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His lips brush over my neck, my collarbone, my breast, my stomach. With each tiny touch, I tremble. He keeps going until his broad shoulders are resting between my thighs. “Look at me,” he demands.
I do, and as our eyes lock, he places his mouth on me. It feels wrong and yet so right. I want to both pull away and never move. This isn’t like last time though. I know what’s coming. Foreign sensations wash over me, sparks igniting from somewhere deep within. My body moves of its own violation, my back bowing away from the bed. And then he stops. I glance at him, and he smiles wickedly, placing a kiss on my lower stomach. He sits up and slides an arm around the small of my back, yanking me off the mattress until we’re face to face, my thighs either side of his. Our lips are barely an inch apart. I can feel the ragged rise and fall of his chest against mine, and his hot skin brushes against me, I shiver. Fingers slide around the back of my neck, his forehead touching mine. “You okay?”
I force a small smile, my courage dwindling. “Yeah.”
“Then focus on me.” He pulls back a fraction, his eyes imprisoning mine as his hands slide to the top of my thighs. He lifts me, and I instantly feel him, pressing against me there. My heart beats faster and my breaths speed as every muscle tenses. “Anna, look at me.” I can’t. My mind starts to spin, thoughts melding into a muddy blur like static on a TV. I can’t focus, I can’t think. Survival instincts override everything logical, and I feel myself gravitating toward that dark little hiding place deep within myself. “I love you,” he whispers against my ear. Those three words are like lightening ripping through black clouds, illuminating everything and cutting through the static. Everything stops. There’s a moment of absolute silence, permeated only by the ringing in my ears, and then a single breath sucks into starving lungs. He pushes into me. The storm breaks loose in all its glory, battering against my defenses and washing away everything. It’s chaotic and ugly, yet beautiful. Rafael tears apart all the facets of me that existed before this moment, ripping up my foundations and destroying everything in his path. He lays waste to my body and soul, and all I can do is cling to him as the tears streak down my face. Yes, he ruins me, just like I always knew he would. But then slowly, piece-by-piece, he completes me. Every soft touch, every gentle kiss, each slow roll of his hips feels magnetic. He’s pulling me back together, re-arranging everything I was until it all makes sense—until I’m stronger, better…his own personal masterpiece.
My mind snaps back into place, and the fear, the loathing, the disgust…it all disintegrates as if it never even existed. It’s like nothing before this point was ever of any consequence. Him and I—that’s it. This is it.
His hand cups my cheek, and I focus on him, on the feel of him moving within me, making us one. I grab his face, slamming my lips against his. I want this. I want every little piece of him.
“Anna,” he groans against my lips.
He forces me to experience everything until I’m pulled under a tidal wave of feeling, drowning and yet breathing for the first time. He swaddles me in his love, making an unbreakable vow with his body. He name falls from my lips like a prayer and his muscles tighten beneath my fingers, a long growl working its way up his throat. It’s raw and primitive, my big bad wolf.
When he tries to move away from me, I pull him closer. I’m not ready to let go of him yet. He kisses my forehead. “Are you okay?”
A soft smile pulls at my lips. I wish I could explain it to him, but I can’t. This sensation can’t truly be put into words. I stroke my fingers over his lips. “You’re like coming home when I’ve never had one,” I whisper.
His arms create a band around my back, tightening like a vice. “Good. I want to be your everything.” He has no idea how much he is.
He lifts me, placing me on the bed before he stands completely naked and walks over to the bathroom. I hear the shower start, the water pounding over tile. “You coming to join me?” he says, popping his head around the corner.
“Maybe later?” I need a minute to just…process everything.
“Okay.” The door closes, and he leaves me alone with my thoughts, but when I slowly lower the guard on my mind, expecting a barrage of feelings, there’s nothing—only a blissful acceptance, as though I finally know where I belong. The absence of turmoil is just that; absent. It’s strange.
Rafael is a balm to my battered soul, and for now, it’s quietly healing.
* * *
The next morning, I wake up to bright sunlight streaming through the open balcony doors. Dust particles catch the light, sparkling like little bits of glitter. This morning, the sun is just a little warmer, everything just a little prettier. I stretch, my aching muscles screaming in protest. I can hear the low rumble of a deep voice coming from somewhere nearby. I think it’s Rafael, and the conversation sounds one-sided, so I guess he’s on the phone.
I roll onto my back and lift my hand, allowing my fingers to play through the dust moats. I sigh when I look at the strange flat void where my little finger once was. I haven’t been present enough to process the simple fact that I’ve lost a finger. It almost looks as though it was supposed to be like that, except it’s not. Part of me is missing. I drop my hand to my side, unable to look at it any longer.
Getting out of bed, I go to the bathroom in search of a bandage or something, anything to cover it. I go to the vanity and glance at my reflection in the mirror. I look pale, the shadows beneath my eyes so dark they’re almost purple, but I look alive again. I no longer look like a walking dead girl, and there’s some relief in that. Tearing my gaze away, I drop to a crouch and rummage around in the bathroom drawers until I find a bandage. With trembling fingers, I try to wrap it around my maimed hand. I know Rafael is there without even looking. His hands cover mine, taking the bandage from me. I fight back tears, unable to look at him. It’s just a finger. There are worse things that could happen. I don’t know why I’m so upset about it, but I can’t bear to look at it.
Rafael says nothing as he starts wrapping my hand in the bandage. “You didn’t have enough bandages already?” A small smile plays over his lips as he wraps and then ties it off.
“I don’t want to see it,” I say hoarsely.
“It’s okay to be upset about it,avecita.”
“It’s just a finger,” I say, more to myself than him.
His thumb brushes the inside of my wrist.“No one wants to lose a body part,” he says, a trace of amusement in his voice.
I shake my head.“She didn’t blink.”
He sighs.“Your sister must have her own reasons.”
I lift my gaze to his.“What possible reason can there be for that?”
He grips my jaw, swiping his thumb just below my ear.“You know what kind of a man Nicholai is…”
I step away from him.“Are you defending her?”
He drags a hand through his hair.“No, but…shesacrificed herself for you. She sacrificed her baby.”
