by K. S. Ruff
Rafael’s eyes heated. He pulled our hips flush so that his body pressed intimately against mine. “I think that’s a brilliant idea.”
I cut a piece of steak and traced his lips with the peppery cream sauce before leaning in for a kiss. We both moaned when we tasted the sauce. I pulled the steak off the fork and slid it in his mouth. Rafael captured my hand and sucked my fingers clean before savoring the meat. I tried the steak while Rafael finished his piece.
I offered him the loaded baked potato. He drew me in for a sour cream infused kiss. Every bite was interspersed with a kiss. Each kiss grew more heated until we finally abandoned the meal.
I layered open mouthed kisses along his jaw… down his neck, shoulders, and chest. I peeked up at him before capturing his nipple between my teeth. Gently, I bit.
With an ominous growl, he lifted my hips and drove. Hard.
My chest thrust forward. My back arched. “Oh, God!”
Rafael drew my breast inside his mouth… bit down… and rolled my hips.
Softly, I moaned. My eyes slid closed when he began to thrust.
Rafael licked and kissed his way to my other breast before drawing it deep inside his mouth. My toes curled when he sucked. He scraped his teeth against my breast, clamped his lips around the nipple, and pulled.
Pleasure rolled all the way from my head to my toes. My hands clenched in his hair. “Don’t stop,” I pleaded. The most exquisite pain pulsed between my legs.
Slowly, he lifted me. Swiftly, he slammed right where I needed him most. He repeated the move, using a bit more force with every stroke.
Rafael captured my lips as I curled around him. His tongue thrust deep inside my mouth, claiming yet another part of me. He coaxed me to that place where pleasure bordered pain. He pushed me over the cliff, following me when I finally screamed his name.
Rafael kissed me tenderly when our bodies finally quieted. “I love making love to you.”
“The feeling’s mutual.” A few seconds passed. “What’s for dessert?”
He smiled. “Spiced chocolate molten lava cake with vanilla ice cream.”
“The ice cream sounds promising.” I nuzzled his neck. I was looking forward to lapping the ice cream off his chest.
The serving trays bounced against the bed as Rafael shifted his weight. He tucked me beneath him. “Dessert can wait.”
My thighs clamped around his waist. “Yes,” I breathed. “A thousand times ‘yes.’”
Rafael took me two more times… once with the ice cream… before we crashed headlong into sleep.
Kari coaxed us out of bed with coffee. We stumbled into the main cabin sometime around three o’clock in the morning so the pilot could land the plane… in England, evidently.
We decided to take a shower while the ground crew fueled the jet. The shower was about half the size of the one we had at home but still plenty big for what Rafael had in mind. I was pretty certain I’d been screwed senseless by the time the plane took off again. We both collapsed onto the bed once we reached cruising altitude, only this time we slept like the dead.
* * * * *
“Portugal?” I gasped. “We’re in Portugal?” As soon as the wheels touched down, the pilot welcomed us to Lisbon, Portugal. I peered out the window. Hopefully, the soft gray sweater, faded blue jeans, and gray suede boots I was wearing were appropriate for the weather. Rafael was wearing black jeans, a gray long-sleeved shirt, and a black leather jacket.
“I want you to see where I’m from.” Suddenly, he looked worried. The jet slowed. The pilot turned toward the terminal.
My heart clenched. Rafael surprised me with a trip to Montana three and a half months ago. He thought the trip would help me heal from Michael’s death. Would Portugal offer Rafael the same opportunity or trigger painful memories? I reached over and squeezed his hand. “Will this be difficult for you?”
Rafael shook his head before peering out the window. I wondered whether he was diverting his eyes intentionally. Rafael’s parents were murdered when he was seventeen. His family was extremely wealthy. Some thugs raped his mother and shot his father after breaking into their house to rob them. His father was dead by the time Rafael arrived home from an outing with his friends. His mother died a few days later in the hospital. Rafael pursued a career with the Portuguese Police Special Operations Group because of that horrific experience. He served in the counter-terrorism unit before working in VIP protection. He’d been protecting people ever since.
