He could feel her hardened nipples pushed up against his chest as a hand snaked down to the front of his pants, softly caressing the bulge of his manhood as she whispered softly to him, "I've missed you..."
Her practised hands slowly unzipped his pants, reaching in, her eyes widening as she found he wore no briefs, before a seductive smile settled over her lips. She slowly began to stroke his throbbing cock with exquisite preciseness, a knowing look in her eyes as he hardened beneath her manipulations.
Rafe groaned softly, closing his eyes as he let the distraction wash over him.
"Take me, Rafe..." Delani's husky voice broke through the silence.
His eyes snapped open, and he lowered his face to look down at her. Yes, he could take her. Easily. But he didn't want her. Not a bone in his body had ever desperately ached for her the way Liesel DuBorque was now making him feel.
He sighed softly, pulling back from her embrace as he did his pants back up.
"I can't. I'm sorry Delani, you should leave."
Her eyes, so soft and seductive only moments ago flashed brightly with anger, "What the fuck do you mean, you can't?"
The harsh whip of her voice slapped across his face, obviously she was not accustomed to rejection.
"I mean, that I can't and I won't." He replied as if talking to a child.
Her pretty face grew furious, marred by angry frowns she hissed, "You have no idea what you're doing!"
"Actually, I know exactly what I'm doing. Please leave." He replied, his tone remaining polite yet dismissive, effectively ending their conversation. He cocked an eyebrow as he stared half-amused at her petty, childish sulking.
Whisking around, she stalked from the room, her fury crackling in the air like electricity. She stopped only to pause at the door.
"You'll come back to me. They always do."
Raphael rolled his eyes at her dramatics, every fibre in his body completely doubting what she'd just stated. Turning around, he walked swiftly towards one of the luxurious cream-coloured couches, raking his fingers through his hair as he felt a particularly painful headache coming on. What on earth had come over him... Ever since he had looked upon that mysterious woman, he had eyes only for her. His mind continuously tortured by thoughts of running his hands down her silky ivory skin, letting loose the pins holding up her hair and feel as the masses of white gold tresses cascaded over his fingers. God, to press his mouth to those luscious peach coloured lips...
With a tortured groan, he gave in to himself. He would have Liesel DuBorque even if it killed him.
