An Inconvenient Arrangement

Chapter 32: Rafe

"Raphael, my book!" Sylvie strained against his hold as Raphael strode past the guest wing to his own rooms with a gait that was just shy of embarrassingly hurried. Rafe did not have it in him to feign casualness. Not now. Not with her finally agreeing to be his.

"Your book?" He asked absently, shifting her weight so that he could turn the knob. "What book?"

"You know!" She replied, appearing moderately distressed. "The one with the drawings! I need it!"

Raphael thought she might smack him and leave altogether if he teased her for finally admitting that she owned it, so he bit his lip and smothered his grin.

"You don't need it," he pressed a reassuring kiss to the top of her head and set her down at the edge of the bed.

"How else will I know what to do?" Her posture was stiff, her forehead was bunched into a frown and her hands were fisted in the bedsheet.

For all that she was bold and demanding just moments before, Raphael could practically see the nervousness rolling off of her. He leaned down and kissed the corner of her mouth gently, then her cheek, and then her forehead until he felt her relax into his touch. She returned his kisses sweetly and with eagerness that was going straight to his groin. It was never an unpleasant thing to have a lover so very enthusiastic for you, and with Sylvie, he knew that none of it was artifice.

"You do not need anything. You and I shall find our way together, hmm?"

"I don't know....I-I feel so lost and clueless."

"The first time is very daunting, I imagine," he sat down next to her and took her hand in his, raising it to his lips to press a kiss upon it. "It's all new, you don't know what to expect. Before we begin I need you to know that you can change your mind any time. We can stop any time you want to. You can tell me what you like, and you can tell me what you don't like. The last thing I want to do is hurt you or scare you. Do you want to continue?"

"I know, Raphael, I trust you," she squeezed his hand, though he still felt a bit of a tremor. "No, I don't want to stop. I want you to show me everything."

Thank God.

He got to his feet, standing before her, and offered her a hand and helped her up.

"Would you like to undress yourself? Or shall I assist you?"

She blinked at him uncomprehendingly and then flushed crimson.

"No one tells you that it is far easier to do these things when one is swept up in the moment," she grumbled adorably. "It was not so mortifying when I wasn't thinking quite so much. Do you have a preference?"

"Oh certainly," he purred in delight. "I enjoy unwrapping my own presents."

She gave him her habitual look of unamused disapproval that aroused him beyond reason but stood straight and proud.

"Have at me, then," she declared so gravely that he could not keep from laughing. "What? What is it?"

"You needn't sound as if I am about to cart you off to the guillotine."

"I'm just nervous!" She snapped at him and began to undo her own blouse with a determined set to her mouth as if proving a point but he quickly halted her hands. He drew them to her sides, leaning in to casually sip from her mouth as he started to unravel the laces slowly until the bodice was sagging. As he drew back to observe her. She had her eyes screwed shut, her face the shade of beet.

"I wonder, Sylvie, if you'll allow me to indulge in a game?"

"A game? At this time?"

"A game conducive to our activities," he reassured her, caressing her cheeks soothingly. "May I blindfold you?"