Raphael (Deadly Virtues #1)(43)

“Lift your head.”

Maria did as commanded, only to see Raphael move to a new vase of roses sitting on a set of drawers against the opposite wall. The roses this time were a deep pink. Maria wondered where they were coming from. Taking the biggest flower, Raphael brought it over and threaded the thorn-less stem behind her ear. When he moved back, the small smile he wore dropped, and he ordered, “Get on my bed.”

Maria’s breathing deepened at the sharp order. She held her hands together as if they were still tucked in her nun’s robes. She quickly got to her feet. Raphael wouldn’t want to be kept waiting. The carpet was soft on her heels and toes, the color a vibrant blood red. Then red gave way to black as she arrived at the side of the bed. She saw Raphael’s feet beside hers. He didn’t say a thing, just waited for her to climb onto the mattress. Maria sat on the edge and kept her head downcast.

Raphael disappeared from sight. When he returned, a spark of nervousness skittered over Maria’s body. “Lie down in the center of the bed.” Raphael’s voice was husky. The deep timbre echoed in her ears and drifted inside her every cell. Maria shifted back and lay down in the middle of the mattress. She kept her eyes downcast, but when the bed dipped she knew Raphael had approached. The black bed linen smelled of his sea-salt scent. It cocooned her where she lay, oddly chasing away some of her remaining unease.

“Tell me,” Raphael said and straddled her lower legs. He didn’t touch her, but that didn’t stop Maria’s heart beating fast at having him above her. “Has anyone ever touched you before?” Dark images of chains and black-as-midnight claustrophobic spaces assaulted her mind. Like aversion therapy, she was thrust back five years. Her skin broke out in ice-cold sweats, and she could feel the deathly weight that used to crush her chest. She could feel her body moving in its small confines, panic taking control. Her eyes closed and, despite trying her hardest to fight it, she was suddenly falling deeply into darkness. Tumbling back into that hell from which she thought she would never escape. She was trapped. The walls closed in as her fingernails snapped as she clawed at the metal walls—

“Open your eyes.” Raphael’s sharp demand wrenched her from her inner nightmare and back into the dimly lit room. When her vision cleared of its blurriness, of the hot tears that were threatening to spill, it was to see Raphael’s bare torso hovering over her, his golden eyes fixated on her face in overt interest. Maria fought for breath, but her lungs were refusing to function. Her fists clenched into the bed sheets just to feel something to ground her. “Breathe.” The minute Raphael’s stern edict poured from his mouth, Maria’s body stilled and her lungs began to clear of their thickness. She kept her eyes on Raphael’s gaze and breathed.

Simply breathed.

Raphael cocked his head. An expression of intense curiosity danced across his beautiful face. “Interesting,” he said quietly, almost to himself. He dropped his attention to her neck and, with the lightest of touches on her chin, guided her head to the side. “The pulse in your neck fluttered so fast when you couldn’t breathe.” The tip of his finger brushed over the still-racing pulse. “Your neck is so soft, the skin so fair, I could see every single movement.” Raphael’s nostrils flared. “It was beautiful. You have the most perfect neck, little rose.” He kneeled again, leaving Maria in a heavy state of confusion. Never taking his eyes off her neck, he amended his original question. “Have you ever been touched, sexually?”

Maria felt her pulse race again. She swallowed, her inexperience creeping through, when she saw his erection twitch in his silk pants. Raphael’s eyes snapped to hers and narrowed in displeasure. “I don’t want to have to ask you again, little rose. Remember the rules. I won’t tolerate them being broken.”

“No, my lord,” Maria answered quickly, earning an approving nod from Raphael. That commendation lightened the crushing weight in her chest. “I have never been touched.”

“Mm,” he pondered, then reached behind him. When he faced her again, he held an object in his hand. It had a black stem, and red feathers of varying lengths and widths on the end. Maria’s lips parted as Raphael threaded the feathers through his fingers. The string that bound his finger was firmly in place, his index finger sporting a faint blue hue. Maria was hypnotized by the slow motion of the soft feathers being caressed by Raphael’s calloused hands. “I’m going to touch you, little rose. We’re going to begin our playtime.”

Raphael’s hand dropped to her ankle. Maria jumped at the feel of a man’s touch on her virginal skin. But Raphael’s hand was soft, warm. It slowly began to journey north, leaving goosebumps in its wake like a harsh winter wind kissing a bared neck. But just as Maria grew used to Raphael’s hand on her skin, he pulled it back. Heat flooded to Maria’s core. She felt her cheeks blaze as she squeezed her thighs together at the unfamiliar tingling between her legs. Raphael crawled over where she lay. Maria kept her eyes downcast like she was supposed to do.

“Look at me.”

Maria took a deep breath as her eyelids fluttered and she met Raphael’s dilated gaze. His head dipped low, and he traced his nose from the base of Maria’s neck to the edge of her jaw. She gasped at the feel. Her toes curled, and she did everything in her power not to move. When Raphael’s nose moved over her cheek, his lips ghosted to her ear. “I’m going to make you come, little rose. Come so fucking hard.”