Page 64 of Hidden Raphael
Chapter 18
The storm finally stopped. With her eyes closed, and her body wrapped in a sheet, she heard an owl hoot outside the window. Kimberly smiled to herself. How had she lived without Raphael's touch? Her body still had electric surges from everywhere he kissed and touched her.
The moon was high in the night sky, but she couldn't sleep. She was too excited about life. She rolled over and sat up, resting her feet against the wood floor next to his bed. Raphael’s deep breathing indicated he was sound asleep. She stretched and noticed her clean clothes folded on the chair. Last night the soggy mess had been in piles on the floor.
Meg must have been here. Kimberly brushed her hair behind her ear. She stood up, and her toes froze. The bare wood floor without a rug on it sent a chill up her spine every time she stood without socks. Before she left, she leaned over and kissed Raphael's full lips.
His lips were pliant and soft. He tugged her down into his arms and kissed her back. She caressed his chiseled chin that was scratchy from his five o’clock shadow. His hand caressed her hips, then her back and neck, and then he cradled her head with his large hands and massaged her scalp. "Kimberly, you are mine."
She ran her hands to his cheeks and felt his rough, thick hair that stopped above his ear. From her lessons on self-awareness, she understood right now was all she had. She stayed in the present moment and didn’t put stock in forever. She leaned against him and centered herself on his erection as she teased his naked skin with her own.
A possessive grin took over his face. Kimberly smiled. She'd like to be his.
He opened his eyes and his hands rested on her waist. Then he pressed her down and his mouth kissed one breast then the other. "Morning."
She laughed. It was still late. "It's the middle of the night."
His smoldering gaze met hers. "You are beautiful."
She massaged his shoulders. "The last single man I spoke to called me a bitch."
She had almost forgotten that, and had no idea why she said it now. It was a bar in France on their way to America. A tourist bought her a wine and expected her to kiss him.
His dimples held his laugh in. "I'm glad."
"You're what?"
"Glad. He was a fool. It left you available."
She laughed, and the accusation that had once stung internally left her entirely. Raphael was a man she could respect and, if she dared, possibly love.
He kissed her lips, and his hard body sent thrills to parts of her body she had never thought alive.
Soon she lost complete control of her thoughts, mind, and body. Raphael sent her into orbit.
Hours later the sun shone through the window. She woke up sated and twisted on the other side of the bed to find Raphael’s sheets were still warm. Inhaling his woodsy scent, she opened her eyes. "Raphael?"
A rumble to her left sounded. She turned, and saw Raphael staring out his giant tower window.
His room was sparse and clean, nothing personal except a few pictures of his family. She knew better now. She gathered the sheets around her, stood up, and walked over to him. "What's wrong?"
He stayed as he was, and she hugged him from behind. He sighed. "I'm under your spell, Kimberly."
"I don't weave spells. I don't have any drugs. And I have no control over you. Or near you. Raphael, don't beat yourself up every time we enjoy each other."
He offered her the saddest smile she'd ever seen. "I swore I wouldn’t touch you again, but yesterday I couldn't stop."
She knelt down beside his feet. She had to take this big chance with him. "I'm glad you broke that vow. Right now, I need you here with me. All that matters is that we now help our own futures."
"We—"
She shook her head. "Don't say shouldn't. We both enjoy ourselves. Don't add responsibilities of the future on the here and now."
His jaw dropped. "Kimberly, you say things that blow my mind, and I don't understand you at all."
"I learned a few things on my journey of self-awareness." She sat up and hugged him. He reached out for her to sit, and she complied. She nestled on his lap. "Now I'm going to go make breakfast. Don't dwell on a past that doesn't matter. If you think that will happen, follow me to the kitchen and we'll get you your liters of coffee."
His green eyes were wide as he asked, "Why do you like me?"
