Iris's POV

The car smelled like us.

Rafael didn’t speak after the cabin door shut behind us. He simply started the engine, pulled onto the dark track, and shoved one hand high between my thighs like he had every right to be there, his palm was heavy, fingers pressing firmly against the sore inner muscle and the heat still radiating from me. Every small bump in the road sent a dull, aching pulse through the bites and the deep tenderness where he’d stretched and knotted me for days. I shifted once and his grip tightened hard enough to bruise.

“I said stay still.”

“I’m trying,” I muttered, voice rough. “Your...