"I was a virgin when I joined the Order," he said to the glass. Rain streaked down the window, distorting his reflection. "I'd never even kissed anyone. Told myself it didn't matter."
He laughed. The sound was hollow. Broken. My chest went tight.
"But when I thought I was going to die in Rome, my first thought was that I'd never know what it was like to be wanted. To be touched by someone who chose me."
I wanted to close the distance and pull him against me and tell him he was wanted.
But I stayed frozen in my chair, palms pressed flat against the table, afraid that if I moved, I'd do something catastrophic.
"The warehouse was grief. Desperation. We were both half-dead and covered in blood, and I don't even remember half of it clearly. Just that it didn’t hurt, and I desperately needed to remember there were sensations other than pain in the world."
My cock went from interested to hard in the space of a heartbeat as I relived the memories we made on that warehouse floor.
"Rafael." My voice came out wrecked.
"I want to know what it's like." He turned from the window. "I want you to show me. Not desperate and grief-soaked. Not because we're running or hiding or about to die."
He crossed the kitchen in three strides to stand in front of me. "I want you to kiss me like you love me. Touch me like I matter. Makeme believe it, even if it isn’t true. I just… I want to know what it’s like to have that. Just once.”
My chest suddenly hurt.
I'd seduced people dozens of times before. Hundreds, maybe. Dionysus had trained me for exactly this.
I was good at this. The best.
So why did my pulse hammer against my ribs like it was trying to escape?
"I can give you that," I said.
"Okay," he said quietly. "Show me."
I stood and reached for his face with shaky hands.
Rafael froze. His breath caught, and for a heartbeat his eyes dropped to my trembling hands before meeting mine again.
Then I gripped him by the hair, pulled him down, and kissed him.
I was slow at first. Careful. I pressed my lips to his, held for three seconds, pulled back just enough that our mouths barely touched. Let him feel the absence. Rafael's breath hitched. I returned, deeper this time, my lips parting his with gentle pressure. His mouth opened for me immediately, too eager, and I pulled back again. Made him wait. Made him want it.
But Rafael didn't wait.
His hand shot up to cup the back of my neck, grip bruising, and he yanked me back to him. His mouth crashed against mine, all hunger and desperation and need. No finesse. No technique. Just raw want that punched through my carefully constructed control like a fist through glass.
I tried to slow him down, to guide the kiss back to something I could manage, but Rafael's other hand fisted in my hair and pulled. Pain sparked across my scalp, and I gasped. He used the opening to sweep his tongue into my mouth, claiming it, taking what he wanted without asking permission or forgiveness.
My training screamed at me to regain control, but my body had other ideas. My fingers were already fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer when I should have been pulling away.
Rafael tasted like chicory coffee and burnt sugar and desperation, and when he bit my lower lip hard enough to draw blood, I nearly came.
"No," he growled, walking me backwards until my back hit the wall. "Don't run. Don't hide." His hands went to my shirt and yanked. Buttons scattered across the floor, pinging off the walls. "I want to see you."
He shoved the ruined fabric off my shoulders, and his teeth found my neck. When I let out an involuntary little squeak, he just bit down harder, shaking his head slightly like a predator with prey.
After he finally released me, he stared at the mark he'd left, licking his lips.
He licked the blood from my shoulder, and my knees nearly gave out. "I don't know why I need to mark you like this, but I can't stop."
"Then don't stop." I didn't care anymore about maintaining control or keeping walls up or pretending this was just another seduction. "Don't think. Just take what you want from me."
