“Raphael.” How could he have her on the brink of coming and tears at the same time?
He tucked her panties into his pocket, all the while holding her captive with his gaze. The need in his expression stole her breath, made her light-headed. “You know me, Macy. You know the me that matters. The me that burns for you. The me that craves you with every fiber of my being.”
Tears stung her eyes, her heart and body overflowing because of him, for him. “Raphael.”
“You have no idea the power you have over me, Macy. You’re my food, my drug. My everything.” Holding her thighs open, he leaned forward to give her an intimate kiss. The first warm stroke of his tongue over her super-sensitive flesh had her keening from the exquisite shock of sensation.
Raphael groaned deeply, pulling her ass to the edge of the counter, balancing her precariously so that he had better access to all her intimate parts. Barely mindful of her stilettos, Macy carefully balanced her feet on his shoulders, as open as she could be for him. It was more than enough as he plundered her drenched folds with his lips and teeth and tongue, making darting sweeps to her smaller puckered opening before returning to lap her folds and teasingly circling her clit.
He was a master, a maestro who thoroughly enjoyed his work as he drew musical moans and percussive pants from her finely tuned body. She cried out again, her hands flailing wildly as she sought contact with something, anything to help her stay grounded. Her fingers sank into the thickness of his unruly hair as her legs spread wider of their own volition. Her hips rose and fell involuntarily as she shamelessly lifted her core to his mouth in a greedy quest for more, for everything. The contrast of cool granite and hot tongue ignited her desire, catapulting her up to the pinnacle of pleasure.
Raphael demonstrated that he hadn’t forgotten a thing about her body, bringing her down with light strokes of his tongue before drawing her up again. All at once he grabbed her wrists, pinning her hands to her sides as he thrust deep inside her with firm strokes of his tongue. The sensation of being bound, held captive by his will and his sensual demand sent her over the edge. She came hard, bowing off the counter, his name torn from her throat on a keening cry.
CHAPTER SIX
Raphael scooped Macy up and searched for her bedroom. Luckily there weren’t many doors to choose from, and he quickly found the master.
Gently, he settled her onto the bed, then began to remove her remaining clothes. He slipped off her shoes, then took his time unclipping her stockings from the garters. Slowly he rolled her stockings down each shapely leg, stopping every so often to press little licking kisses to her skin.
Her eyes fluttered open as he reached for the metal fasteners that held the front of teal-colored brocaded bra closed. “You’re pure magic,” she told him, sighing with evident relief as he freed her breasts from the confining material.
“Not magic, just inspired.” For the first time in eight years, he gazed down at her nude body. She was breathtaking. Mesmerized, he reached out to glide his fingertips over her, not daring more than the light touch. The pale rose of her nipples, small bullet points topping the darker rose of her areolas, the generous handfuls of her breasts. Her pale soft skin, sloping from her ribs down to the gentle swell of her belly and the gorgeous curves of her hips. Macy had an hourglass figure, a bombshell form, the physique of a goddess.
Her hands fluttered at her sides, as if she fought the urge to cover herself. “Say something.”
“You’ve scrambled my brain, sweet Macy,” he said honestly. “You’re even more beautiful than I remembered.” He brushed his thumb across one distended nipple. “So very beautiful. I can hardly wait for the second round.”
“I want you, Raffie,” she said plainly. “I want you inside me, so you can feel as good as I do right now. But you’ve worn me out. I don’t know if I have the energy to do more than lie here right now. I think I might need a minute or forty to recover.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he told her, pleased that she wanted to please him, even as wrung out as she was. “Right now all I want you to do is lie there. I’ll take care of us both.”
* * *
Macy’s breath caught as she watched Raphael remove his tie and shed his shirt and undershirt, stripping away the civilized man of industry, revealing the hardened body of a warrior. The corded muscles of his arms, the indentation of his abs. It may have been an injury and a couple of years since he’d been in a fight, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at him.
