, everything he’s done seems like a direct contradiction to who I thought he was. Even though I know he walks on the wrong side of the law at least some of the time, I can’t bring myself to care. I should because I’ve seen so much at the Center, everything revolving around gang violence, and if Rayne had anything to do with any of it, I should be hightailing it out of here, but strangely, after his reaction to Brad and then Russo, I feel drawn to him, safe even.

“Why don’t you change and hop into bed? Have you eaten today?” He turns toward the tiny kitchen and opens the fridge. “There’s no food in here.” He scowls.

I look down at my feet, shuffling uncomfortably on the spot. “I haven’t had a chance to go shopping,” I admit. I don’t bother telling him I’ve been living on ramen and canned food for the last six months, the only substantial meals I’ve eaten have been at Sunday dinner with my dad because food isn’t a luxury I can afford at the moment.

Rayne turns to me. “Did you have breakfast this morning?”

I consider lying to him, the lie on the tip of my tongue that I had something nutritious just so he’ll stop looking at me like he’s disappointed, but he seems to know when I’m not telling the truth, and although the threat of a spanking very much has heat pooling in my belly, I find I don’t want to lie to him. I shake my head again, breaking eye contact.

“Get ready for bed. I’ll organize some food.”

I’m moving toward the small bedroom before I even register the thought, my body taking the command before my mind can process it. It’s oddly freeing to not have to think about what I have to do next, to let someone else take the lead for once. It feels unnatural, but I kind of like it.

By the time I’ve changed into an oversized T-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts and pad barefoot back into the tiny living area with a textbook in my arms, Rayne is just lowering his phone from his ear. “What do you think you’re doing with that?” The command in his tone is clear, almost startling me.

“Um, I just thought seeing as I’m home, that I might catch up on some schoolwork.”

“You need to rest and you need to eat something other than packaged food. You didn’t sleep last night, and every day you’ve looked more tired than the last. I want you to have an afternoon where you don’t work, or study, or think about all the things that go through that pretty little head of yours before you burn yourself out.”

I open my mouth to argue, but the look Rayne gives me stops me in my tracks.

“Don’t waste your breath, sweet girl. It’s not an argument you can win.” He flashes me a smile and I almost melt where I stand. For the first time since I walked back into the room, Rayne’s eyes drag across my body, a look of rage setting in.

“What’s wrong?” I look down at what I’m wearing. I know it’s probably not what he’s used to, the girls he usually fucks probably wear expensive lingerie or present themselves naked for him, but he told me to get ready for bed, and he’s lecturing me about getting sleep, not falling at his feet.

Without answering, he crosses the room to where I’m standing, and strips me out of the T-shirt I was wearing. A moment later, and without his gaze lingering on my very bare chest and hardening nipples, he tears his own shirt over his head and drops it over my head, helping me slide my arms into the sleeves.

“No wearing other men’s shirts,” he growls.

I stare at him for long moments, my mouth agape. What the fuck just happened? “I-I… what?” I stammer. Every interaction with Rayne is weirder than the last, and just when I think I’ve worked out what’s going on, he pulls something like this and confuses the shit out of me.

Thunder crosses his face as he crowds into my space, bringing his face down until it lines up with my own. “No. Wearing. Other. Men’s. Shirts. If that’s what you like to sleep in, I will bring you some of mine, or better yet, wear nothing at all.”

“It’s not. I bought it because it’s comfortable. My body is the only one it’s ever been on,” I try to justify, but the tight set of his jaw should have told me not to bother.

“I don’t care. My shirts, or nothing at all. Those are your options.” Rayne’s hand moves until his fingers are gripping my chin. “Do I make myself clear?”

I nod slightly, but his grip on my face doesn’t allow for much movement. He’s not holding me tightly enough that it hurts, but it certainly got his point across.

“Good girl.”

The words cause a shiver to brush across my skin. If anyone else said them to me, I would snap and tell them I’m not a dog, but when Rayne says those words, my entire body leans into him and I want to do everything I can to hear them as often as I can.

