4. The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled… #3
“Stop, you’re gonna make me fall in love with you.” I wiped my face with the back of my hand. God, I’d always been weak for a funny asshole, and he’d perfected the art.
Rafael cupped my chin, and my breath froze in my throat. His already-sharp gaze intensified, nearly glowing.
“If I ask to kiss you, will that strengthen my chances or worsen them?”
I whimpered like a fucking idiot and tangled my hands in his hair. “Strengthen, definitely.”
He brushed my lips with his thumb, and I shivered. Cradling the back of my head, Rafael leaned in. His mouth was unyielding at first. Accustomed to scowling, it was not a generous mouth, nor was it given to ease or softness.
But he softened for me, cautiously exploring the contour of my lips. His body heat, the strength in those arms around me, his scent—I wanted to drown in him. I wanted to batter myself on the mysterious gates of his heart until he opened and let me in.
He took my lower lip in his teeth. I may have moaned into his mouth. The energy shifted. Suddenly his tongue prodded mine. Our mouths clashed, and I kissed back as hard as I could. He made a sound low in his throat, and my body lit up.
My breathing sped, and I gasped for air. I wanted him to rip my clothes off and take me right there on the floor. I wanted to rip his off and taste the muscular body beneath. I wanted to lick and bite and fuck until neither of us remembered our names.
Cruelly, Rafael released me and stood. I wobbled in the absence of his arms. He caught my shoulders and steadied me.
Holding me upright, he pinned me with a stare down his nose.
“I am not a casual person, and I do not want to be ‘just friends’. If I am with you, then I am with you only—and I expect the same. I will not lie to you, and you will not lie to me. If this is not what you want, or if it frightens you, I would rather know now.”
Wordless, breathless, I shook my head. “You’ve already crawled inside my ribs and made a nest there. I’m a terrible liar, anyway. Even lies by omission; if I feel something strongly, it’ll always come tumbling out of my mouth.”
“I like that about you.” The corners of his mouth quirked upward. “I beg for patience, though. I have had some impressively bad luck with relationships.”
Oh my god. Rafael fucking Nazim was asking me to be in a relationship with him? Had I stepped into an alternate reality?
“I’m in no rush.”
“Good.” He gave me a considering look. “Some women dislike being asked directly for consent. I have never understood that.”
“Some women are neurotypical and expect you to read their minds,” I countered. “I’ve never understood that either. Especially not with something as important as consent.”
Rafael smiled his approval and led me back to a cavernous kitchen with phthalo blue cabinets where a carafe of red wine sat on a glimmering labradorite island. He poured us each a glass, and we clinked them together. The wine was rich, smooth, and complex—much like Rafael himself.
“What are your food restrictions?”
I swallowed my sip of wine. “I’m very lactose intolerant. Actually allergic to tomatoes, and sometimes peppers make my mouth get tingly if I eat too much. I have kind of a delicate tummy overall. English peas don’t make me sick; I just hate them.”
Rafael tapped the counter in thought. “A shame about the tomatoes, but I can work around that.”
Through the kitchen was a tiled bathroom, complete with a claw-foot tub, and a spare, white-walled bedroom. It clearly didn’t get much use, given the stacks of books and sheet music on the bed. I admired the Joan Miró hanging over the headboard; the first abstract in his collection.
To my starkly boring parents, the decor would have been garish. I loved all the colors and textures, and Rafael had somehow combined them all in a way that kept them from becoming overstimulating or cluttered. Artful maximalism.
His recording studio branched off from the music room. It was filled with screens and technology I didn’t understand, and was the only room with no art or decor. His office on the other side had a similar vibe to the den, though the paintings there were slightly macabre still-lifes and—
“Shut up! Is that an original Giger?” I almost touched the suggestive portrait of a nascent xenomorph.
“It is.”
“Which of the Alien movies is your favorite? I will absolutely judge you based on your answer.” I tried to look as stern and judgmental as he had about my music choices, but he laughed in my face.
“Hard to beat the original, but Aliens is such a classic. If you say your favorites are the AvP movies, I will kick you out of my house.”
It was my turn to laugh. “I mean, there was that one scene in the second AvP movie with the ovipositor that really made me question my sexuality, but no, you are correct.”
“Oh, are you a monster fucker?” Rafael’s eyes glittered.
I planted my hands on my hips. “You read my book.”
He snorted. “No wonder you are attracted to me.”
