Grace sat there, right in his lap, dazed but not trying to get away. Her back rested against his chest, and she could feel the steady, powerful beat of his heart.
Raphael leaned in close, his warm breath brushing her ear. He reached for the crème brûlée, pulling it toward them. As he moved, his cheek brushed her hair, grazing her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.
She suddenly felt like she was curled up next to a resting lion—calm for now, but radiating heat, coiled strength just beneath the surface.
He could snap at any moment, yet here he was, wrapped around her, doing exactly as she asked. She wanted him to feed her, and without a word, he dipped the silver spoon into the dessert, cracking the caramel layer, scooping up a bite, and brought it to her lips.
Grace parted her lips,
