Grace asked lightly, her tone soft and casual—like she was asking what they’d have for lunch. But from the second the words left her lips, her eyes hadn’t moved an inch from Raphael’s.
She was watching him, every flicker of expression, as if trying to read the truth straight from his soul.
Raphael’s hand at her waist unconsciously tightened. His gaze darkened.
“Remember when you asked me the other day what kind of gift I liked?” he said quietly.
His other hand rose, warm palm resting gently against her cheek, as though he were touching something rare and delicate.
Grace was almost lulled by the tenderness. “What? You didn’t even answer me. I’m not that forgetful.”
She gave his chest a light, playful smack, but he didn’t laugh.
Instead, she heard him murmur against her lips, “I did
