Amnesiac

CHAPTER 8

You couldn't take your eyes off of him.

Rafe.

Your boyfriend.

He sat across from you at the table, halfheartedly contributing to the conversation going on between the rest of the family. You yourself had been quiet. You had been since the morning after you and Rafe had sex, the morning in which you discovered something that turned your whole world upside down. It had taken you ages to move from your spot on the floor, shakily collecting all of the photos and putting them back in the box.

Your timing couldn't have been better because Rafe had been groaning awake just as you had straightened.

The smile he had greeted you with was one filled with satisfaction, hand lazily reaching out for you. Still a bit dazed and all kinds of confused, you had taken his hand, allowing him to pull you down beside him. His gaze had lingered on your neck, and when you didn't say anything, Rafe was the one to break the silence.

"How'd you sleep?" he had murmured, voice much deeper in the morning as he reached up to touch your face.

"Fine."

It hadn't been a lie. It was in fact one of the best sleeps you'd gotten since your accident, and you knew it was because your body was much too exhausted to be interrupted by anything. Rafe had smiled at you, and you had studied it with a slight furrow of your brows.

"...and how are you feeling?"

You knew what he was inquiring about, and you cleared your throat.

"A little sore," you admitted, hoping it would discourage any ideas he might've gotten. "...but nothing a bath can't help."

"I'll run it for you," Rafe said, making his way to his feet before you had time to protest.

You had glanced down at the sight of scratch marks on his back, the previous night leaving a bad taste in your mouth. In truth, you had wanted to forget it, but it was hard to forget the way Rafe had completely taken you apart. Especially when you were hit with a reminder every time you moved. You shouldn't have been surprised when Rafe joined you in the bath, making himself comfortable behind you.

If he had taken note of your quiet nature that morning, he didn't say anything, but that probably had more to do with his hand sliding between your legs.

Like the night before, your protests went ignored, swallowed by his own lips as he tilted your head back. You hadn't known if your parents were home, but the way Rafe had begged to hear you had clued you in on the fact that they probably weren't. Your hands had slid along the edge of the tub as his own curled into your waist, pulling you down onto his cock.

By the time you had come around him, your body was literally screaming in protest, sagging against him. Rafe had one arm around your neck and the other around your torso while lifting his hips up to meet yours. His chest was pressed to your back, and the water had long grown cold while he lazily pushed his cock into you.

When he had finally let you go, you felt like you couldn't get away fast enough, weak excuses on your lips while wrapping a towel around you. The truth was that you couldn't look at Rafe the same, couldn't touch him the same. Everything about his touch felt wrong, and every look in his eye made your heart skip a beat.

The discovery of those photos had placed a face to the figure in your memories...and it didn't belong to Rafe.

In fact, the only memories you had of Rafe so far were bad ones. If you weren't screaming at him while he made you cry, then you were scowling at him as he spouted some classist bullshit at you. That love and trust and comfort you'd felt hadn't been with Rafe, but instead JJ, and you didn't even know how to go about processing that.