Rake’s Redemption Novel – Do you think I wasn’t hurting, too? I breathe, looking deep into the depths of his green gaze. “You destroyed me. You broke me.” “You’re the one who cheated, Bailey,” he grits out, voice hoarse. “I would have stayed faithful to you until the day I died.” I shouldn’t take his words; I should call him out on the truth right now. “You have made me see the looks of envy from the other girls. Because you’re all mine.” I cried, “I was medicined. When I came to, I was being rapeheld. I heard you coming into the room—I thought you were there to save me. But. You. Left. Me.” I said through my tears. “Is after all that. You slept with the girl who drugged me. And you flaunted it in front of me.” “Bailey,” he whispered, the one word so broken, so raw, and so filled with pain that I wanted to hold him, but I didn’t. Because this time, I need to protect myself. I ran. And then, I buried my love.
Baily “I DON’T think it’s too much to ask for you to wear a shirt when you’re walking around the house,” I say with my hands on my hips. Like seriously, there is only so much I can take. “No one’s even here, what’s the fuckin’ problem?” he asks, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. “I’m here,” I point out. He closes the fridge and steps closer to me, cornering me against the countertop. “What’s the problem, Bailey?” I swallow. “N-nothing is the problem. You don’t see me walking around half-undressed. It’s common courtesy!” He opens the bottle and takes a sip. All I can do is stare at his throat, his ripped arms, and his chest as I wait for him to continue. “It’s not like I’m walking around without any pants on,” he says after he swallows a mouthful and puts the lid back on. No, he’s wearing pants. Jeans, in fact. Jeans that should be freaking illegal.
Low on his hips, the top button undone. “Rake, I . . .” He lowers his head. “Bailey, what’s the real problem here? Are you as turned on as I am? Because I’ve been walking around hard ever since I fuckin’ saw you again, so if I have to suffer, then so do you.” “Wait . . . what?” I groan. “Pretty sure we had a silent rule not to bring trash like that up around each other.” Rake exhales, then moves close enough to bury his face in my hair. “Bailey. Do you think it’s easy for me to see you after everything we had and not be able to touch you? I want to bang you, punish you, and worship you at the same time. I want to make you hurt; I want to take away your pain. I want you to feel what I felt when I lost you, and I want to save you, all at the same time.” “Do you think I wasn’t hurting, too?” I breathe, looking deep into the depths of his green gaze. “You destroyed me. You broke me.” “You’re the one who cheated, Bailey,” he grits out, voice hoarse. “I would have stayed faithful to you until the day I died.” I shouldn’t take his words; I should call him out on the truth right now, but I don’t.
Maybe it makes me a coward, I don’t know, but I do know that when everything comes out, it’s going to be worse than it is now. Rake will go from hating me to hating himself, and maybe I’m a sucker, maybe I love him more than I love myself, because I think I’d prefer that he hated me. Does that make me weak? Or strong? I don’t know. He needs to know the truth, I know. There is no right time or right way to say this though, but it does need to be said. It’s long overdue. “So would have I,” I say with such bitterness that he tilts his head and searches my eyes. “I thought we said we wouldn’t touch the past.” His abs touch my stomach. His lips move close to mine but not touching. His eyes still search. I don’t know what they’re looking for, or whether he will find it. He closes the space between us, his lips pressing over mine. I want him to bite me deeply, like he used to, but he doesn’t, and I know it’s because he’s waiting for my permission. I give it to him by sucking on his lower lip.
After that, all bets are off. He picks me up and sits me on the counter, while his tongue slips inside my mouth. He pecks me like I’ve never been pecked before, filled with such intensity and passion, but it’s almost as if I can still taste that hint of regret and bitterness. I ignore it. Reaching up, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer. I feel him; I taste him; I remember him. My right hand slides down his back, feeling the muscles there. I stop just above his hips but then let my fingers roam over that too, squeezing his tight globes. Rake starts to peck down my jawline and then my neck. When he hits that spot, I’m ready to beg him to bang me right here, right now. But I don’t. Because I don’t know how I will feel about it afterward. “Rake,” I whisper. “Wait,” he murmurs, continuing across my collarbone. I close my eyes, feeling not thinking.
The pleasure my body wants and the pain my heart is going to have to handle afterward. He pecks up my thighs. “Rake,” I say breathily. He pulls back and looks at me. “Don’t make me stop, Bailey. We need to get each other out of our systems, otherwise the tension is going to drive us fuckin’ insane. I’ll make you feel so good, you have no idea.” His words are like a bucket of ice water being tipped on my head. “ ‘Get each other out of our systems’? Like what, a one-night stand? Bang each other and then pretend it never happened?” I ask, my jaw getting tight. I close my legs and shove my dress down, then fix my bra, covering my breasts from his view. He looks away. “What do you expect from me, Bailey?” “More respect than that,” I snap, placing both of my hands on his chest and pushing. “Move.” “Bailey—” “I said move,” I say between clenched teeth. “Now.” He moves.
