Before he could stop himself, before he could think about why the hell this was a bad idea, he reached for her. And kissed her. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t hesitant. It was raw, deep, and consuming. His hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back as his lips crashed against hers, demanding, punishing. The taste of danger and blood lingered between them, but neither pulled away. Celia froze for a split second, then snapped out of it. Slap. Her palm connected with his face so hard it echoed in the small space. Rafael barely reacted. His head turned slightly from the impact, but his grip on her waist only tightened. Instead of letting go, instead of backing off, he pulled her even closer, his breath warm against her skin, his presence overwhelming. His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “Try that again."