Chapter 142

142 142- When Rafael Sinclair Makes Love

“Maybe you can show me how to love… oh ooo…” she started singing as soon as she got down from the car.

“Marissa, wait!” she didn’t even give him a chance to open the door for her.

“I can open my Goddamn door. Hehe…” she twirled and then tried to shake her ass, “Maybe you can show me how to love, maybe… I’m going through with drawls… maybe you can show me…” She stumbled a little and was about to fall when two strong arms were at once around her waist. “Dear, old Rafael. Always on time. Like a superhero!” she was so loud that Rafael was sure the neighborhood could hear her announcement.

“Give me your purse, honey,” he spread his palm in front of her eyes. Marissa who was leaning into his hard body scrunched her nose.

“My purse? No! Go get your own money. Haha. It’s mine,” she was in stitches.

“Marissa!” Rafael rolled his eyes, “I need the door keys. Now come on, sweetie.”

“Sweetie! Did you call me sweetie? Nobody ever called me sweetie, Rafael!” her eyes welled up. She wanted to cry but then stopped and frowned to herself, “I think I’m forgetting something.”

“Forgetting what?” he demanded.

“I don’t remember what I’m forgetting, silly. Ha–ha.”

Gritting his teeth, Rafael tried to take her purse, but she pulled it away, tightening her grip, “No. It’s useless for you anyway. It’s a lady’s purse. Or are you planning to present it to your dear wife? Ha–ha. Again, she found it funny.

Rafael managed to get hold of her purse and started fishing for the keys.

“Tell me, Rafael, her voice was barely above a whisper, “Will you give my purse to her? To

Valerie?”

“And why would I do that?” he was having problem with the contents inside it. Everything could be seen there except the damn pair of keys.

“Because you love your wi… Right?”

“Dammit, Marissa. She isn’t my wife, out of frustration he flipped her purse and emptied the contents on the concrete trail outside the entrance door.

There it was.

He looked over his shoulder where the suited men were standing, “Place everything back in

there.”

He leaned over to scoop her up in his arms and started walking to the door.

“You are asking him to place everything back, she made a pout, “Flash news, Rafael. Not

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142 142- When Rafael Sincla

Sinclair Makes Love

everything could be placed back now.“”

He quietly opened the door and got inside.

“Put me down,” she stifled her nose, “I still don’t remember what I’m forgetting She made a pout, “I want to cry, she then glared at him, “I said put me down!”

“Not here,” he managed to switch on the lights and walked to her room.

“So, what was I saying?” she thought hard.

“To put you down,” he tried to twist the handle of the door.

“Nah! Before that,”

“Not everything could be placed back, he reminded her and then placed her gently on the bed.

“Yeah. Not everything can be placed back… and you can’t place me back. And no one can’t place

me back too.”

She was chattering like a toddler not realizing about the sentence formation or the grammar.

“But I just did,” he gestured towards her bed and moved ahead to take off her sandals.

“N–no. I’m not talking about this bed, silly, she hiccupped, “Oh look at this room. It’s also spinning,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “Rafael. Are you sure it’s not an earthquake?”

He tossed her sandals aside and started pressing her feet.

“Who asked you to gulp down so much alcohol? Your system isn’t used to it, princess,” his voice remained soft while talking to her.

“Yeah. But I dressed like this after such a long time. How do I look?” she spread her arms on both sides and asked him in an over–excited voice.

“Beautiful. As usual,” he got up to look for her night dress and then drew a t–shirt from her wardrobe, “let me help you in changing this dress.”

She hurriedly folded her arms in front of her chest, “I can’t. I don’t want you to look at these… fatty…” With one hand she held her boob and pressed it with a pout, “Don’t you think they should be a bit smaller?”

She asked him innocently and this time he bit back a smile, “They are perfect.”

“Are they?” she looked at his face closely, “Even better than Valeric?”

Rafael got a little uneasy with the discussion.

“Little Greene. Come on. Let me help you. I promise I won’t look at you,” He said and held the hem of her dress, “now lift your hips a little so that I can lift it up.”

At first, she didn’t move and then placed her hands on his shoulders to lift herself up. Rafael wanted to laugh. He wasn’t expecting her to hold him for this task. She could easily do it by placing her palms on the bed.

As a result, she was in a very awkward position. Using both hands, he pulled the dress up to her waist, trying to ignore that she wasn’t wearing shorts but a pair of skimpy panties,

142 142–Whon Rafael Sinclair Makes Love

“Hell!” he shifted his focus to her face, she was yawning now and then..

“See! Just to avoid that discussion you ran to the nightclub. And that fool. He couldn’t even keep you safe”

“Gerard didn’t know that this man could do something like this,” Rafael didn’t like it when she tried to defend that man even when she was this tipsy, “by now he must be getting worried

about me.”

“Worried? My ass!” he reached behind her to pull her zipper down. When she leaned ahead, she found his shirt opened from the front.

“Your muscles… I always loved them…” Her finger started trailing on his chest.

“Stop teasing me, Little Greene., let me do my job.”

“Job!” her eyes snapped up, “and what is it?”

“To keep you safe!” he slowly lifted her dress above her head.

Damn!

He didn’t want to look at her. Just a few days back he already teased her for seeing his body when he was blind while he didn’t know what she looked like.

Yes. His hands knew her every body part. They knew how she felt. He had touched her everywhere.

“Rafael!”

“Hmm?” he unhooked her bra and took it off. This was proving to be the biggest test of his life.

“What? Don’t you like me? Look at me!” before he could say something, she held his face and

turned it to her.

Their eyes met and she could see fire in those eyes.

“Don’t you like me?” she repeated her question.

With a hint of mischievous glint, without breaking the eye contact, he picked up her t–shirt and started pulling it over her head.

“No matter how much I like you, princess,” he helped her with the sleeves and then let the t–shirt fall, covering her body. He then bent a little to get closer to her mouth, “Whenever I’ll make love to you. That will be with your consent. Not when you won’t be able to enjoy it.”

“B…but I will enjoy it now too,” Her eyes and voice showed desperation.

He shook his head and kissed her nose tip, “Yes. You will. But you won’t remember any of it in the morning. When Rafael Sinclair makes love to his wife, his voice had dropped to a whisper, “he’ll make sure that she remembers every detail the next morning.”

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