Raphael’s gaze lingered on the plump, glistening grapes. His fingers, still wrapped around the glass, twitched slightly before he set it back down on the edge of the tub.
With those long, clean fingers, he plucked a single grape and, under Grace’s expectant stare, slowly brought it toward her lips.
Grace’s eyes curved with delight as she parted her lips ever so slightly. Her tongue met the grape first, slowly drawing it into her mouth.
Raphael’s eyes locked on her lips, unable to look away. Just as he was about to pull his hand back, he felt it—a soft, warm brush against his fingertips. It was quick, but unmistakable.
His lashes trembled faintly before he lifted his gaze to meet hers—those wide, innocent eyes.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his voice low and rough. “Was i