“Your nipples just got harder,” he said, his voice low and husky. “I think someone really likes what she sees.”
“Yes,” she tried to say, but the word wouldn’t escape the want thickening in her throat. She swallowed, moistened her lips, tried again. “I’m sure other women have told you how gorgeous you are.”
“The only woman that matters is you.” He trailed his fingers up her ribcage, up the valley between her breasts. Goosebumps broke out over her skin, her breath coming in short gasps as he stroked over her collarbone, up her neck to her lips.
She wanted to say something important, profound, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she pressed her face against his hand, physically naked and emotionally bare. Her earlier sense of calm faded, replaced by a growing hunger. Desire and something deeper gripped her in a vise, a pressure that threatened to shatter her.
He leaned over her, giving her a nearly chaste kiss. The sweetness of the kiss was eclipsed by his nimble fingers on her nipples, giving them a pinch on the razor’s edge of pain. She cried out, every sense heightened, her nerve endings stretched tight.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?”
“Yes.” Tears spiked her lashes, blurring her vision. “I need you Raphael. Please, I need you so bad.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, and for a moment she feared that she’d revealed too much in her tone. That need—her need for him, his for her—had put distance between them before, eight long years of distance. Now that he was back, now that they had this, she didn’t want to push him away again.
She lifted her hips. “I need you inside me,” she said, hoping he’d believe she’d meant that all along.
He opened his eyes, the stark hunger in his gaze stunning her. The hunger mixed with a strange vulnerability she only recognized because she’d seen it before with him, in him. She reached for him, tangling her fingers with his. “Raphael, please. Don’t make us wait anymore. It’s too much.”
He pulled several condom packets out of his pocket before shedding the rest of his clothing. He turned back to her and she got her first good look at this older, more intense Raphael, got a good look at just how much he wanted her.
“Uhm … are you bigger there too?”
He chuckled, the sound strained as he joined her on the bed. “We’ll fit together, sweetheart, as well as we always have. I’ll make sure of it.”
Her earlier orgasm had primed her completely. She didn’t think she could be more ready but Raphael proved her wrong as he joined her on the bed. He began to with slow, drugging kisses, starting at her forehead and leaving no patch of skin unclaimed by his mouth. Behind her ears, her chin, the hollow of her throat, the bend of her elbow, the webbing between her fingers—with each kiss he exorcised the spirits of lovers past until only he remained, filling up all her empty spaces and binding her to him forever.
By the time he rolled a condom on, her entire body hummed with the need to have him inside her. Her hips rose involuntarily, her movements limited but inexorable. She wanted him inside her.
Now.
He fit the tip of his erection to her entrance. “Wrap your legs around me, Mace,” he ordered, then pushed into her.
She stopped breathing as he filled her in one long, slow, toe-curling glide. He threw back his head, the tendons of his neck standing out, his body rigid as her sheath welcomed him. “God, Macy,” he groaned. “Good, so damn good. Missed you so damn much.”
She felt the mattress dip as he dug his knees into bedding, his han
ds planted on either side of her head. Desire ignited an inferno inside her as she watched him dance between being restraint and being unchained, between holding on and letting go, calling a similar response from her. She surrendered to it, surrendered to Raphael, to his mastery and his skill and his care, knowing that he’d catch her when she fell.
Keeping her gaze locked to his, she watched the passion play across his beautiful features, watched him bite his lip as he slowly withdrew and then just as slowly reentered her. He repeated the exquisite movement, stealing her breath each time. She wrapped her arms and legs tighter about him, moving against him, with him, cradling him with her body, giving him permission to let go. Let go he did, sinking down onto his elbows, molding his body to hers. He drove into her with sensual precision, speeding them both toward the peak of pleasure. Her orgasm ambushed her a heartbeat later. She came with a keening cry, caught up in a white-hot ecstasy that rocketed her up and out into a sea of transcendental delight. A heartbeat later Raphael shouted, slamming into her once, twice, three times before he came inside her still-spasming sheath.
