I love the way you explore my body using your hands and the way you call me your girl.
~unknown ~
Raphael
*unedited*
"I'm hungry and sleepy," Sophie said. She was still curled up in my arms, and I was embraced in hers. My forehead slightly touching her shoulder, her arms on mine, and her legs wound on my waist.
She made me vulnerable, weak, and needy. I could have stayed in that position for hours, but hungry and sleepy was not a good combination on Sophie.
"Okay, let's take you home" I disengaged from her embrace, righting up my clothes as I watched her do the same. I couldn't help smiling at how happy I felt when doing this mundane yet special task of two people dressing up after making glorious love.
"Can't I sleep here? "
"You mean on the desk?"
"Don't you have a bed in here somewhere?" I shifted my gaze to her, trying to figure out whether she meant something else other than having an actual bed in the office.
"Cara, it's an office."
"You have a private garage and an elevator but no bed?"
"I don't sleep in the office; I sleep at home, besides you."
"Good answer. But you need to put up a bed in here for me just in case I decide to pop in to seduce you."
"Pop in to seduce me? " there was a definite surprise in my voice. I thought I heard it wrong.
"Did you say seduce me?" I swallowed hard, imagining Sophie seducing me. My mind raced, my blood boiled up, I had numerous scenarios in my head of her seducing me, and they all ended up with the two of us in a huge bed making endless love to each other.
"Yes"
"Can I have it brought right now?"
"Not right now."
"Then I'll have installed by the end of today," I said, determined. I stared at Sophie, who was now buttoning up her shirt, which was mine, but we've been sharing them since she came back.
"You've got to stop this habit of ripping off my panties every time we do this!"
She was inspecting the pantie probably trying to figure out whether it was wearable.
I wanted to apologize, but I did not. It took me back to the first time we made love; I had ripped off the one she was wearing then.
"It reminds me of our first time," she said, zipping up her jeans.
She left the shirt untucked, looking ridiculously adorable. Moving a step towards me, she put her forehead on my chest. My heartfelt, unbelievably content, thundering. I was afraid she could hear it.
I stood with my arms on her waist, my chin on her head, listening to our breath and especially mine.
"We can have takeout. I will have fries, grilled chicken, and a hamburger."
"Cara, that's al..."
"Don't say a word"
"Okay. Not a word then," I said as I scooped her up, placing her down on my leather seat.
She laid with her hands beneath her head, her feet beneath my thighs. She was my world; I had my world in that room, sleeping lightly next to me as she kept asking whether I had ordered her food.
"Am I allowed to say it's not food but junk?"
"No, you're not. But junk or not, it's still food, " she responded, hitting my right side of the bottom with her foot.
She was playful. More so than she did before she was pregnant, before the miscarriage.
This was a new side of Sophie that I hadn't seen before. I didn't know whether it was another way of dealing with loss or just embracing her sexuality and using it both on me and against the me-either way, I loved it.
Finally, our food was delivered. Sophie enthusiastically devoured hers, leaving bits and pieces of the hamburger but no chicken.
She looked beautiful, her blue eyes shone with happiness, her smile brightened my day. Her ability to respond with so much strength despite what she had gone through gave me a lot of hope for our future.
In her was so much strength; she gave me strength too because regardless of who I was or what I dealt with daily, comforting Sophie had been the hardest task of my entire life.
While she slept, I decided to have some work done, enjoying the fact that she was within touching distance.
I found myself touching her feet, her red painted nails, her hair, listening to her breathing. It was magical.
She slept through my whole afternoon and early evening. I didn't want to wake her up; I felt immense pleasure having her with me. It was almost like we were the only people in the universe.
Few minutes to 7 pm, she woke up, yawning and stretching, before she remembered she wasn't on our huge bed but a couch.
"Hello, sleeping beauty," she blushed. The sight of her looking rumpled, shy, and a bit confused took my breath away.
Sometimes I couldn't believe she was mine.
How did I get so lucky?
"Hi yourself" She sat up, sitting on the right tail of her shirt. I leaned in, kissing both her cheeks while she giggled happily, touching my hair.
I lifted her to my lap, her head comfortably on my chest. We stayed like that for a while-in silence-comfortable silence that was prove enough of how much our relationship had evolved.
"We need to be going home now before we start receiving unwanted visitors."
She reluctantly slid off me. She stood in front of me, pulling her sandals from under the desk. Her hair in disarray but gorgeous.
I picked up my car keys, following right behind her. I wanted to fling her, carry her to the car, but I knew she wouldn't appreciate the attention. But I got my wish when she swayed; I caught her, swinging her into my arms.
She was so light. But in any facet, I believed Sophie would always fit in my arms.