I jump down from the countertop and walk to my room. I stop in my tracks when I hear him say, “You fuckin’ broke my heart once, if you think I’ll give you that power again, you’re getting your hopes up.” He has no idea. No idea. And here I am, trying to protect him from the truth. Why? Why am I putting him before myself? Why am I protecting a man who has no trouble throwing what he thinks I did in my face over and over again? I spin around and stalk back toward him. “You know what? Let’s get this all out in the open.” “Let’s,” he says, looking down on me. “We had a fight, like we always did. You went to some fuckin’ party to get back at me and banged the first guy who looked your way, didn’t you?” At this point, I’m seeing red. I’m seething.
No, I’m bleeding. Can’t he see the blood practically dripping from every ounce of my being? I’m transported back to that night seven years ago. The night that changed everything. I shake my hips, letting the ruffles from my skirt swivel around me. Christa hands me another drink. “This is my last one,” I tell her over the music. I need to get back to Adam, because I know he’s probably searching for me right now. In an act of rebellion after Adam and I had a fight, I decided to take up Christa’s offer on coming to this party, but I didn’t intend to stay long. I didn’t like going anywhere without Adam, to be honest; no matter how needy that made me sound, it was the truth. Not only did he make me feel safe, but he’s also my best friend. How many girls are lucky enough to say the same? “You never do anything fun.” Christa pouts. “It’s like you’re a married woman.”
My lips tighten. She doesn’t know me well enough to make that evaluation, but I also didn’t like this wanker judging me. We weren’t good friends or anything, more like acquaintances. “One that everyone is jealous of,” I throw out there. Everyone wanted to be Adam and me; it wasn’t a secret. I’ve seen the looks of envy from the other girls. Adam is the hottest boy in school, and he’s all mine. Christa’s expression drops for a second, before it becomes a mask. I know in this moment I shouldn’t have come here tonight. I was being stupid to even consider it. I throw back the rest of my drink, wiping my mouth with my hand, and pull out my phone and turn it on, about to call Adam to come and pick me up. But then, suddenly, I don’t feel so well. “Christa,” I mumble. “Can you get me some water, please?” “Sure,” she says, leaving me alone on the upstairs balcony of the house. How much did I have to drink? I suddenly feel drunk, too drunk for what I’d consumed tonight. I fumble with my phone but have difficulty getting my fingers to work. What? “A-Adam,” I whisper to myself. Everything goes black.
When I come to, it’s like I’m in a horror movie. My vision is blurred and my head is dizzy. I’m on my back on a bed. I stare at the ceiling. There are cracks on there. I don’t know why I focus on those, but I do. A man is on top of me. I try to scream, but nothing comes out. I struggle. I feel nauseous. I feel weak. Through the loud noise, the buzzing in my head, I hear his voice, and I smile. Adam has come to save me. He will make everything better. Only he doesn’t. Instead, he just leaves me to my inferno.
This is it. I have to tell him now. What he thinks he knows. “We fought, yes. I went to a party, yes. I had about two drinks, and then I was going to call you to come pick me up. I didn’t want to be there; I wanted to be with you.” I take a deep breath, knowing the next part was going to be extremely hard to get out. Rake watches me expectantly, his expression giving away nothing. “Christa gave me the drinks,” I continue. “You know I didn’t know her well. She seemed like a fun girl, although I did see her checking you out, but then, all the girls did.” I laugh without humor. “I was drugged, Adam. Roofied. I blacked out and when I came to, I was being raped. I was completely out of it. When I heard you coming into the room—I thought you were there to save me. But. You. Left. Me.” I hit his chest with my hand. “You left me! You were supposed to save me! Why didn’t you save me?”
Tears start to drip down my cheeks, and finally I allow them to fall. I don’t hide them; I don’t suppress them; I embrace them. I accept them. These tears, they are me, my pain. A symbol of my suffering. And as I let them drip, I set myself free, a weight lifted at last. I can actually feel the moment the pain shifts from me to him. His expression crumbles, brows furrowing. His eyes fill with pain, an expression of all-consuming horror spreading over his handsome face. He feels it. He rubs his chest with his palm. Yeah, he feels it. I didn’t want to tell him, I didn’t, but now it’s done. He knows. The thing is, no matter what, he knows one fact about me. One fact that was always true, from the day he met me, to the day I’ll die. I never lie. “And the worst part,” I say through my tears. “Is after all that. You slept with the girl who drugged me. And you flaunted it in front of me.” “Bailey,” he whispers, the one word so broken, so raw, and so filled with pain that I want to hold him, but I don’t. Because this time, I need to protect myself. I run to my room and lock the door behind me. Then, I bury my face in my pillow and simply cry.