* * *
Raphael had never come so hard or so long in his life. For a long moment he remained locked in place, hands tightly gripping the mattress as he pulsed deep inside Macy’s welcoming heat. The blissful expression she wore called to everything male in him, making him want to roar with satisfaction.
Shaken, he got up to get rid of the condom and clean himself up in the en suite bathroom. Wetting a washcloth, he returned to the bed to find Macy where he’d left her languidly sprawled in the center of the bed, eyes closed with a small smile curving her kiss-swollen lips.
Awed by her and her response, he tended to her. “Come back to me, angel,” he murmured, cradling her close. “Come on back now.”
She blinked at him, awareness returning slowly as she stretched like a kitten in his embrace. “Raphael,” she breathed, “that was … that was—”
“Mind-blowing. Incredible.” Unable to help himself, he kissed her softly, tasting her fully. “Beautiful.”
“Yeah. All of that.” She gave a soft laugh as she gazed up at him. “I think you killed me with orgasms. Pretty sure I heard angels singing at one point.”
“That was all you,” he said, turning them so she straddled his lap. “Music to my ears.”
She pressed a light kiss to his shoulder. “When can we do it again?”
His cock jerked at the thought of a repeat performance. “It’s still early yet. Do you think you’ll be up for more after dinner?”
“I don’t know. What about tomorrow?” she asked, then bit her bottom lip. “Will we have a tomorrow?”
Her uncertainty cut at him. He drew her closer, pressing his lips to the curve of her neck. “We’ll have tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that.”
He knew he shouldn’t promise something he wasn’t sure he was capable of delivering. But if his surging dick was any indication, he hadn’t had his fill of Macy Lovelace yet. If he was honest with himself, he knew he never would. He and Macy had belonged to each other since they were twelve. She was his, and he’d be damned if he’d let her share this with any other man ever again.
“Okay,” she said, and for a moment he wondered if he’d claimed her aloud. But she dropped her gaze, her hands knotted together between them. “Before we go any further, there’s something that I need to tell you.”
“That sounds serious.”
She pulled away to look at him, the brilliant green of her eyes dull with worry. “It is.”
“Maybe we should go see what we can do about dinner. You can tell me while we’re eating.”
She slid off him, then padded over to the bathroom. After a moment, she returned, wearing a pale green robe that clung to her curves and had him hungry for other things besides food. Instead, he found his boxers, put them on, then followed her to the kitchen.
She directed him to her wine fridge, and he removed and uncorked a bottle of red while she busied herself with preparing the chicken marsala. Unease still slithered through him. What did she need to tell him that would cause her to be so nervous, and to make her avoid his gaze?
“Is there someone else?”
“What?”
“You said you hadn’t been with anyone since last year. That wasn’t true?” Not that it mattered. Anyone in her life right now besides him was on his way out of her life. He’d make sure of that.
“No. I mean yes.” She jumped when the microwave timer beeped. “I mean, there’s no one else. Not since last year, like I said.”
“Good.” He pressed a glass of wine into her hand. “Are you worried about being with me? I’ve always practiced safe sex. If you want me to give you a copy of my medical records, I will. I should have thought of that already.”
“Thank you for telling me, but no, I’m not thinking about that right now.” She took a gulp of her wine, then another before turning back to the cooktop. “Will you grab a couple of plates from that cabinet for me?”
“Sure.” He did as she directed, then watched her plate the chicken cutlets and vegetables. He carried the plates to the small dining set on the other side of the island while she grabbed the bottle of wine and their glasses before joining him.
As delicious as the food was, he was unable to find his appetite. Macy seemed to have the same problem, pushing bites of food around her plate instead of eating. Finally, he pushed his plate away. “Talk to me, Macy.”
She reached up a hand to close the lapels of her robe more securely. That she sought to shield herself from him told him clearly that he wouldn’t like whatever it was that she needed to tell him.