I traced a heart in the palm of his hand. “Do you still have a lot of friends here?”
He glanced at his hand before searching my eyes. “A few. Most of my friends serve on the police force.”
The airplane rolled to a stop. The ground crew rolled metal stairs toward the front of the aircraft. I glanced toward the front of the jet. “How long did you serve on the police force?”
Rafael unhooked his seatbelt. “Ten years.”
“You should try to catch up with your friends while we’re here.” I gave him a hug when he drew me to my feet.
“There are a few people I’d like you to meet.” He coaxed my lips into a slow, tender kiss. With a low growl, he grasped my jaw, angled his head, and delved deep inside my mouth. He took his time seducing… teasing… tempting me to surrender everything.
Either he was unaware of the fact the flight and ground crew were waiting for us to disembark or he simply didn’t care. It wasn’t until my nipples hardened, until I shifted so that his erection slid securely between my legs, that he finally released me. “Soon,” he promised. “As soon as we get home.”
“Home?” I inquired a bit dazedly. Rafael’s already high sex drive seemed to be in overdrive ever since he slipped that ring on my finger. I sincerely hoped he wasn’t referring to Virginia, because the need he’d just wrung from me required more immediate attention.
“My flat in Lisbon.” He linked his hand in mine and tugged me toward the door.
“You have a home here?” Why didn’t I know that?
Kari smiled as we neared the front of the aircraft. “I hope you enjoy your stay in Lisbon.” The pilot and co-pilot joined her outside the cockpit.
A smile tugged at my lips. “Thanks for the wonderful flight.”
Rafael shook their hands. “Will you be joining us for the return flight?”
The two pilots exchanged glances. “Definitely.”
“You’re aware of the date?” Rafael was determined to keep me in the dark about when that might be.
They nodded.
“We’ll see you then.” Rafael led me down the stairs. He stopped to speak with the ground crew when we reached the bottom of the stairs.
My eyes widened when I realized he was speaking in Portuguese. I made a mental note to study his native language.
He pulled me close when we resumed walking. “Just making sure the jet will be well cared for.”
My feet stalled when we entered the main terminal. The building was constructed of metal and glass. Crisp, clean lines, metal beams, and highly polished floors reflected the light pouring in through the glass ceiling and walls. “I wasn’t expecting such a contemporary looking airport.”
“You’ll find that Lisbon offers a nice blend of contemporary and historic buildings, a lot like DC.” He led me away from the other travelers. “We don’t need to go through customs. I made sure we were pre-cleared.”
I gaped at him. “Seriously? I didn’t know you could do that.” We crossed through a section of the airport that looked more like a shopping mall than a transportation hub. The place was packed.
Rafael pulled me closer. “This way. My car is parked in the parking garage.”
“You have a car here?” I shook my head. Rafael had a life I knew nothing about. The man I’d just agreed to marry had suddenly become a complete mystery to me.
“Yes. A 2007 Porsche 911 Turbo. I hope the thing still runs.” We stepped through the automatic doors and walked toward the garage. The sky was overcast. The temperature w
as cool but not cold.
I snorted more than laughed. “As if you’d own a car that doesn’t run.”
Rafael chuckled. “My attorney took the car to be serviced last week, so it should be fine. He left the car here earlier this morning.”
My jaw fell slack. “Why would you task your attorney with that?”
Rafael laughed. “Well, he’s more friend than attorney. He manages housekeeping and utilities for the flat and services the car. In exchange, I let him drive the Porsche and loan the flat to some international clients.” He pressed the car shaped key fob dangling from his other hand.
The lights flashed on a sexy metallic silver Porsche. Rafael opened the passenger door. He held my hand as I sank into the luxurious leather seat. “This car is gorgeous.”
He folded himself into the driver’s seat. “And really fun to drive.” He backed out of the parking space and idled at the entrance to the garage. A number of cars drove by before Rafael merged into traffic. Once we exited the airport, he hit the accelerator and shifted. Hard.
