Rafe (The Wounded Sons Book 4)

by Leah Sharelle

  I wanted to make new memories and feel something other than remorse.

  I wanted to feel a woman’s soft, naked body writhing under me.

  I wanted to be touched, to be kissed, to hear sweet feminine moans.

  I wanted Peyton.

  To hear her scream my name, to feel her body shudder when I entered her for the first time. To make love to the fairy floss-haired beauty and see in her eyes the passion I so badly wanted to create with her.

  Reaching the car, I pressed the button on the fob and sank down into the leather bucket seat, and inhaled deeply.

  Peyton.

  Bunny.

  Fuck, I hope I am ready for her.

  ***

  Heading down the Midland Highway, I breathed a sigh of relief when the sign Welcome to Ballarat came into view. After one hundred and twenty kilometres of practically holding my breath, my knuckles turning white and aching from gripping the steering wheel so tight and my mind going a hundred miles an hour. Bouncing back and forth from anger and guilt, it was all really starting to take its toll on me. For a minute, I thought about taking the exit to the Souls compound and grabbing a bottle of Tequila, finding a quiet corner, and drinking myself into oblivion. That idea had merit, and I could really use a drink after months of abstinence while away on deployment. Even last night at the party, I only had one drink of light beer because I was too wound up from the flight home and because I wanted to see Peyton so badly. Seeing her, making sure she was okay, came first.

  Choosing to turn left instead of right, the traffic in front of me flowed harmoniously, giving me a rest from concentrating so much on my driving and more time to ponder how I was going to approach Peyton when I got back to her place. Not being from Ballarat originally, I didn’t have a place here, not one with my name on the lease. I had my unit in Queenscliff with the others and in Bendigo, I rented a room at the back of a pub close to the facility Angie was in for nothing more than a place to sleep. I paid the publican a yearly amount for the room, and he in turn, made sure no one went in there. I never kept too much there, but I was a suspicious person by nature and very private. Those two traits served me well as a sniper and when coming into contact with an enemy. Trust was a big thing in my team, we trusted each other explicitly, but I found it hard to trust outside that group of five men.

  Shiloh and Booth always let me stay at the compound whenever Team FIVE were in town. The club also owned the unit complex near the base which saved us a lot of money. I enjoyed being at the compound and never worried about strangers going into my room while not there. The original Souls had a level of respect and trust to be envied, they were loyal and I liked that about them.

  Lately, however, I had been hanging out at Peyton’s more often when in Ballarat. At first, it was to keep her safe with the threat of Justin still being on the run. Peyton had such a hard time dealing with her anxiety over the fire I kind of talked myself into the frame of mind that was the only reason. Of course, I was shitting myself and everyone else with that load of crap. Carrying Peyton out of the burning building that night, something in me switched. A raw, fiery spark ignited in me the second she looked at me with those magnificent eyes, the way she held onto me, refusing to let me go. Every cell in my body screamed at me that she was the one, every part of my DNA demanded I claim her as mine and never let her go. Of course I didn’t, but I did insert myself into her life in other ways. Becoming friends might have given me the longest case of blue balls, but she let me in, and for that, I was grateful. Six months of torturing myself with nights on the couch holding her, smelling her sweet scent, and being with her, refusing to acknowledge that there was something more between us.

  Something special, but unattainable. Until now. I hope.

  I’d already sent Peyton a text before leaving Bendigo to let her know I was heading back a day early. I had to report back at the base in two days, and I’d rather spend those days with her than staring at my comatose ex-wife and fighting with her parents, and I absolutely did not have any intention of attending a birthday party for her.

  Travelling down the familiar streets, turning right, passing by the vet clinic where Peyton works, I pushed the speed limit to the max until a little house with a bright red, tin roof came into view, my car still parked in the drive under the carport as if it belonged there.

  Fuck, it looked good sitting there on Peyton’s property.

