Chapter 16: Rising Tensions

The anger that had burned through Rafael now gave way to a different kind of heat. Standing there, soaked from head to toe in the shared shower, his gaze darkened as he began to unbutton his shirt. A wry smile twisted his lips. "I think it's time for our second night," he said, his voice laced with a deep, almost dangerous amusement.

Arabella's breath hitched as she stepped back, but the small shower stall left no room for escape. The only way out was past him.

"I... I can't. We're in the shower!" she stammered, her voice a mixture of embarrassment and shock.

Rafael's smile deepened, his eyes never leaving hers. "Doesn't that make it even more exciting?" he murmured, watching her with an intensity that made her heart race.

She flushed, caught between the desire to escape and the strange pull he had on her. As the water cascaded over them both, he discarded his shirt, followed by his pants. Arabella quickly turned her back to him, trying to hide the embarrassment, but it only deepened the awkwardness. If she had a weapon, even a fork, she might've fought him off right then and there. The thought was maddening.

The hot water trickled over Rafael's bare chest, soaking him further, his body slick and glistening. The glass door to the shower slid shut, trapping the steam inside. The fog blurred everything, and suddenly, the small space felt even smaller, suffocating in its intensity. Arabella couldn't look at him. The air felt thick, every breath a challenge as she stood there, tense and trembling, her back still turned.

"Please," she pleaded, voice barely above a whisper. "Don't... don't let your anger out on me."

Rafael's tone shifted, softening for a moment. "I was angry earlier... but not anymore." He took a step closer, his body brushing against hers as he whispered, "Turn around. Let me see you."

Arabella felt the weight of his words like a tangible pressure, but she refused to comply. "Please, just—take it to the bed," she managed to mutter, her voice laced with frustration and embarrassment.

Rafael's chuckle was low and knowing. "Now, that's the sexiest thing I've heard all night. You're wild, Arabella."

"I'm not..." She trailed off, too flustered to finish her sentence.

He moved closer, his body pressing against hers, his lips grazing the nape of her neck. "I had plans for our second night," he murmured. "But it seems the shower has become a far more thrilling choice."

Arabella's pulse quickened. She closed her eyes, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. "This is wrong," she whispered. "Not here, not now."

"But anywhere can be the right place," Rafael's voice was almost a growl as he leaned into her, the heat between them becoming undeniable. "And here? This is the hottest place of all."

The tension in the air was thick, and Arabella could feel her body betraying her, responding to him in ways she couldn't control. "I never—" She cut herself off, her voice cracking slightly.

"Never had a man wash your body?" Rafael teased, his breath hot against her ear.

She shivered but didn't respond. Her mind was reeling. He was right, everything about this felt impossible.

And yet, she couldn't seem to pull away.

Rafael's hand cupped her face gently, tilting her chin so their eyes met. There was a fire in his gaze, but also something else—something almost... tender. "Trust me, Arabella," he whispered, his tone now a little softer. "Just relax. This is only the beginning."

Her heart pounded as he moved closer, his lips brushing against hers, a soft kiss that sent shivers down her spine.

But before she could protest, her legs trembled, unable to support her as she leaned into him for balance. She shook her head, feeling both conflicted and confused.

"Arabella?" he whispered, his hand moving to steady her. "What's wrong?"

"I... I don't know what's wrong with my legs," she gasped, her voice shaky.

Rafael's smile softened, and he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Arabella's cheek, then her nose, before finally capturing her lips. The moment felt timeless, a soft storm brewing between them. He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers, trying to gauge the storm of emotions swirling beneath her flushed skin.

"Baby, you're shaking," he said quietly, his voice low but laden with meaning. "You don't realize it, do you?"

Arabella's heart skipped a beat, a mix of confusion and desire overwhelming her. She was caught somewhere between wanting to push him away and needing him closer, an internal tug-of-war that had no clear resolution. Her body, traitorous in its reactions, was a battlefield—her heartbeat thundering, her breath shallow.

"I—what are you talking about?" she whispered, her words barely audible, though her gaze told him everything he needed to know.

Rafael chuckled softly, the sound both comforting and frustrating. "Your body is telling me everything. It's called... weakness in the legs. You're melting under my touch, whether you want to admit it or not."

Arabella stiffened, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. "You think you know me so well."

"I do," Rafael murmured, a trace of both admiration and something darker in his eyes. "I think I'm starting to."

Her cheeks flushed even deeper at his words. She wanted to feel anger, to feel the sense of control that had always been so important to her, but in his presence, it slipped through her fingers like water. She hated how easily he unraveled her, how his touch sent tremors through her that she couldn't explain. She hated that he made her feel something—something real.

"I don't know what to feel around you," she confessed, her voice tight. "I don't know if I want to push you away or pull you closer."