I swatted his arm. My hand stung at the contact; he was solid as a rock.
“Oh please. You know you’re hot.”
His brows shot up. “With how strongly and often I have been advised to get rhinoplasty for this nose? Doubtful. And useless, given the number of times it has been broken. Plus, when you make a habit of taking punches, a mouthguard can only do so much.”
Rafael bared charmingly crooked teeth in a crocodile grin, running the tip of his tongue over the edges. A couple were slightly chipped. Whatever he intended, I just imagined him running that tongue over my body.
“Stop it. I’m glad you don’t have veneers like everyone else.” I almost added, ‘don’t bullshit a bullshitter’. “Who do I need to fight over the nose job comments?”
“Everyone I have ever worked with in LA.” His broad shoulders slumped. “Regardless of whether you find me attractive, I scare people away. You will see.”
I took his hand. “Don’t run me off before I have the chance to decide for myself, ok? So far, I really like what I’ve seen.”
Quieted, he led me downstairs to a small home theater with large, comfortable seats. “This is where I do final screenings of movies and games before release.”
“Do you watch TV in here too? That’s gotta be an experience.” I ran my hand across the dark velvet wall panels. It was like a cushy cave.
“I watch little of it in general, but there is a TV in a lift cabinet in the den for casual viewing.”
Next was his home gym. Rather than a fancy build with tons of expensive equipment, it resembled a scrappy fighting gym in a garage.
Nice padding lined the floor, and mirrors took up one wall, but simple weights, some wall attachments, and a heavy bag made up most of the rest. Notably, unlike other gyms, it did not smell like foot.
I spun in a slow circle. “You must work out a lot. Can you bench press me?” Stupid, stupid. Why did I keep doing this?
“Easily.”
Well, that was cocky. “You don’t know how much I weigh!”
Rafael grinned. “My personal record is 230 kilos—about 507 pounds. I can safely assume you are nowhere near that.”
“Jesus Christ. I bet nobody likes you when you’re angry.”
“Correct.” Next thing I knew, a powerful arm scooped me up and hoisted me into the air. I windmilled to catch my balance. Rafael clamped my thighs firmly under his hand. I caught sight of us in the mirror—he’d perched me neatly on his rocky bicep. He stared smugly up at me.
This man would be the death of me. And I would welcome it.
“Well, goddamn. I am fucking impressed. Can’t say any other dude has ever done this.” Please body slam me right now before I soak through your sleeve. Thank god I wore shapewear instead of a thong. “Has anyone ever told you that you have trickster god energy2? Like Loki?”
“Yes. ?eytan tüyü, we say in Turkish.”
I blinked. “SHAY-tahn too yoo?”
“Close enough. Means ‘the devil’s feather’.” His eyes glittered. “Someone with a mysterious, devilish charm.” Rafael slid me down from his shoulder, catching and cradling me in his arms. “There, is this better?”
With my head against his chest, that vocal vibration threatened to undo me. “Fuck, I have never felt so safe.” I leaned back to catch his eye. “If I’m ever having a meltdown and you need to calm me, just do this and hum or something. Best stim ever with that resonant voice of yours.”
He huffed through his nose. “Noted.”
“With all the fighting stuff, aren’t you worried you’ll break your hands?”
Rafael set me on my feet. “It happens. But I am a fast healer, and pain does not stop me.”
I felt bereft without his body heat. “What does stop you?”
His lips thinned. “Myself, mostly.” Rafael glanced at the stairwell branching off from the corner. “My bedroom is up there. I will show it to you some other time.”
I drooped as we walked to the elevator.
He stopped me. “I am not rejecting you; I am trying to move slowly. Will you join me here for dinner on Sunday?” There were a thousand thoughts behind those eyes. “It is getting late, and I do not want your housemates to call the cops thinking I have murdered you.”
“I would love to—and that’s a solid point.”
He opened the car door for me, and I climbed in. I tilted my chin up and closed my eyes, expecting another toe-curling kiss. But he simply took my hand and pressed my knuckles to his lips. Surprisingly erotic.
“Rafael, I…” I didn’t know what I’d meant to say.
He crouched, leaning down until his breath tickled my ear. “Think of me when you go home and touch yourself.”
My skin burst into flames, and my mouth fell open. “You—”
Rafael smiled sweetly and shut the car door in my face.
1 “All I Really Want” – Alanis Morissette
2 “Chokehold” by Sleep Token