  Swinging into the drive, I parked her ute behind my Kingswood, immediately knowing it had not been moved since I left early this morning, which meant Peyton either walked to work or she caught a lift with Addy. A grin lifted at the corners of my mouth, she was stubborn, my Bunny. Leaving my car there and walking, so it appeared someone was home. It pissed me off that she went to such lengths to feel safe in her own home, in the place she lived and worked.

  The club had feelers out for Justin, but so far, he was keeping himself underground whether on his own or with some help by a person or persons unknown … but not for long.

  Booth had a long and far reach, the AFP, for example. Mannix’s son James had been brought in six months ago when it all went down, his involvement, however, was coming to an end. Gabe mentioned something about James wanting to retire from the AFP, needing to do something different with his life. I wasn’t privy to what brought about this turnaround. James was a good man, and a dedicated cop. His concern over Peyton and Addy showed in his determination to catch Justin and make him face his crimes. Justin had a real problem and, in my opinion, a death wish, going not only after the club’s business but also Booth’s nephew’s woman. He also tried intimidating Bastian’s wife, Wren, before they married.

  Whatever his problem with the club was, James promised Gabe and the club to end the case before he left to pursue other interests.

  Swinging open the car door, my feet hit the ground at the same time Peyton came out of the house and stood on the front porch, the dogs on her heels. Her light pink hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, dressed in a loose fit tee, one shoulder of the shirt hanging low down her arm showing off her smooth sun-kissed skin and, more importantly, the fact that she had no bra under the top. Groaning, I resisted the urge to adjust my thickening crotch, and I let my eye travel down her sexy body to take in the rest of her outfit. Narrowing in on the sliver of skin between the short white top and the waist of her shorts … very short white shorts, I took my time ogling her long, lean legs and finished my mouth-watering journey at the coral painted toenails and the sexy toe rings she wore on two of her toes on both feet.

  Since when did toe rings do it for me? Never, not until Peyton leapt into my arms and my life.

  She is a fucking goddess dressed in white and pink.

  “Hey you,” Peyton called out softly, her hands in front of her leaning over the porch rail and smiling at me. Her smile split her face like always, but it didn’t reach her stunning amber eyes.

  Something has happened.

  “Hey back, Bunny.” Closing the door softly the way Peyton insisted on, I walked slowly to the bottom step and stared at her. “What’s wrong?”

  Her smile dropped from her mouth. “How on earth do you know something is wrong?” she huffed at me.

  “Because Bunny, you might be giving me that thousand mega-watt smile, but your eyes aren’t firing. Even from here, I can’t see the different depths of colour your eyes hold. So tell me what has happened.” Taking the three steps at once, I landed on the wooden deck without so much as a thud. One more pro of being a trained commando, make no noise, and they won’t hear you coming.

  “You have to teach me how you do that,” Peyton demanded, pointing at my feet. “In fact, I was kind of hoping you would teach me some basic self-defence moves that could be helpful.”

  I recognised stalling tactics when I heard them, but Peyton wasn’t the type to be pushed. She went at her own speed, opened up when she felt ready. Choosing to follow her lead, I nodded my head.

  “I can do that for you baby. When I get back from the tr
aining exercise, we can start with some useful basics that aren’t too involved but very effective in preventing an attacker from hurting you.” As I said the words, a tight ball fisted in my gut. Just the thought that someone might hurt Peyton had my inner alpha pushing to the surface, memories of a night not all that long ago, the fear on Peyton’s face etched into my mind followed me in my sleep.

  Of all the shit I saw overseas in my military career, the worst vision was Peyton’s wide, scared eyes begging me through the glass to save her. The worst for me was seeing the brief flash of resignment that she was going to die that passed across her beautiful tear-stained face.

  Stopping the direction of my mood, I held out my hand to Peyton.

  “Wanna go inside and watch a movie?”

  “Sure.” She nodded taking my hand. “But can we talk first?”

  Hearing the underlining seriousness in her innocent suggestion, I stilled myself for bad news.

  “Sure Bunny, whatever you want.” Meaning the pure truth behind my simple answer with every fibre of my being.

