Page 123 of Raphael (Belles & Mobsters 5)

“Is it okay if I take your clothes off?” His words were soft as a whisper.

I swallowed and opened my mouth to give permission. I couldn’t find my voice so I just nodded. Gently he helped me up and I stood like a child, my gaze never wavering from him.

He reached around me, his big hand feather light against my skin and all the while, his eyes remained on my face. As if he waited for panic to kick in. Gripping the hem of my tank top, he pulled it gently over my head and discarded it on the floor. He hooked his fingers in my panties and gently slid them down my legs.

He removed his tie, then his jacket followed. Panic flickered in my chest. My chest squeezed. Oxygen couldn’t find its way into my lungs. Tremors rolled down my body.

“I’ll leave my clothes on, Reina,” he quickly assured and my eyes found his, looking for truth in them. “I’m just going to get rid of the jacket, vest, my holster and shoes. Okay?”

I swallowed hard. Another nod.

His holster followed, then he kicked off his shoes and socks.

He gently nudged me into the shower, both of us stepping under the spray of it together.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he rasped, reaching for a cloth and bodywash. “You can hit me too. Hard.”

My lips tugged up. It was as if I gave him the biggest gift, because light flickered in his eyes. Our gazes locked, and it was as if he held his breath. But words failed me.

“Ready?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” I answered softly, my voice barely a whisper.

He started to wash my body, the primrose scent filling the luxurious shower. He lathered every inch of my body, softly and so gently, it almost brought tears to my eyes.

He lowered down to his knees, washing my left foot, then my right foot. Then he rose to his full height, and washed my hair. He poured shampoo into his palms, then slowly rubbed it into my hair, his touch feather light.

Then he rinsed it off, and repeated the process with the conditioner.

When he was done, he brushed his mouth against my forehead, then turned off the water and reached for the large, plush towel, patted my body dry and then wrapped it around me. He did the same process with my hair, patting it dry.

“Good?” he asked, his voice thick with emotions. Not sure what kind and I didn’t dare to ask.

“Thank you.”

A terse nod. We stepped out of the shower together, water dripping off his clothes. “You’re going to get sick,” I murmured.

His gaze followed down his body, then came back to me. “Are you okay if I take my clothes off?”

“Sure.”

His movements were efficient and quick as he stripped out of his clothes. For a few moments, he disappeared into the bedroom, leaving the door open. I watched him head to the closet, digging out a change of clothes. I watched his muscles shift as he changed into a dry pair of boxers and pulled a pair of pajama pants on.

When he turned around, there was a guarded expression on his face as our gazes locked, the air thick between us. The dangerous energy buzzed in the air. Raphael was never the one to hide his ruthlessness.

He had his title tattooed on his hand for Christ’s sake.

But he hid it now. He returned to the bathroom.

“Thank you.”For saving me. For not giving up on me. For loving me.

He took five steps back towards me, his tall frame towering over me. His gaze burned a hole through me, seeing my heart.Bleeding. Damaged.

He leaned back against the counter, my body immobile as I watched the familiar ink marking his upper torso. He was seemingly relaxed, both of his hands curled over the edge of the marble countertop. But his knuckles were white. His fingers clutched the marble, and I feared he’d crack it.

But it was his wedding band that glittered against the light that caught my eye.

“Don’t leave me, Reina.” His dark voice was laced with desperation. “Tell me what you want, what you need. You can have it all, anything. Everything. Just don’t leave me.”

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