"Put me down," she gasped. Her arms coming around my arms, her face hidden in my neck.
Sophie
The next morning I woke up rejuvenated. I was happy; for the first time since I lost my baby, my hope was restored.
Raphael slept shirtless on his back, the bed sheet covering up to his waist, sprawled at the middle of the bed, breathing softly and seamlessly.
I knew I had been a burden since I lost our baby. It hasn't been easy on either of us, but the fact that he was with me throughout meant the world to me.
I tiptoed out of our room wearing the shirt he had worn the previous day and a multicolored shorts.
Before I could close the door, I looked back; my eyes fixed on his handsome hard face yet uncompromising even in sleep.
I remembered our tryst, and I blushed. Raphael had a way of making me lose control-throw away all caution to the wind and just live for the moment.
My cheeks flushed as I recalled the exact way he made love to me, how I had responded, how beautiful he had made me feel.
I didn't know how he felt about the baby, I hadn't been able to come up with the courage to ask, but I hoped he did not blame me.
But should there be a choice between blaming me and not wanting the baby, I would choose that he blames me.
I couldn't handle it if he said he felt nothing for our baby. It was probably unfair, but I didn't want to envision a universe where Raphael did not want our child.
I intended to ask him but not yet. Not when the loss was still so raw.
I quietly walked out in my white flip-flops.
Diego sat on the kitchen island, sipping what I imagined was coffee. He looked up when I walked in, his hazel eyes unblinkingly fixed on me.
He thought I was afraid of him, but I wasn't; he was just a mystery that I wanted to solve, but just as the other three men in my life, I knew he wouldn't volunteer any personal information, and neither would Raphael.
"Good morning Diego" my greetings came as a surprise according to how suddenly he turned his face to my voice.
He nodded at me as was our habit, lifting the cup to his lips. He had expected a nod, but I wanted to converse, and unfortunately for him, he was the only one available.
I pushed my way to the drawers and cabinets, looking for what I needed. I had promised to make banana bread for Bruno.
"No, please don't leave," I said, my voice pleading as he rose to prepare to leave. He glanced at me for a few seconds before sitting back down.
I was happily navigating the kitchen, brewing fresh coffee for the guys with Diego looking at me without saying a word. I knew he waited for me to start a conversation, and I would if I only knew what to say.
"What happened to your face?"
I knew it was tactless, and I regretted it immediately I asked it, but instead of being offended, Diego chuckled, his hazel eyes twinkling probably at my discomfort.
"Someone curved me with a knife" his voice was calm, expressionless, just as his face.
I stared at him with undisguised horror, so shocked by his unexpected reaction that I dropped the knife I was holding.
I took a slow breath, trying to formulate follow-up questions without coming off as nosey or intrusive.
"Why would anybody do that to another human being?"
Diego looked at me, puzzled, his gaze lingering on me before pointing his finger at the boiling kettle which I had totally forgotten.
"How old were you?"
"Ten"
"Oh my God!" I gasped; I could feel my tears shimmering, my hand trembling as I tried to imagine someone slashing the face of a terrified ten-year-old boy.
"Don't cry for me. It was eons ago," he breathed.
"I'm not crying," I countered. Trying to keep a straight face and failing miserably.
After a few minutes of silence and snuffling, Bruno walked in. He wore grey pajamas, socks, and designer male flip flops that I would have stolen and declared mine if they had belonged to Raphael.
"Piccola," he said, kissing my forehead.
"You're early," I retorted, looking into his face. He resembled a confused deer, but I imagined it could change within seconds if he sensed danger.
He sat directly opposite me. "How is my bread coming along."
"I made enough for everyone."
"Even him?" he asked, pointing at Diego, who had once again retreated to his cocoon.
"Yes, even him."
I brought him a cup of coffee and watched him with a smile on my face at the effect the first taste of coffee had on him.
"What would you guys do if your doctors advised against taking caffeine?"
"I would say fuck you, motherfukka."
"Bruno! Language," Raphael said from the door. His dark eyes on me.
My breath hitched, trying really hard not to stare back but failing miserably.
He grinned knowingly. A smile that announced to those present of what we did while in private. A naughty smile.
I blushed, turning my face to the oven. I heard him chuckle, and I wanted to throw the paper towel I was holding at him.
"Cara," he whispered. He was standing behind me; he leaned into me, kissing my neck. "I hate it when you leave our bed without telling me," he drawled lazily, his mouth on the curve of my neck.
"You mean the same way you do when you're going to work?"
"That is different," he argued.
"Don't start. You're a man, and I'm a woman arguement with me right now; I might decide not to give you a piece of my banana bread," I joked, spontaneously kissing his chin.
"I guess that answers the question why Bruno is awake at this hour."