  Whatever she wants, that is all I want.

  CHAPTER SIX

  PEYTON

  The warmth of Rafe’s hand enveloping mine calmed some of the nerves dancing around inside me. After I left the clinic today, I promised Addy that I would talk to Rafe and open up to him. The more and more I thought about Rafe and I becoming something more than friends, the more it appealed to me. Our friendship was solid, our bond was already there, and so was the spark of electricity every time he touched me or vice-versa. All we needed was the truth and honesty all relationships required to go the distance.

  My last and only relationship was in my teens. The most adult thing Darren and I did was have sex; other than that we both lived with our parents and went to school. All we had to worry about was our popularity and being seen as the cutest couple at school. If I thought really hard about my time being Darren’s girlfriend, I honestly wouldn’t be able to recall one serious relationship talk or expressing our feelings for one another other than the obligatory ‘love you’ or ‘call you tonight’.

  Now, I was no longer a teenage girl, only concerned with how her friends saw her. Nor was I that girl that put the feelings of a boy before hers. As important as my budding but hidden feelings for Rafe were to me, we had nothing if we couldn’t be honest with each other.

  Entering the house, I pulled Rafe through the lounge and into the kitchen. When I got home from work, and received a text telling me he was on the way home, I started on a special meal for Rafe and myself. He might think we will be sitting down to watch a movie with a bowl of spaghetti Bolognese on our laps like we normally would. However, tonight was different, at least for me. Giving him the story of my life meant a roast tea with all the trimmings. A leg of lamb with a herb crust, minted peas, Hasselback spuds, carrots and parsnips—the whole shebang. An added bonus my beautiful boys can have the bone later as a treat.

  “Take a seat, Rafe, tea is just about ready.” Busying myself at the stove, I stirred the gravy I’d made from scratch and not from an instant powder, then turned off the heat and set it off the element to thicken some more on its own.

  “Sure you don’t need any help, Bunny?” Rafe asked as he pulled out a chair at the table that was already set with plates and cutlery, not sitting just looking at me.

  “Nope, all good thank you, kind sir, take a load off and let me take care of you … um, everything, take care of everything,” I stammered quickly in a poor attempt to cover my slip.

  Take care of you? Seriously, Pey? Why not scare him off by getting all demanding and acting like his mother before anything has a chance to start.

  Of course, the fault for my skittish and weird behaviour landed squarely on his shoulders. It was his fault he was too good looking for his own good and that he made me tingle between the legs just by speaking.

  Damn sexy growl.

  Quickly plating two serves of roast, and doing my best not to look affected by the intense scrutiny from the handsome devil sitting at the table. I didn’t do well when stared at, all my insecurities came to the surface, reminding me that my thighs probably touched too closely, that my middle toe bent slightly at the end, causing it to overlap his neighbour, and that fine freckles from too much sunbathing littered my shoulders. Say nothing of the fact that my belly pooched with a muffin top when I wore too-tight shorts … like the ones I had on.

  As discreetly as I could manage, I pulled at the hem of my tee only to pull the shoulder further down my arm uncovering more skin and a good portion of the top of my boob … and in doing so also unveiling a small oval mole. On my face, it would be described as a beauty spot, but on my boob it was a mole, no escaping that fact.

  Thank you, Cindy Crawford.

  Realising that I was out of options to gather any shred of dignity, I carried the two plates with half of my breast exposed to the table, practically dropping Rafe’s in front of him, tiny peas scattering everywhere onto the table.

  “Shit, sorry.” My mumble sounding more like a plea for divine intervention than an apology.

  “Bunny,” Rafe murmured, his large hand reaching out to gently capture my wrist, stopping me just as I was about to sink helplessly to the chair.

  “Huh?” I stammered, my eyes glued to where he was holding me instead of on the fact that in my stooped position, I was giving him a good look at the bottom half of my exposed boob.

