Chapter 5 Fire & Frustration
1006 Words
————Teri’s POV
The sun had long since disappeared, and with it, any lingering warmth.
Teri hated that.
She hated a lot of things right now.
The sharp ache in her ribs. The way exhaustion pulled at her bones. The fact that she hadn’t had real food in what felt like a lifetime.
But mostly?
She hated that Raffael was annoyingly, unfairly, infuriatingly good at this.
At surviving. At problem-solving. At making a literal fire out of nothing but sticks and sheer arrogance.
And to make matters worse, he had to do it all while looking like that.
Shirtless. Relaxed. Stupidly competent.
Teri shot him a long, unimpressed look from where she sat near the fire, shivering slightly as the night air crept in.
Because of course, he wasn’t cold. No, Raf sat entirely at ease, arms resting lazily on his knees, like they weren’t stranded on an island with no rescue in sight.
She was miserable, and he looked like he was on vacation.
Unacceptable.
“Okay,” she finally said, breaking the silence. “Where exactly did you learn how to do all this?”
Raf didn’t even glance at her. Just smirked slightly. “Survival skills 101.”
Teri snorted. “Ah, yes. That very common elective at billionaire yacht-owner school.”
That time, he did glance at her, amusement flashing in those too-green eyes.
“You assume I own the yacht.”
Teri shrugged, shifting carefully to avoid aggravating her ribs. “Well, you don’t exactly scream ‘guy who waits in line for things.’”
Raf chuckled—low, deep, unfairly attractive.
The worst sound in the world.
“Fair enough,” he murmured.
Teri pursed her lips, watching him closely.
Too at ease.
Like he knew something she didn’t. Like he wasn’t remotely worried about how they were getting off this damn island.
Suspicious.
“So,” she said, narrowing her eyes, “you’re not freaking out at all?”
Raf finally turned his full attention to her, tilting his head slightly. “Are you?”
“Uh, yeah,” she said, waving a hand. “We almost died, in case you forgot. We have no phone, no GPS, and we’re on a deserted island—”
“Not deserted,” he corrected smoothly.
Teri squinted at him. “Oh, my bad. Does the resort open at sunrise?”
His smirk deepened.
“Relax, bella.” His voice was smooth, knowing. “We won’t be here long.”
She frowned. “And you know that how?”
His smirk didn’t fade, but something about his gaze shifted—just slightly.
Too confident.
Too sure.
Huh.
Before she could press him further, a sharp gust of wind crept through the trees, slicing straight through her like an icy blade.
She shuddered. And of course, he noticed.
“You’re cold.”
Teri rolled her eyes. “Oh, thank you. What would I do without your keen detective skills?”
Instead of answering, **he stood up—fluid, effortless, impossibly graceful—**and before she could react, he was pulling his shirt off.
Teri stared. Hard.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Giving you this,” he said simply, tossing the warmed fabric toward her.
She caught it on reflex, blinking at him.
“Raf, you’re already half-naked,” she pointed out, because someone needed to be the voice of reason here. “This seems counterproductive.”
“Not really.” He crouched in front of her, holding her gaze with an infuriating amount of confidence. “You need warmth more than I do.”
Teri hesitated. She hated when he made sense.
Still, she wasn’t about to argue when her entire body felt like ice.
She exhaled, slipping the shirt over her head.
It was big, ridiculously big, hanging loose over her frame, the sleeves swallowing her fingertips. But it was warm. Soft. And—damn it—it smelled like him.
Like salt, fire, and something darkly expensive.
She swallowed hard.
“Better?” he asked, voice quieter now.
Teri nodded, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was.
Still crouched.
Still watching her.
The fire flickered between them, casting sharp shadows across his jaw, his arms, the cut of his collarbone.
She wasn’t sure who moved first.
One second, she was staring at his lips.
The next, his hand was sliding up her thigh.
A **light touch, barely there—**but enough to make her pulse jump.
Her breath caught, but she didn’t stop him.
Didn’t pull away.
Didn’t want to.
——-Raffael’s POV
Raf should have pulled back.
Should have ignored the way her body tensed, then softened beneath his touch.
Should have never let his fingers trail higher.
But she wasn’t stopping him.
And that?
That was a problem.
His hand rested against her bare thigh, testing, waiting.
She inhaled sharply. Her breath hitched.
And then—pain.
She flinched, gasping, her body jerking away on instinct.
Raf moved before he even realized what he was doing.
Not teasing.
Not touching her like before.
But gripping her waist firmly, eyes locked on hers, his amusement vanishing.
“Teri.” His voice was low, sharp.
She clenched her jaw. “It’s fine.”
His gaze dropped to where she was gripping her ribs, his jaw ticking once before he shook his head.
“No,” he muttered, voice like gritted steel. “It’s not.”
And just like that, the moment snapped.
Gone.
Instead of heat, there was only cold.
Because Raf wasn’t looking at her like she was a game anymore.
He was pissed.
At her? At himself? He wasn’t sure.
What he did know?
She shouldn’t be hurt.
She shouldn’t have had to save him.
She shouldn’t be making him feel like this.
Without another word, he lifted her carefully, ignoring her protests.
Teri groaned. “Oh, come on—”
“Shut up,” he said, tone flat, final.
And for once?
She did.
Because Raffael wasn’t playing anymore.
- Writer