Rafael studied her, his expression unreadable for a moment, before his face softened, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Maybe you don't need to decide right now. Maybe... just let go of the fight for a second."

Arabella closed her eyes, breathing deeply, the words hanging in the air between them like an invitation and a warning. She wanted to resist, to keep her distance, but part of her ached to be understood, to give in to the pull she felt whenever he was near.

"Don't make this about just us, Rafael," she whispered, almost as if pleading, as if she could stop it all if she just found the right words. "I don't want to be just another... moment for you."

Rafael's gaze darkened, but this time, there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes. "I don't want just a moment, Arabella. I want something real. Something more than what we've been pretending."

Her heart skipped again. The words hung between them, charged with unspoken meaning. They were more than just two people caught in a heated moment; they were two people who had tangled with the truth of their own desires, their own vulnerabilities, and now they stood on the precipice of something they couldn't ignore.

Arabella stepped back slightly, needing space, but her gaze never left his. "Then show me, Rafael. Don't just say it. Show me what you mean."

He didn't say anything more. Instead, he took a step toward her, closing the distance between them, but this time, he didn't rush. He moved slowly, deliberately, his fingers brushing over her skin with care, as if he was waiting for her to meet him halfway.

She didn't back away. She didn't pull back. And that, in itself, was the most telling thing of all.

***Imagine the rest readers***

The aftermath was even more awkward. Rafael held her close, savoring the lingering warmth between them, unwilling to let go. Arabella, her cheeks still burning with embarrassment, squirmed in his embrace, but he only tightened his hold, rocking their bodies together in a slow, possessive rhythm.

"Rafael, let go!" she finally snapped, shoving against his chest.

He only smirked. "Not yet... just a little longer."

Her patience snapped. With a sharp pinch to his stomach—hard—he yelped, cursing under his breath as he finally released her. She wasted no time reaching for the glass door, but before she could escape, his arms blocked her path once more.

"Not so fast," he drawled, eyes dark with mischief. "Since we're already here, why don't you shampoo my hair? Maybe scrub my back while you're at it?"

Her jaw dropped. "You cannot be serious."

"Oh, I am," he grinned, leaning against the tiled wall like a king expecting his queen's service.

They argued, voices rising over the sound of water splashing around them. He was insufferable—utterly impossible. In the end, she did the only thing she could. With a flick of her wrist, she lathered a handful of soap onto her palm and—without hesitation—smeared it straight into his eyes.

Rafael roared in agony. "Ah, damn it! It burns!"

Seizing the moment, Arabella turned off the water and bolted from the stall, snatching a towel on her way out. She heard him cursing behind her, water splashing wildly as he tried to rinse the sting from his eyes. Ha! Why hadn't she thought of that sooner?

In the privacy of the guest room, she dressed quickly, her fingers shaking slightly from both exhilaration and frustration. By the time she emerged, the house was eerily silent, save for the distant hum of the shower still running. A glance at the clock on the wall told her it was already 6 PM. Sunday evening. Her duty here was over. There was no reason to stay—not with that perverted maniac lurking around, likely planning his next outrageous stunt.

She hesitated. Should she wait until morning? No—too risky. If she stayed, he'd probably try to pull her into another round of madness. She could already hear him suggesting the kitchen table as a new setting. Ugh!

Her gaze flicked toward the kitchen, then back to the clock. Decision made.

By the time Rafael stepped out of the shower, freshly groomed and toweling his damp hair, the house had fallen into an unsettling silence. His instincts prickled. Something was wrong.

Frowning, he walked out, glancing around the room. No sign of Arabella.

His stomach twisted uncomfortably.

"Arabella?" he called, his voice echoing against the walls. No answer. He strode into the living room, checked the kitchen—empty. He checked outside, hoping to find her lingering on the porch, but the night air was still.

A slow realization crept over him, clawing at his chest.

She left.

She actually left him.

A deep frown settled on his face, his fingers tightening around the edge of the doorframe.

"Baby," he muttered under his breath, poking his head outside once more. "How can you just abandon me like this...?"

Silence.

His chest ached. A strange, unfamiliar feeling twisted in his gut—one he didn't quite recognize.

Rafael ran a hand through his damp hair and exhaled sharply.

Where the hell did she go?

Arabella arrived at the hotel where Louis was staying, the city lights casting long shadows across the pavement as she approached the front desk. Exhaustion clung to her, but there was no room for hesitation—she needed to leave before Rafael tracked her down.

When she knocked on Louis's door, he opened it almost immediately, his sharp green eyes widening in surprise.

"Arabella?" His voice was thick with sleep, but he quickly stepped aside to let her in. "What happened?"

"I need to borrow some money," she admitted, her voice quieter than usual. She hated asking, but there was no other choice.

Louis didn't hesitate. "Of course. Take whatever you need."