My breath caught when the sudden speed slammed me back into the seat. “What are you doing?” I clutched both sides of the seat.
Rafael shifted again. “Don’t worry, everyone drives like a madman in Lisbon.”
I glanced at the speedometer. He was pushing one hundred forty-five kilometers per hour. My chest was pounding. Hard. “We’re going to die.”
Rafael laughed. “We’re not going to die. Do you want to eat breakfast, sleep for a while, or go sightseeing?”
“Must. Have. Food,” I panted dramatically. “You burned far too many calories off of me.”
He grinned. “Food it is then.”
I peered out the window, trying to absorb the city. The buildings surrounding us were rather contemporary, but white washed buildings with red clay roofs dotted a nearby hillside. An old stone castle rose above it all.
Rafael followed my gaze. “Castelo de São Jorge.”
I was so immersed in the city that I could only nod.
Rafael turned onto a wide avenue that reminded me of the Champs Elysees. “This is the Avenida da Liberdade. My flat is just a few blocks up, on one of the side streets.”
I ignored the contemporary buildings and the high end stores, intrigued by the older, more historic buildings. The architecture was eclectic, boasting Moorish, Romanesque, Baroque, Renaissance, and Neoclassical designs. “What a fascinating city.”
Rafael’s smile widened. “I couldn’t agree more.” He came to an abrupt stop when he saw a parking space opening up.
I gaped at the sidewalk. Instead of concrete, black and white mosaic tiles formed an elegant design I felt hesitant to walk on. “Are all of the sidewalks like this?”
Rafael helped me from the car. “Pretty much.” He linked his arm with mine as we began walking.
I shook my head in disbelief. “I cannot imagine the work or the man power involved in laying all those tiny tiles.” Some of the tiles had settled unevenly so they poked up out of the ground, digging into my shoes. “How do women navigate this sidewalk in heels?”
“I’ve seen a lot of people fall. Lisbon has some very steep hills, and these tiles can be very slick when it rains.” Rafael ushered me inside the Confeitaria Nacional. He parked me at a table near the door. “You stay here. I’ll order.”
I glanced at the bakery counter where a mob of people were placing orders. Slowly, I nodded.
He kissed my cheek. “Do not leave this bakery.”
I smiled while drawing a cross over my heart.
Rafael entered the fray. Ten minutes later, he deposited three pastry bags, two disposable coffee cups, and two small ceramic cups onto the table. He sat in the chair across from me. “I ordered the pastries and two large cappuccinos to go, but I thought you might like to try the bica before we leave.”
I eyed the rich brown concoction. “I assume bica means coffee.”
“More like espresso.” Rafael took a sip and sighed appreciatively. “Remember the coffee we drank in the café along the Champs Elysees?”
I nodded.
His eyes sparkled. “This is even better than that.”
“Impossible.” I took a highly skeptical sip. Bica had a strong, smoky taste, but it lacked the bitter aftertaste that taints expresso. I took another sip. The warm, dark elixir felt creamy and smooth when it slid over my tongue. I couldn’t help feeling a little robbed. In two sips, the bica was gone. “This is better than sex.”
The couple next to us snickered.
Rafael and I exchanged glances. He burst out laughing.
We gathered the cappuccinos and pastry bags before scampering outside. “Clearly they speak English.”
Rafael juggled the pastry bags and his coffee cup so he could help me into the car. “Most people do around here. And, just so you know, I’ll be proving that statement wrong just as soon as we eat breakfast.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Tell me about your apartment. Why do you still maintain a place here?”
He handed me the pastry bags, climbed into the driver’s seat, and eased into traffic. “I purchased it outright after selling my parents’ house. I really like this area. It’s close to cafés and restaurants but somewhat insulated from the nightlife and noise that is common in some of the more popular bairros. I kept long, odd hours when I was working for the police force, so I needed a place quiet enough to sleep day or night. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be working for Michael when I left; and even after I opened the security firm in DC, I was certain I’d be returning here intermittently.”
