Page 17 of One
He just makes a throaty sound.
“I’m an only child, but always wanted a brother,” I admit. “Although, I’m not an easy person to go along with.”
“What do you mean?”
Raphael has abandoned his search on the screen, and all his attention is on me now. It’s overwhelming to feel those deep jade eyes zeroing in on my face, like they are trying to dig up my soul to examine it thoroughly.
“I’m in the death business. And I chose it voluntarily.”
“Why?”
Nobody has ever asked me that. Probably not interested enough or too grossed out by my hypothetical reply. I decide to go for partial honesty, since I don’t know Raphael. “It’s peaceful. I have total control over it. And I can discover many things about my patients without having to hear it from them. Their bodies will tell me. They’re a map I can use to find hints leading from their life to their death.”
“A mystery that needs to be solved. Like one of those detective stories,” he finally says, pointing at the TV screen after a few seconds of silence. There’s no judgment in his sexy gruff voice.
“I’m a coroner for the hospital. The deaths are mostly caused by disease or, worst case scenario, malpractice.”
“Mostly?” he asks, leaning toward me.
And all the oxygen has suddenly disappeared with his closeness. My tingling body reminds me that those fuckable lips were on mine a few minutes ago.
“The ER doctors can’t save everybody, and the dead bodies ending on my table are the result of accidents or violence,” I manage to pathetically whisper, scratching my nape in a nervous gesture. His inscrutable eyes are following every movement I make. His gaze feels like a cool mental lick on my heated skin, and I relish the attention.
“Anyway, I always thought that having a brother would be cool,” I blurt out.
“What makes you think that?” I can hear the curiosity in his voice.
“I always had this vision of brothers as allies who stick around. Who stay, even when there are—” I swallow “—differences.” Fuck, why am I making myself so vulnerable in front of him? Giving hints about such a sore part of my private life?
“Where’s your family?” he asks unblinkingly.
“My parents died a year ago. I have nobody else.” I smile awkwardly with a shrug, averting my eyes. But I feel too raw to hold his searching stare.
“You do.”
Surprised by his firm words, my eyes jump to his.
His hand moves from the sofa to cup my face. His thumb strokes my swollen lower lip reverently. I can see the satisfaction in his gaze at the sight of the teeth marks he left on me. And that turns me on like a firecracker in July. All self-pity forgotten.
His sparkly green orbs lift to mine. “You need to belong. To be claimed, marked,” he whispers. “Roughened up, dominated. Eh, babe?”
Am I that transparent? A squeaky embarrassing noise leaves my mouth. Seems like I’ve lost the ability to speak.
“I will own you, Michael. All of your hot body, piglet.”
I let out a snort of irritation. “Really?”
“Very hot,” he says, smirking wickedly.
“I know I am. I’m talking about the piglet part!”
“What about it?” he says absentmindedly. His eyes tracking the gentle trail of his thumb on my cheek, going down toward my neck. “Your skin is so pink and pale. Smooth and delicate. I want…” His phone starts vibrating on the coffee table, halting his words. The name Rami appears on the screen.
He grabs it. “Done?” Raphael says into the phone.
I can hear a person talking on the other side. The voice is too low for me to understand, but it’s a man.
“Paolo’s Pizza, three blocks away, with Rague. Yeah. Detective Peterson and Garder. Hmm, not very cooperative. Fuck off!” He swears at the end, but it doesn’t have any heat behind it. “Michael Caldwell.” Raphael’s eyes find mine. The voice on the other end raises. “I’m with him now, dickface! I know. Stop that. Okay, but fucking behave.” He moves the phone away from his ear and pushes on the speaker button. “Michael, virtually meet Rami, my foster brother.”