She sighed, relief washing over her as he handed her enough cash for a ticket back to Boston. And when he insisted on driving her to the bus station, she didn't refuse.

As they pulled up outside, he turned to her, concern etched into his face. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

She mustered a small smile. "I'll be fine. Thank you, Louis."

He hesitated before nodding. "I'll visit you in Boston once I wrap things up in New York."

Arabella nodded and stepped out into the night, the promise of distance from Rafael her only comfort.

It was nearly midnight when she finally reached home.

The familiar scent of her family's house, mixed with old books and lavender candles, greeted her as she knocked softly on the door. Moments later, Mia, her family's longtime housekeeper, appeared, blinking sleepily in her pajamas.

Mia stifled a yawn as she opened the door. "Miss... you're back."

Arabella stepped inside, rubbing her arms. "Did Mom and Dad call?"

"They did," Mia mumbled, rubbing her eyes. "They were worried. Wondering why you weren't answering."

Arabella sighed. "I see... You can go back to bed now."

Mia yawned again, stretching. "Of course I will! You interrupted my lottery dream." With that, she shuffled away, muttering about bad luck.

Arabella shook her head and made her way to her bedroom, barely making it to the bed before collapsing onto it.

Her limbs were heavy, her mind clouded.

Yet sleep wouldn't come.

Instead, she reached for her phone, the screen glowing softly in the dimly lit room. She hesitated for a moment before dialing a number.

After three rings, the voice on the other end exploded.

"Arabella?! Girl, where the hell have you been?"

She smiled despite herself. "I was in Nantasket."

There was a beat of silence. Then—

"Wait." Levi's voice dropped to a scandalized whisper. "You mean... with him?"

Arabella swallowed. "Yes."

A loud, exaggerated gasp.

"Ahh!! Banana split! Are you okay?! Do you need me to come over?"

Arabella let out a tired laugh. "I'm fine, Levi. Really."

"You don't sound fine," her best friend accused. "Wait, wait, hold up. What's wrong? Are you happy? Sad? Both?"

Arabella rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. "I... I don't know what to feel."

Levi's tone turned serious. "Okay. Let's break it down. Did he hurt you? Was he rough? Rape?"

"No!" Arabella sat up abruptly. "I—I... He was just..." She trailed off, heat creeping up her neck.

Levi pounced on her hesitation.

"Oh my God, why are you stuttering?!"

"Levi!" Arabella groaned, covering her face. "This is so embarrassing!"

"Girl. We grew up together. You can tell me everything."

"...Promise you won't laugh?"

"Arabella, I will swear on my last pair of designer heels."

She hesitated. Then, voice barely above a whisper, she confessed, "...The banana wasn't six inches."

A stunned silence.

Then—

"HOLY—! God above, take a picture next time!"

"Shut up!" Arabella grabbed a pillow and smacked it against her face. "No! And he didn't force me either. It just... happened."

Levi let out a low whistle. "So... no force, huh? Damn, girl. Sounds to me like you were seduced."

"Shut up! Just listen, okay?!"

Levi cackled but let her continue.

Arabella inhaled deeply. "As for being... abusive, he wasn't. But—"

"Oh, my God, don't tell me." Levi gasped. "Did he tie you up? Whips? Ropes? Handcuffs?"

"No!" Arabella nearly dropped her phone. "He... barged into the bathroom while I was showering. And then we had a... a..."

Levi paused dramatically.

"...A what?"

Arabella groaned. "A fruit battle in the stall."

Silence.

Then—

"AHHH!!! Wet kiwi and floating banana! GIRL!"

Arabella winced at the volume. "Levi, stop—"

"Hold up, I need water."

Arabella blinked. "Wait, wha—"

Click.

She stared at her phone in disbelief.

Did he just... leave?!

"...Levi?!"

Minutes later, the line reconnected, followed by gulping sounds.

"Okay, I'm back." Levi exhaled. "You made me so thirsty with this tea. Anyway—continue."

Arabella sighed. "Then I left him."

A pause.

"That's it?!" Levi practically screamed. "You're leaving out all the juicy details!"

"That is everything!"

"Oh, hell no. Did you at least tell him to use protection?"

Arabella's face burned. "He did. But... not when we were in the shower."

Levi screeched. "AH! Girl! You got it GOOD! Wrapped on the bed, raw in the shower—whew!"

"Shut up!" Arabella threw the pillow across the room. "You talk like you're on his side!"

Levi snorted. "I mean... I'm just saying, sis. If you hate him, you sure let him—"

"Enough!" Arabella cut her off. "No matter what, I still hate him! And you're helping me find a way to get rid of him."

Levi sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine. Your wish is my command."

"Good." Arabella yawned, suddenly exhausted. "Come over tomorrow, okay? Good night."

Click.

Levi, on the other end, grinned at her phone.

"Oh, girl. You are so doomed."