“Don’t back away from me now, Mace,” he demanded, reaching out to snag her hand. “Not after what we just shared. Okay?”
She stared at their hands, at his thumb brushing over the pulse point on her wrist. “O-okay.”
For a long moment, she remained silent. Then she drew in a lungful of air as if fortifying herself before looking up at him, her gaze sad and uncertain. “Do you know why I got on that plane to Paris?”
“Yes.” He brushed a fiery curl back from her forehead. “You wanted to study at the only Le Cordon Bleu that mattered. It was what you’d dreamed of doing since we were kids. You had to go.”
“That was the reason at the beginning,” she said in agreement. “That wasn’t the reason at the end.”
The gravity of the inflection in her tone and the heaviness of her gaze gave him pause. He had to ask the question, but a part of him already dreaded the answer. “Then why?”
She gave up all pretense of eating and ran her free hand down one pale thigh. Despite the pleasure they’d shared, or maybe because of it, his body hardened with need and want. He was in the process of reaching for her with the intent of hauling her into his lap when her soft words stopped him cold. “Because you didn’t want me.”
He opened his mouth to protest but she pinned him with that soul-deep gaze, the one that always saw through his bullshit. He knew then that nothing he’d done in the last week to woo her would be as important as what happened in the next few minutes.
“Macy,” he said, surprised when his voice cracked like it had when he was thirteen. “I wanted you. The problem was that I wanted you too much.”
“I know.” She nodded in understanding. “You may not remember, but I do.”
“Remember what?”
“How you swore that you’d never be like your father. That you’d never give your heart so completely to a woman that you’d lose yourself and your will to live without her.”
Ice slashed through his veins. He remembered shouting that late one night about three weeks after his father’s funeral. He hadn’t wanted to feel pain or grief, hadn’t wanted to feel anything other than Macy’s body wrapped around his. However, that night it had hit him. Though he’d been emotionally orphaned a decade earlier, the reality of losing his last family member had crashed down on him like an avalanche. Any hope he’d harbored that h
is father would shake off his lethargy and wake up and see him, see how much he’d needed him, had died along with the man.
“That was the night I realized it was over,” he told her in a tight voice. “Any dream I’d had of reconciling with my father, every deeply buried hope that he’d acknowledge me and show me some tiny scrap of fucking affection, died a brutal death that night.”
He tightened his grip on her hand. “My parents abandoned me because they loved each other so much there was nothing left over for their own son. I hated them both for that, but I hated him more because he had to know that I was hurting just as much as he was after Mom died. I hated that I could feel that much hate for someone who treated me with so much indifference.”
He reached out then, covering her hand on her knee with his own. “So you’re right when you say that I vowed to never be like my father. But you’re wrong—wholly and completely wrong—if you think I didn’t want you.”
Her gaze dropped to their hands. “Maybe you did,” she admitted, her voice a breath above a whisper. “I just don’t believe it was the same way I wanted you, especially when you didn’t ask me to stay. When we parted ways at the airport, it felt like … it felt like good-bye.”
He caught her chin with his free hand, tilting her head up so he could see her beautiful summer-green eyes. How had he ever thought he could stay away from her? “It wasn’t good-bye.”
“I know that. Now.”
“How did you feel about me, Macy?”
She shook her head, her flaming waves cascading down her back. “I-I’d rather not say,” she stammered out. “It was a long time ago.”
Unable to help himself, Raphael leaned forward, nuzzling the slender column of her neck, nibbling along her collarbone. “If it’s all in the past, then why not say? And if it’s something you think you could feel here and now, I want to hear it.”
Her chest rose and fell on a deep breath that captured all of his attention. “We’ve always been able to trust each other, Macy,” he whispered against the pulse beating wildly at the base of her throat. “We’ve always been safe with each other. You’ve trusted me with your hopes and dreams. You’ve trusted me with your body. Don’t you think you can trust me with your secrets too?”
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