"You don't hate me now?" he asks with surprise as if he thought I'd already be gone by this time or something.
"I feel sorry for you that you had to go through this all by yourself and..."
"No, don't," he interrupts, shaking his head. "I can't stand you feeling pity for me. I wasn't alone; I had my sister."
"Raphael, it's not the pity that I feel; it's..." I stop because I can't find the right words.
I feel sorry for him but in a good way. It's like I’m finally seeing him as not only a rich man but a man with feelings. Now I know for sure that he's capable of true feelings. It's kind of calming me down.
I stand from my chair and lean to Raphael, and, without thinking twice, I wrap my hands around his neck and give him a kiss.
At first, he is slightly surprised, but he recoveres quickly, responding to my kiss and taking me with both of his hands to place me onto his lap.
We kiss like that for some time. I dig my fingers into his hair and brush them gently. He slowly and passionately strokes my back with his arms, and all of it feels so natural. As if we’ve been a couple for a long time, and it's just another evening we are spending together, kissing and hugging.
"How tipsy are you?" he asks, pulling away from me slightly.
"I'm not tipsy at all. Stop assuming that!" I protest with a smile, brushing my nose against his.
"Well, then I guess it's time for dessert." He smiles and grabs me harder, standing from the table, holding me bride-style.
"I am actually full, but if you prepared a soufflé, I'd give it a try," I tease him, knowing exactly what he means bydessert.
"Ms. Burton, you're playing with fire." He kisses me again as we head to the staircase. "Now that you're here, I don't think I'll ever let you go."
"Oh, but I can't stay," I say with sadness. "I've never left Marie alone for the whole night."
"Well, then I'll drive you home when you're done," he exhales, slightly disappointed, trying to kiss me, but I pull away.
"WhenI'm done? What about you?" I ask, offended. If he's gonna give me pleasure, I want to give it back to him, too.
"I haven't had sex in over three hundred years. Do you think I'll ever be done?" He smiles at me, and it takes me some time to realize that he's not joking.
"You haven't..." I can't even finish this sentence. I can't imagine someone as hot as Raphael Darrington staying celibate for even a month.
"I was waiting for my mate," he says seriously as we enter his bedroom.
It's beautiful. Nothing like I've ever imagined a vampire's bedroom would be. The furniture is made of dark redwood, and the parquet on the floor is hazel brown. Deep beige curtains are drawn on a window, and creamy sheets are lying on the bed, as fresh as if no one has ever slept on them.
"Do you ever sleep?" I ask when he gently places me on the bed.
"I'm dead, I don't need that," he says, and those words don't seem real; for me, he's very much alive.
"Then why do you have a bed?" I keep insisting.
Raphael leans onto the bed closer to me and looks deeply into my eyes. "Don't you get it, Katie? I’ve been waiting for you for all of my life."
Chapter Eighteen
Katie
His eyes are so dark, almost black, as he looks at me. He's hungry—hungry for me.
The lust building between my legs while we kissed at that table is now growing with an incredible force. And I know that he can feel it too.
"I have to tell you something," I start before he continues to kiss me.
I inhale deeply because it's hard to admit such things when you're twenty-two.