Rafael parked beneath a white historic building with tall windows and black wrought iron balconies. “I need to stop briefly on the first floor before we head up to the apartment.” We grabbed the pastry bags and rode the elevator to the main lobby.
“Senhor Garcia!” The doorman boisterously exclaimed. He met us halfway across the lobby, abandoning the front door entirely.
Rafael shifted the cappuccino into his left hand so he could shake the man’s hand. “Bom dia, Matias. Este é o meu noiva, Senhorita Stone. I’m afraid she doesn’t speak Portuguese.”
The doorman beamed. “Welcome to Lisboa, Senhorita Stone.”
“Thank you. I look forward to exploring your city.” I should have studied Portuguese when Rafael and I first began dating. I was going to have to download some books to my Kindle so I could at least learn the basics... after Rafael proved sex was better than bica, of course. Given how incredible the bica tasted, that could take a while.
He gently squeezed my hand before resuming his discussion with Rafael. “Senhor Brantuas stopped by last night to ensure everything is in order, but you will inform me if you need anything?”
Rafael smiled. “Certainly.” He handed Matias one of the pastry bags.
Matias peeked inside the bag. “Bolo Rei e pastel de nata?” He patted his stomach. “It is good to have you back.”
Rafael patted him on the back. “It’s good to be back.” We walked back to the elevator. Rafael slid a card through a magnetic device rather than pushing a button when we entered the elevator this time.
I waited for the elevator doors to close. “You regularly plied the doorman with decadent pastries when you lived here, didn’t you?”
Rafael chuckled. “Matias is very good at keeping unwanted guests away.”
I eyed the plastic card he was holding. “You live in the penthouse, I presume?”
His eyes sparked with amusement. “You’re quite the sleuth.”
The elevator opened into a private lobby with a dark slate floor and charcoal walls. The room held three large tropical plants. Contemporary oil paintings in stark white, silver, gray, and black glowed beneath strategically placed lights. Two black leather chairs flanked a small table holding a white chunk of marble. The far wall featured a massive wall fountain. The black marble slab was housed inside a brushed steel frame. Hidden lights made the water shimmer as it trickled down the roughly hewn slab. “I want one of those.”
Rafael swiped the card in the door before keying a code. He eyed the marble slab. “Where would you hang it?”
“In my bedroom, assuming I could find one in brown. I really like how soothing it sounds.”
Rafael pushed the door open. Still balancing his cappuccino and the two remaining pastry bags, he pulled me into his arms. “Welcome to your new home, my love.” He kissed me passionately before stepping inside the flat. He strode into the kitchen, grabbed some plates and silverware, and joined me at the counter. He folded his jacket over the back of his chair.
I settled onto a bar stool while Rafael pulled pastries from the bags. Black cupboards, black marble countertops, stainless steel appliances, a long stainless steel sink, and recessed lighting lent the kitchen a decidedly masculine feel.
I looked at the dining room. The far wall held a black, contemporary bar. The wall above the bar was lined with glass shelves where a variety of brandy snifters, wine, shot, rocks, beer, and martini glasses were glowing beneath recessed lights. The black dining room table and chairs were tall and anchored above a contemporary area rug in swirling strips of black, white, and gray. Black hard wood floors and charcoal walls framed the entire open concept flat.
I slid off the stool, unable to resist the pull of the living room. The black leather couch and chairs were anchored around a plush white rug. I tugged my boots and socks off so I could step on the rug. The soft fibers tickled my toes. A large flat screen television hung on the wall to my right. Two sets of French doors opened onto two separate balconies directly in front of me. I unlatched two of the doors and stepped out onto the balcony. This side of the building faced a large courtyard. I stepped back inside so I could continue exploring the flat.
“I’m brewing more coffee,” Rafael announced from the kitchen.
I started toward him. Black and white photographs lined the wall behind the couch. I stopped to check them out. “What is this?” I pointed to a picture where black and white mosaic tiles formed a dizzying display of waves.
He joined me in front of the picture. “That’s the pavement in front of Rossio Square.”
