"It's not your fault," he whispered, pulling her close.
Leyla felt something shatter inside her and suddenly she couldn't hold back her tears. Her hands came up to grab at his cloak as she buried her face in his shoulder. It was as if she had been waiting, holding it all together until he appeared. And now, as Raphael stroked her hair without a word, Leyla let it all go.
Her body shuddered as the grief she had bottled at the river poured out. The faces floating on the red waters left her on waves of tears.
Raphael's shirt was soon drenched, but he didn't seem to care. He just stood there, enveloping her with his warmth in the cold of the hut; lending her his strength until her tears dried up and her body quietened.
"I'm sorry," he said gently, cupping her face in his hands. He brushed the last of her tears away with his thumbs, his eyes searching her face as if for wounds. "I'm sorry I couldn't get here faster."
He was so gentle, so loving...so Raphael. Leyla reached up and kissed him. His lips were soft and warm despite the look of surprise in his eyes. She wanted his warmth, his strength...she needed him.
"Wait." His breathing uneven, Raphael pulled away. "You're upset."
Upset? What did that have to do with anything?
He read her confusion and tried to explain, "I don't want you to do anything you'll regret."
Life was short. And if tomorrow didn't go well, this would be the last time they saw each other. Was there any point in denying herself the closeness she craved? What was the use of burying her desire in this moment?
"I will not regret," Leyla moved closer, revelling in his heat. "You have my word."
The promise broke through the last of his resistance. With a small sound of surrender, Raphael pulled her up against his hard chest and bent his head. This kiss wasn't soft like before. It was hard and demanding and Leyla matched it happily. Digging her fingers into his dark hair, she pulled him closer and thrust her tongue against his. Raphael groaned at the onslaught, then grabbing her legs he lifted her around his waist and moved to the bed.
A hot feeling spread from the pit of her stomach to her limbs as he lay her down. "Leyla," he whispered her name as his hands untied the folds of her shirt. The material fell away until she was bare to his touch. "So beautiful." When his hand cupped her breast, Leyla looked away from the intensity of the feeling. Raphael trailed kisses down her exposed neck, all the way down-
"Aah!" Raphael brought his hand up to muffle her groan as he continued to play with her breasts. Leyla felt a strange pressure building somewhere low and writhed to try to relieve it. Another groan left her lips when he stilled her legs with his free hand. No! She had to move.
Pushing at the hand covering her mouth, Leyla said his name: "Raphael!" It was a question. A plea. There was something that was almost painful, something she didn't understand...
Raphael kissed her slowly, lowering his body between her legs. Her breath hitched when he moved. "Leyla," he groaned when she wrapped herself around him and lifted her back, "Slow, love. Calm." But she didn't want to slow down. It felt too good. She wanted to get closer to him. She needed to get closer. "More."
"Damn it," Raphael pressed his forehead against hers, his breathing laboured. Then he was shifting, pulling at his trousers and then her own. When he touched her core, she almost came off the bed with the intensity of the sensation. "Shh," he kissed her gently, calming her as best as he could. "Leyla."
The seriousness of his tone made her focus. He was watching her, the firelight from beyond the window turning his eyes a liquid gold. "I love you."
I love you too. The words wouldn't leave her lips, so she reached up and kissed him with everything she had. Raphael moaned into her mouth, wrapped his arms around her, then pushed into heat.