Page 27 of The Devil’s Feather

I was a hypocrite in that realm. The closest I came to ‘good terms’ was with Marcus, and only because he hadn’t lied about his cheating or thrown a tantrum when I’d confronted him. I still avoided him if possible.

Rafael winced. “Not many. Less than I would prefer.”

“Thank you for being honest with me.” Was I already in too deep? This huge, powerful man had hurt people, even killed people, and was already warning me about a terrible temper. But my fear was hopeless against his magnetism.

He let out a breath. “Will you stay? Please?”

“I want to.” The thought of leaving now squeezed the air out of my lungs. “I’m not exactly prepared, though.” I should have been, but insecurity had gotten in the way, as it always did.

Rafael reached for his phone. “What do you need? I will order it.”

My eyes roamed around the spartan, white-walled room. The giant bed must be custom if it was large enough for Rafael to sprawl out without reaching the edges. God, I’d probably stained the duvet cover after all that gushing.

He must not spend much time here, either. Very little art on the walls, no books, no personal items anywhere. The only detail of note was the Tiffany lamp.

“Can’t order my meds.” I chewed my lip. “Or my nightguard. I need it because I grind my teeth. It’s very sexy.”

Rafael pushed my sweaty hair back from my forehead. “What would you need to stay longer?”

“Like, for a few days?”

“Like, forever.” His gaze was unwavering.

God, I didn’t want to say no, but… “Slow your roll there, hoss. We barely know each other. You haven’t met my friends or even know where I live. I’ve learned a lot about you, but I haven’t seen you get mad yet, and I don’t even know when your birthday is.”

He smiled indulgently. “Late October. I claimed the 29th because I like prime numbers, but I did not want Halloween. You might be surprised at what I know about you, my windup girl, with all the time you spend on social media. Such as your birthday on July 4th, which you like to complain about.”

That pet name had me internally squealing and kicking my feet. “You’re a fucking Scorpio? That tracks. No wonder you’re stalking me online.”

“I had to be sure you were not an axe murderer.” Rafael’s mouth twitched. “Are you one of those astrology girlies?”

“You say that like it’s an insult. And no, it’s just a passing interest. Cancers supposedly get along with Scorpios, but all my worst exes were Scorps. I seem to have a fatal attraction to them.” I chewed on my lip with a sigh. “What if I can’t beat you up the way you like?”

Rafael shrugged. “Either you learn, or I hire a professional and you watch.”

Oof, that was direct. My stomach sank.

He sat up, alarmed. “I would not hire a pro against your will. More like someone to teach you techniques if you are open to it. I only meant this is a necessity for me. I will help with conditioning, since it takes some stamina and upper body strength.” He prodded my soft arm, brow pinching with concern. “Is this a dealbreaker?”

Was it? Again, he was upfront, not slinking around behind my back.

My gut told me to give him a chance. “No, no, I’m just wrapping my head around the concept. I don’t have a problem with sex workers, and I can see the potential need.”

“I do not expect you to agree to anything until you understand the extent of what I am asking. Consent in all things, yes?” Rafael pulled his hair back and tied it into the low ponytail he favored. The dance of serratus muscles across his ribs mesmerized me. “Hmm. Do you like baklava?” He pronounced it ‘bahk-LAH-vah’.

“I…what? Yes? Where did that come from?” Was he deliberately trying to throw me off balance?

From the mischievous twinkle in his eye, yes, absolutely. “I made some in case you wanted dessert. Pistachio flavor. All yours; I do not like sweets.” With those abs, he’d probably never eaten a carb in his life.

“Ok, Trickster God, you feathered devil. What are you trying to pull?”

“I would say ‘your clothes off’, but I have already accomplished that.”

I snorted and swatted his bare shoulder. “No dessert right now, thanks, but yes, I do like baklava. Let me go home and pack a bag. I have work on Monday, but I can stay tonight and tomorrow night. And you have to at least meet Deandra, since she has an excellent radar for terrible men.”

“I already told you I am a terrible man. You refuse to listen.” His eyes narrowed into slits, and he sucked his teeth. “Only a single bag? I will allow it. This time. But I am driving you.”

I struggled back into my unpleasantly damp underwear and my clothes. He led me to the garage, past the guest parking, through another gate. Oh god, not an Escalade.