Chapter 1 The Touch That Ruins Me

The white lace was so tight across my ribs I could barely breathe. I stood on the small wooden platform in front of the three-way mirror, watching the seamstress pin the hem of my dress. Ten years. Ten long years I had been with Joe Carson, and in three weeks, I was finally going to be his wife. I forced a smile at my reflection, trying to ignore the strange, heavy lump sitting in the pit of my stomach.

"Hold still, dear," the elderly woman whispered, her cool fingers adjusting the low lace back of the gown.

Suddenly, a wave of cold air hit the room as the front door opened. I didn't even have to look to know someone had walked in, but then a specific scent filled my nose. It wasn't the sweet lavender perfume the shop owner used. It was the sharp smell of rain, expensive cedar wood, and bitter tobacco.

It was a scent that definitely did not belong in a bridal boutique.

Then, I felt it.

A large, calloused hand pressed flat against the center of my bare back.

My whole body went rigid. The skin where those rough fingers touched flared hot instantly, sending a wild shock straight down my spine. The touch was firm, possessive, and completely improper.

"Joe?" I gasped, turning my head quickly.

"Guess again, little bride," a low, gravelly voice rumbled right behind my ear.

I spun around so fast I nearly tripped on the long train of my dress. Standing over me was not my polite, golden boy fiancé. It was Rafael Carson.

Joe’s stepbrother. The family outcast who had vanished eight years ago under a dark cloud of rumors and bad blood.

He was towering, broad shouldered, and wearing a leather jacket soaked with rain. Dark ink spilled over his knuckles and crept up his neck beneath his collar. His dark hair was messy, and his eyes were so deep and intense they felt like a heavy weight pressing down on my chest.

"Rafael," I breathed, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. "What are you doing here? Joe said you weren't coming back to the city."

Rafael didn't answer right away. His dark eyes slowly dragged down my body, taking in the white lace, the fitted waist, and the sheer lace back. His jaw clenched hard, a sharp muscle twitching in his cheek.

"Joe is an idiot," Rafael said flatly, his voice echoing in the quiet shop. "He leaves you alone in a room with the doors unlocked while he runs off to play golf with his father's board members."

"He's busy preparing for the wedding," I said defensively, taking a step backward off the wooden platform to put some distance between us. "You shouldn't be here."

"I came to deliver a message," Rafael said, stepping right into my personal space again without missing a beat. "Arthur wants everyone at the mountain cabin tonight. Family dinner."

"Tonight?" I frowned. "There's a massive storm blowing in from the coast. The mountain roads are going to be completely flooded."

"Tell that to your precious fiancé," Rafael sneered softly. "He's already on his way up there."

Three hours later, the rain was pounding against the dark glass windows of the mountain cabin like thrown gravel. Wind howled through the tall pine trees outside, making the old wooden beams of the house creak and groan.

I sat at the long kitchen island, wearing an oversized sweater and leggings, staring at my phone screen. No signal.

"He isn't coming back tonight, is he?" I asked out loud to the empty room.

Joe had brought me up here, dropped my bags in the master bedroom, and then immediately left again. He claimed he had urgent errands to run for his father down in the valley town, promising he would be back before dinner. That was four hours ago.

"I told you," a deep voice called out from the doorway.

I jumped, turning around to see Rafael leaning against the wooden frame. He had shed his wet jacket, leaving him in a thin black t-shirt that stretched tight over his broad chest and heavily tattooed arms. He held two glasses of dark amber liquid in his hands.

"He's not coming back, Dara," Rafael said, walking over to the counter with slow, deliberate steps. "When a storm like this hits the pass, the lower road gets blocked by mudslides. He knew that before he left."

"He said it was an emergency," I said, my voice sounding weak even to my own ears.

"The only emergency Joe has is avoiding anything that requires effort," Rafael said coldly. He set one of the glasses down on the counter right in front of me. "Drink this. You're shivering."

"I don't want it," I lied, crossing my arms over my chest to hide the fact that my hands were shaking.

Rafael let out a low, bitter laugh. He set his own glass down, planted both of his palms flat on the kitchen counter on either side of my hips, and leaned in close.

Before I could react, the overhead lights flickered violently twice, buzzing loudly, and then died completely. Plunging the kitchen into pitch black darkness, saved only by the blue flashes of lightning outside the window.

I gasped, my breath catching in my throat as I felt the intense heat radiating off Rafael’s body in the dark. He didn't back away. If anything, he leaned closer until his chest was nearly brushing against mine.

"Why are you doing this, Dara?" Rafael whispered in the dark, his deep voice dangerously close to my face.

"Doing what?" I managed to choke out, my fingers gripping the edge of the wooden counter behind me.

"Marrying him," Rafael growled. "You're spending your life with a coward who leaves you alone in the dark on a mountain during a gale storm. You've spent ten years convincing yourself that he's enough for you."

"Joe loves me!" I spat out, trying to push against his hard chest, but my hands felt entirely powerless against him. "We have a life together! You don't know anything about us!"

"I know he doesn't look at you the way a man should look at the woman he owns," Rafael rasped.

A sharp flash of lightning illuminated the room for a split second. In that blue light, I saw Rafael’s dark eyes fixed completely on my face. He wasn't looking at my eyes.

He was staring directly down at my lower lip, his teeth grinding together as if he wanted to lean down and bite it right off my face.

My heart did a violent flip in my chest. A strange, hot coil tightened deep in my belly, a sensation so sharp and foreign that it terrified me. Joe had kissed me thousands of times over the last decade, but my body had never, ever felt like it was on fire like this.

Rafael lowered his head, his warm breath fanning across my skin, his chest pressing against mine until there wasn't a single inch of air left between us.

"Tell me to leave, Dara," Rafael whispered against my cheek, his fingers slowly brushing a stray lock of hair away from my wet neck. "Tell me you don't want me here, and I'll walk out that door right now."

I opened my mouth to tell him to go. I wanted to say the words. I needed to say the words. But as his rough thumb traced the line of my jawline, my voice completely trapped itself in my throat, and I realized with utter horror that I didn't want him to move an inch.