  “Relax. Eat first, then talk.” He smiled gently at me, then letting go of me, he trailed his fingers up my arm gathering the scrunched material, and without a care in the world or taking his eyes from my breast, he fixed my top, his knuckles grazing my collar bone shooting sparks of desire right to my core.

  “Thank you,” I breathed as I collapsed into the kitchen chair, my legs quivering and my skin still tingling from his brief touch.

  I marked that moment. The moment I fell madly in love with Rafe Walsh, and damn, that only meant trouble for me.

  Tea went smoothly if you consider twenty minutes of lingering sexual tension smooth, or Rafe looking at me like he’d rather be eating me instead of the roast. I have to admit I liked the way his eyes kept lingering on the neck of my loose shirt as if his life depended on it. I thought more than once to mess with him, I’d shrug the neckline off my shoulder, but I decided against it. We had a few steps to tackle before getting naked and sweaty if we indeed got there.

  “Bunny, how about you go pick a movie on Netflix, and I will clean up the dishes,” Rafe suggested quietly, his eyes firmly in the spot they had been the whole meal. Only this time, there was heat smouldering in his dark orbs. Looking down, I immediately felt my face burn, noticing that I had indeed shrugged at some point during my inner monologue exposing just a little more than the first unintentional wardrobe malfunction.

  “Please Peyton, go into the lounge room because if you don’t, then when I stand up in about five seconds, you are going to see that my cock is stiff as fuck and I don’t think either of us are ready for what happens if you accidentally point those pretty eyes of yours at my crotch.”

  “Oh,” I gulped, willing myself not to look because I really, really wanted him to stand up now so I could look. I mean, it’s not as if I haven’t been aware that Rafe sometimes gets hard when we are watching TV together. Especially when my feet are in his lap, and he is rubbing them absently while engrossed in a movie. One time I even slid my foot across the huge bulge just because the wanton whore inside me wanted to know how hard he was, very hard I discovered.

  “Yeah, so if you don’t mind—” he looked down at his lap and made a motion to get up, which of course got me moving and bolting for the lounge, a strangled gasp wrenching from my lips.

  Dear God, act your age Peyton. You have seen a hard dick behind pants before, you have had sex before, remember! Giving myself a mental talking to, I picked up the remote and turned on the television, drowning out the rumbled laughter coming from the kitchen.

  Trying to concentrate on t
he menu of movies in front of me, my mood quickly soured from playful only minutes ago to nerves and trepidation. Rafe and I were friends first and foremost, what happened in the kitchen where he stared at me with heated eyes was beside the point. I kept something very important from him and that was not sitting well with me. The last six months we had really connected, shared so much of our lives. I accepted that he was obviously harbouring something secret too, but in no way could it be worse than having a baby son at eighteen and losing him only months later. A lie of omission was still that … a lie.

  “Okay Bunny, what is going on inside that pretty head of yours?” Rafe asked, startling me enough that I let out a scream.

  “Jesus Rafe, make some noise, will ya,” I huffed, holding my hands to my rapidly beating chest. How did he manage to do this on a regular basis? No wonder Justin got to Addy and me so easily. I really had to start being more aware of my surroundings.

  “My job remember, baby? Okay, so start talking. When I came home, I could tell you were upset. Your face was all blotchy and your eyes puffy, I’m guessing and I hope incorrectly, that you spent a great deal of the day crying.” Rafe moved from his position at the entry of the lounge from the kitchen and made his way slowly to me.

  “I don’t like knowing you have been upset and I wasn’t here to make it better, Bunny.”

  “Why do you call me Bunny?” I blurted out rather randomly. It was a question I also wanted to ask him, as well as others, such as why he called me pretty all the time and all the other endearments I have come to crave and expect.

  Rafe gawked at me for a brief moment, his eyebrows furrowing at the sudden turn in the conversation.

  “Um, there is no hidden reason, it’s because of your hair. You change it often but always pastel colours like the pink you have now. Kind of reminds me of an easter egg, and not because you are a vet nurse.”