Page 16 of Raphael
Raphael's expression softens. "Lieutenant Fuzzy, huh?"
"Dad was so proud of that name," I say, smiling at the memory. "Said every bear needed a proper rank."
"I can see why you kept him."
"Your turn," I prompt.
Raphael leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. The position makes his biceps strain against the fabric of his shirt, and I force myself not to stare.
"I'm afraid of heights," he admits finally. "Fucking terrified, actually. Can't even go up glass elevators without breaking into a cold sweat."
This surprises a laugh out of me. "You? But you're so..." I gesture vaguely at his imposing frame.
"Big?" He grins. "Size has nothing to do with it. Gets embarrassing in my line of work sometimes."
"I can imagine." I try to picture this mountain of a man cowering in an elevator and find it endearingly human. "How did that happen?"
"Foster home when I was ten. Got locked on a roof for two days as punishment for talking back." His tone is matter-of-fact, but I see the shadow that passes over his face. "Never quite got over it."
My heart twists. "That's horrible."
He shrugs. "Not the worst thing that happened in the system."
The casualness with which he dismisses his trauma makes me ache for the child he was. "Is that why you're so protective of Marco? Because of what you went through?"
"Partly," he acknowledges. "But it's more than that. When he was born..." Raphael's expression transforms, softening in a way I haven't seen before. "When they put him in my arms, this tiny red-faced thing screaming his lungs out, something awoke in me. Like the world suddenly had a center point, and he was it."
"That's beautiful," I say softly.
"Your turn again."
I think for a moment. "I've never been in love," I admit. "Never even come close. My friends think I'm some kind of robot because I've turned down every guy who's asked me out in college."
Raphael raises an eyebrow. "Why?"
"They all seemed so... boring." I fidget with my glass. "Like they were playing at being adults, with their fraternity parties and their business majors. None of them felt real."
"And you want something real."
It's not a question, but I answer anyway. "Yes. Even if it's complicated or difficult or... dangerous." I meet his eyes on that last word.
Raphael's jaw tightens, and I notice his hands clench into fists at his sides.
"Your turn," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
"I haven't been with anyone since Alicia left," he says roughly. "Two years of nothing but my own hand for company."
Images flash unbidden in my mind. Raphael alone in his bed, those large hands working over his cock, his head thrown back in pleasure.
"Why?" I manage to ask, my mouth suddenly dry.
"No time. No interest in casual hookups. Too much risk bringing strangers around when you have a kid." He runs a hand through his hair again. "And then there's the job. Hard to explain why you might need to leave in the middle of the night, or why you sometimes come home with bruised knuckles."
I nod, understanding. "That makes sense."
"Your turn."
I take a deep breath, then decide to go for it. "I'm still a virgin."
