Chapter 19 #2
“I think removing financial pressure accomplishes that.”
The room fell quiet for a moment. I hated that he wasn’t wrong. I hated that he saw it so clearly. I hated that it even further complicated the feelings I had for him. How could this be anything when the imbalance between us was so great?
“I’m not helpless,” I said more softly.
“I am aware.”
“I don’t want to be kept.”
His gaze softened in a way that made my throat tighten.
“I am not keeping you,” he said quietly. “I am standing beside you.”
The distinction mattered. He reached, but did not take my hand. He just rested his fingers near mine.
“You are not just an employee,” he repeated. “You are my wife.”
The word still startled me.
“All the more reason,” he added gently, “for you to accept support without believing it diminishes you.”
I looked down at my hands for a moment, where the plain gold band sparkled in the dim light.
Then I shrugged, a small surrender. “Fine,” I said. “Temporarily.”
His shoulders eased slightly.
“Temporarily,” he agreed.
I pointed my fork at him.
“If you start calling it a stipend, I’m leaving.”
He almost smiled.
“Noted, Ma Belle.”
And I hated how much I loved the way he said it. Because every time he did, it felt less like an arrangement. And more like something that might actually last. This was such a bad idea, but this man was becoming irresistible.
After dinner, we turned on a movie, just as we had the night before. I tucked my good leg carefully beneath me as I got comfortable.
Noticing my water bottle was empty, he got up to fill it.
When he returned, he sat close enough that our thighs touched.
Close enough that I could feel the steady heat of him through the thin fabric of his shirt.
He didn’t say anything at first. He just reached for me.
His arm slid around my shoulders and drew me in until my back rested against his chest. His other hand settled at my waist, broad and warm and deliberate.
I went still. His mouth brushed the side of my temple.
“You are tense,” he murmured.
“Am not.”
His hand moved slightly, fingers splaying at my hip.
“You are.”
His steadiness was what undid me. He didn’t rush.
Didn’t demand. Didn’t press for escalation.
He simply held me like he had already decided I belonged there.
He felt so good. I wasn’t sure what the answer was.
I needed this job, but this seemed to blur those lines.
But we were married . . . real or not, that was something I guessed.
My hand drifted to his forearm, tracing lightly over muscle and heat and skin. He exhaled slowly, the sound low in his chest.
The movie started playing, but neither of us watched it. I turned slightly to look at him. He was already watching me. His thumb brushed along my jaw, slow and thoughtful.
“Tell me to stop,” he said quietly.
“Don’t tell me what to do.” I leaned in.
The kiss started softly. Exploratory in a way that felt almost reverent.
He deepened it gradually, his hand sliding from my waist to my lower back, pulling me closer until the space between us disappeared entirely.
My fingers found the collar of his shirt, fisting there as heat unfurled low and steady through me.
Every touch felt magnified.
His mouth moved from my lips to the curve of my neck, and I arched into him without meaning to.
The couch dipped beneath our shifting weight.
My brace pressed awkwardly against the cushions, but I didn’t care.
I only cared about the way his hand traced deliberate lines over my skin, the way he whispered my name like it meant something important.
The world narrowed to the sensation of breath and skin and the unmistakable realization that this was no longer theoretical.
His hands grew bolder as he toyed with the hem of my shirt.
This was a bad idea. I knew that, but I was done caring.
I was also done with being careful. I was not a careful person, so when he pulled back, eyes asking permission, I was done.
I pulled my shirt over my head as a little huff of air left him.
He stared at me for a long moment, mouth soft and open, eyes wide. It was almost as if he was in awe. Then a smile curls his lips that had heat curling deep inside of me.
His large hand cupped my breast over my bra. That was still too much fabric between us. If I was going to finally give in to this man, I did not want some over-the-bra action. But then he lowered his mouth and sucked the peak of my nipple into his mouth through my cotton bra.
“Raph,” I moaned.
He pulled back to look at me, and I already missed his mouth. I couldn’t read his expression, but I didn’t care. I needed him.
He moved to kneeling before me and kissed me. This kiss was full of the passion I had been craving. His mouth took over, pushing his tongue into my mouth as his hand played with my nipples.
Then, as his kiss started moving lower, so did his hands. He was sucking on my neck and running his hand along the waistband of my shorts. I spread my legs wide as he wrapped his arms around me and held me close.
I had never been with a man like him before. He was big and broad and hairy, and I can’t imagine anything more sexy than him. That was until he pulled back again to look at me. The look in his eyes was feral, like the beast he was.
He maintained eye contact, monitoring me for the slightest hint I wanted to stop. He would get nothing like that from me. I wanted more. I wanted it all. If I were going to give in to this, we might as well do it with a bang.
Then he tugged at the waistband of my shorts, and I shifted my weight as he carefully slid them down my leg. They did get hung up on my brace, but he carefully removed them.
I expected him to kiss me again and maybe fuck me, but instead he kissed lower down my throat, chest, and over the mound of my belly before he pressed a kiss to my inner thigh.
I was going to die from need. That was all there was to it. I was going to spontaneously combust from this man’s thorough sexiness.
He sat back on his heels and just looked at me. He traced a finger down my seam before pushing in a thick finger.
A low growl emanated from him. That should not be as sexy as it was, but then his finger slipped up and circled my clit. My head dropped back as I moaned. Before I could look at him again, he held me open and pressed a kiss to my clit.
“Oh, fuck,” I moaned as I grabbed a handful of his short dark hair.
Another low rumble sound from this man as he began to lick me from my opening all the way to my clit.
My release was already shimmering right beneath the surface. I’d wanted this for longer than I cared to admit. But I needed more. I needed to be filled.
It was as if he could read my mind and slid one, then two, of his thick fingers inside. He continued to work his finger in and out as he sucked my clit into his mouth.
That was it. I combusted. My orgasm came shooting through me as he held me open and devoured me. When I was done, he came up and held me close and kissed me like I was something precious. I could get used to this.
When it was over, we stayed there for a moment, tangled and breathless, the room quiet except for the low hum of the television.
He rested his forehead against mine.
“You’re so beautiful when you come,” he murmured.
I smiled faintly.
He slid my shorts back up my legs before standing, adjusting his shirt, and then turning back toward me.
Without asking, he slipped one arm behind my back and the other beneath my knees.
“Raphael—”
“You are not walking upstairs.”
I laughed softly as he lifted me, the steady strength of him grounding in a way that made my chest ache.
He carried me up the stairs slowly, careful of my knee, careful of the brace, careful of me.
My arms looped around his neck.
I pressed a soft kiss just beneath his ear.
“You’re very bossy,” I whispered.
“And you like it,” he replied calmly.
And I did. The walls were crashing down. For good or bad, for me, they were gone. And neither of us was pretending anymore.