Chapter 22 Aurora
Aurora
Rafael Fairfax is a cuddler.
I wriggle, trying to stretch my legs, but they’re pinned in place by the equivalent of a giant lazy cat, languishing its long limbs all over me.
I settle back into his grasp instead, my arse grazing against his semi-hard dick as he plays big spoon behind me. He mumbles something incoherent in his sleep before tightening his arms around me and nuzzling his face into my hair.
It’s not like I invited him to sleep over. Or expected him to be so . . . snuggly. But after the epic sex where, quite frankly, I thought I might actually pass out from coming so hard, he’d kissed me the same way he did on my doorstep.
Soft, tender, unhurried.
I’d kissed him back for far too long, losing myself in the fantasy of him actually being a man I like.
I still can’t get over how he – the man who, Dove told me, breaks out in hives at anything remotely risky – not only seemed happy to fuck me without a condom but did it with even more enthusiasm than when he was wearing one.
The guy is a walking contradiction. Rude to me one minute, complimenting me as we dance the next. Talking about me like I’m beneath him. Then fucking me beneath him and looking feral while doing it.
The many confusing layers of Rafael Fairfax, doing a stellar job of keeping you wondering which one is the real him. And if that wasn’t enough, when I returned from the bathroom, fully expecting him to be back in his expensive tuxedo and halfway out of the door, he was right where I left him.
In my bed.
Fast asleep.
And looking like an undressed model from GQ magazine.
I sigh contentedly, giving in to the cosiness.
I never found it comfortable sleeping with exes before.
But this, even though it should be overwhelming with how he has me pinned, is somehow ridiculously relaxing.
His legs are wrapped around mine like he doesn’t trust his arms to do the job of keeping me glued to him by themselves.
And his breath is falling in a gentle rhythm against my hair.
It’s . . . unnerving how different he is in his sleep.
The Rafael I’m used to is cold and calculating.
Okay, recently I’ve seen lighter flashes of him, maybe even a rare bolt of humour, showing that he is, in fact, a human like the rest of us.
But sleeping Rafael? Sleeping Rafael is a hot bubble bath on a cold winter’s night – all warm and cuddly and safe.
My phone pings nearby, and I crane my neck to peer over the edge of the bed. My clutch bag is lying haphazard on the floor in the tiny slice of space at the side of the bed, half of the contents scattered out of it where I tossed it down as he unzipped my dress last night.
I shuffle inside Rafael’s firm grip, but his arms tighten around me and he pulls me back against his chest with a sleepy grunt like I’m an errant prisoner attempting escape.
I wiggle inside his arms and turn on to my back.
I gaze at him, all dark hair, chiselled jawline, and full, parted lips as he breathes in and out evenly, lost in a dream.
‘I need the bathroom,’ I whisper, delivering the gentlest dust of a kiss to his mouth.
His breathing alters and he grumbles something, his grip on me loosening. I slide out from beneath his arm. I can’t believe that actually worked.
Sitting up in bed, a large, strong palm lands on my hip, giving it a squeeze.
‘Don’t be long, Beauty.’
The half-asleep request slips out easily, all deep and rich and husky. Heat blooms between my legs, making my clit ache.
Stop it. It’s just sleep-talking. He’ll be gone as soon as the sun’s up. Back to his fancy world and arsehole remarks.
He won’t be looking back. And neither will I.
I scoop up my phone.
Dove: He called me! Can you believe the nerve of him?
I hit ‘call’ immediately.
‘When?’ I ask the moment it connects.
‘About ten minutes ago,’ Dove says, sounding breathless. ‘I let it go to voicemail but he didn’t leave a message.’
This is so unlike Dove. I’ve never seen her get flustered over anyone. Except him. That one older man from her past who she’s never been able to fully leave behind and move on from.
I shuffle on the bed, keeping my voice low.
‘Do you think he saw you at the party?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t think so, but maybe . . .’
‘I wonder what he wants.’
‘Why are you whispering?’
‘I . . .’
‘Oh my God!’ Dove gasps, seeming eager for a distraction. ‘Did you hook up with someone after I left?’
‘Um . . .’
‘Tell me the truth. Is there a hot-blooded male in your bed right now, Rory?’ she teases.
I glance over my shoulder at Rafael’s sleeping form, looking like some kind of Greek god statue carved from marble. The sheets have got tangled beneath us, and his glorious thick thighs and arse are on full display, taut and muscular, and practically screaming to be bitten.
‘Yes . . . He’s, um . . . asleep.’ I wince, unable to lie to my best friend, even if I did spend the night getting thoroughly dicked by her eldest and grumpiest brother.
Please God, don’t let her ask me who.
‘Okay,’ she hums knowingly, like we’re in on a fun secret. ‘In that case I’ll let you go. Just tell me one thing . . . Fart sex?’
‘Oh God, no!’ I splutter. ‘The opposite, like as far from it as you can possibly imagine. I think I witnessed the afterlife and came back after my orgasm,’ I blurt, then immediately cringe.
God, if she ever finds out I’m saying these things about Rafael . . .
He shifts in the bed behind me, then a large hand wraps around my waist, splaying across my stomach and pulling me backwards.
‘Aurora,’ he mumbles sleepily.
‘Go.’ Dove giggles. ‘Sounds like you’re needed.’
I slump forwards in relief, dropping my phone on the carpet. The strong hand on my stomach tugs again, encouraging me to lie back down.
Far too easily, I sink back inside Rafael Fairfax’s arms and let out a sigh as they wrap around me, his forearms flexing as he gathers me up inside his grip.
Only this time his semi-hard dick isn’t just semi any more.
It’s fully engorged, standing to attention, ready to go .
. . much like the warm set of lips that are kissing a trail down the side of my neck with increasing determination.
His rich, deep voice makes his chest vibrate against my back.
‘Open your legs,’ he purrs.
A whimper breaks from me at the same moment as long, skilled fingers graze my clit. I should resist. I should. But technically it’s not morning yet, and . . .
‘Oh,’ I moan as he rubs my clit with the perfect amount of pressure that I know I’ll be coming with in minutes.
‘That feel good?’ he whispers, kissing my neck. ‘Let me make it even better.’
I manage a breathy mumble of agreement, then his legs are entangled with mine once again as his glorious, thick dick slides inside me.
His other hand grabs my breast possessively, squeezing it as he fucks me, slow and deep.
I thought it was just in his sleep, but it seems until dawn, at least, Rafael Fairfax has no intention of letting me go.
And I am more than okay with that.