Rayne’s lips tip up into a smirk before his eyes lock on my lips. For a moment I think, no, I hope, that he’s going to kiss me, but as my tongue darts out to wet my lips, a knock at the door draws our attention away from one another. He curses under his breath and crosses the small space to the door, shoving some money at the delivery guy and taking the food without a word before slamming the door in his face.

“Sit.” He points to the couch and dumps the bag into the middle of the tiny dining room table. It’s only ever been me here. I’ve never been game enough to invite anyone to the nightmare shoebox, but I’m glad Rayne isn’t going to try to fit at it.

I do as he says, not even bothering to offer to help. He won’t let me and it would just be a waste of my own breath. I listen as he rummages around the kitchen and a few minutes later a plate of pasta appears in front of me.

My stomach growls at the combination of flavors that assault my senses and Rayne chuckles. “You need to eat more often, and just more in general.”

“Don’t guys usually want girls to be as thin as possible? Therefore negating the eating concerns?” I ask out loud even though I’m pretty sure I meant to keep the question to myself.

“I want my woman healthy, and being healthy means eating three meals a day, and not just sad looking sandwiches and ramen.” Rayne sits beside me with his own plate of food in his lap.

I sigh. “I don’t know if you know this, but you’re not supposed to claim people without getting their consent.”

“Your body gives me every bit of go-ahead that I need, sweet girl. And you’ve never said no. You’ve never said you don’t want this.”

I think back at the time we’ve spent together, at the moments in the last twenty-four hours when we went from colleagues to more than that, and although I was mad last night and I told him to get out, I never said I didn’t want what he was offering, because I do. I want someone to take care of me, to put me first, to give a fuck about whether I eat or sleep. I want someone who is possessive and protective but respects my independence. Rayne is fighting the need to take over every aspect of my life. It’s barely contained under the surface, but he’s trying not to overwhelm me all at once.

God, if this is restrained, I don’t even want to think what out of control looks like.

A dark look crosses Rayne’s face. “Sweet girl, I need you to eat and stop looking at me like I’m the meal you want to devour before I lose control and take you right here and now.”

I open my mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. It’s like he’s stolen my thoughts, and all that is left is him. His face, his body, his scent, his possessiveness. It’s all I can see, all I can think about.

“I like rendering you speechless.” Rayne chuckles as he scoops up some pasta and shovels it into his mouth.

I scoff but don’t say anything, instead following his lead. The flavors explode on my tongue and I moan as I take my bite. Oh my god, it’s the best pasta I’ve ever had and it takes me another three mouthfuls to notice I’ve attracted an audience. Rayne stares at me with such pure intensity that my skin heats under his gaze, the pure lust in his dark eyes makes me forget my pasta all together.

“Is something wrong?” I ask.

His eyes flicker to mine, torn from my mouth. “Fine,” he grits out before turning his attention back to his food, his entire body tense.

I shrug before taking another heavenly mouthful of my food. Jesus, either I’ve forgotten what food is meant to taste like, or this is some really fucking good pasta.

By the time I take the last bite, making sure I scrape up every single bit of sauce in the bowl, I feel full and relaxed. When was the last time I took a few hours off to eat good food? Before Brad probably, back when I had disposable income and could actually afford to not work eighteen hours a day.

“Watching you eat that pasta was a fucking religious experience,” Rayne mutters as he takes our bowls to the kitchen. It’s such a domestic task for him to do, and he looks out of place doing it. Especially seeing as he’s shirtless, a fact I’m trying my very best not to focus on.

His corded muscles ripple as he walks, and the longer I stare, the more impressive they get. His scent envelops me as I hug his shirt closer. I should be annoyed that he ordered me only to wear his shirts to bed, that he told me my only other option is to sleep naked, but god, it’s a turn on. Does that make me fucked up? Probably. But the thing is, for the first time in my life, something feels right. It doesn’t feel temporary, I’m not already looking for an escape route, I’m not even preparing myself for the day he decides I’m too much trouble and leaves. I’m living in the here and the now, and I’m going to let myself enjoy the ride, even if it inevitably ends, at least I would have let myself embrace it while I could.