Page 36 of The Devil’s Feather

While he showered, I snooped around his bedroom. A flush pocket door I hadn’t noticed revealed a cedar-paneled, walk-in closet. It was spacious, but there was not much to snoop. Black clothing hung in orderly rows from the racks. Black undershirts, sweaters, exercise clothes, and socks were folded in drawers. The shirts all had long sleeves, even the tees and workout shirts.

I found some belts. More shoes than I owned but not an absurd amount—mostly boots. All expensive-looking, especially given they were size 18.

“Looking for where I hide the bodies?”

I jumped. Goddamn it, not again. “Actually, I have no idea what I was looking for. I just felt compelled to look.”

Words died in my throat as I turned to him. Steam rose from Rafael’s light, gilded brown, still-damp skin. He leaned through the doorframe with only a white towel draped around his trim waist. His thighs and calves were just as developed as the rest of him. Fuck, that outline…I forced my eyes upward to his wet hair. It coiled into ringlets, darkened almost to black with the water.

“You are so fucking hot.” I inched closer. “Can I sproing a curl? Pleeease?”

“Absolutely not.” Rafael ducked back into the bathroom.

The sink hissed on, and I crept in after him. Watching him apply the scented oil to his hair was a study in the fascinating contours of muscle. Swatches of long scars marred Rafael’s broad back. I’d missed them earlier, as his thick hair hid them. These scars were flush to the skin, with jagged edges and darker discoloration, unlike the raised and silvery, self-inflicted ones on his arms.

Damn, he has been through so much.

So close to my target. If I was careful, I could reach out and snag a lock⁠—

He shot me a withering look over his shoulder. “Do not sneak up on me when I have a straight razor in my hand, you lunatic. You will not enjoy my startle reflex.”

My blood chilled in my veins. “What the fuck? Why do you have a straight razor? I thought you stopped cutting.”

He applied lather to his face. “I did, but I still shave. Nothing else works as well.”

“You told me not to shave.”

“Do whatever you like with your body hair. I only meant you should not feel pressured to shave for me. I do not care either way.” Rafael swept the razor across his face in confident, even strokes. “Sorry if you like beards. I hate the way facial hair feels all around.” He neatened up his work with a practiced hand and washed the remnants of lather away, watching my face in the mirror. “I shave my armpits, arms, and legs, too. No hair on my chest or back to worry about, fortunately.”

Ah, this was a test. “What about your pubes?” I asked, internally crossing my fingers against setting him off.

“No. I like having that little extra coverage. Besides, shaved balls look like a plucked chicken.”

I snort-laughed. “I’m neutral on beards and body hair, don’t worry. It’s nice not to have to kiss prickly scruff, though.”

“I always made bearded partners shave before I would kiss them.”

A laugh burst from me. “You’re such an asshole!”

“I keep telling you this.” Rafael paused, wiping his jaw with a towel. “Will the razor be a problem? It does not trigger me anymore, but I did not think of how it might affect you. I apologize. My issues are so overwhelming, I rarely worry about accommodating anyone else.”

The burst of thoughtfulness caught me so off guard I teared up. So few people really understood.

“That’s very sweet of you, but I think I’ll be ok,” I choked out.

“No, you are already emotional. I will switch to a safety razor.” Rafael folded the offending blade closed and tapped his lips with the carved handle in thought. He walked past me into the bedroom and tucked the razor into a space so high out of my reach I hadn’t realized it was there.

“There. Even with a stepladder, you cannot reach that cubby.” He frowned. “Are you ok?

I sniffled, and he took my face in his hands. I covered his hands with mine—as much as I could, since his hands spanned my entire head.

“No one I’ve dated has ever done anything that considerate for me before,” I forced out past the rising sob in my throat.

The big man bent and kissed my forehead, damp coils of hair tickling my shoulders. He drew his thumbs across my cheeks to swipe away my tears.

“You are saving me from myself in ways you do not even know yet. The least I can do is return the favor.”

“If I wasn’t in love with you before, I definitely am now.” Careful not to dislodge the towel around his waist, I pressed myself against him.