Beyond The Veil (A Paranormal Romance)

Chapter 12

Raphael was lying wide awake in bed, staring at the white ceiling of his bedroom. Had he really done that?

Yes, stupid, you have. The voice inside his brain mocked him. One step closer to the unemployment line.

He freed himself of the comforter and got up. Trying to be as quiet as possible, he went into the living room.

On his couch, wrapped in a white fluffy blanket, a beautiful little girl greeted him with a shy smile.

"Can't sleep, Emily?" he asked.

She shook her head. "You can't either."

"No." He sat down beside her. "Thinking too much."

"Yeah," she sighed "Me too."

On her cheeks he could make out traces of tears. She had been crying. In a reflex, his hand laid softly on the side of her neck, his thumb carefully brushing her jawline. "It will be alright. You're safe now. That's all that matters."

Suddenly and without warning he felt her head on his chest, her arms wrapped around his body. Taken completely by surprise, he didn't move. He was absolutely still, not returning her embrace, but he didn't push her away either. This closeness felt way too good. He knew she was looking for comfort and he wanted to provide it, wanted to say something to make it better, but with her holding on to him so tightly, he could feel her heart pounding against his muscles, her sweet face buried in the fabric of his shirt, and it completely threw him off the track. He was unable to find the right words, any words, to soothe her. Instead, a small yet persistent flame inside of him flared up, sending waves of heat through every inch of his body.

He inhaled deeply. The subtle scent of roses filled the air. Her shampoo, he thought, as his fingertips gently ran through her silky hair. She gave a small sigh in response to his caress and snuggled even closer against him. The light texture of the shirt he had given her to sleep in didn't do a very good job of shielding him from the painfully sensual touch of her breast, pressing against him, warm and inviting. He tensed as the flush of heat grew stronger and stronger by the second.

"I feel safe with you," she breathed into his chest.

For God's sake, get a grip, you idiot, the voice of reason forcefully reported back to him.

What had he said to her? He was not that kind of asshole. Well, he was being that asshole right this minute. Here she was, vulnerable, hurt, seeking solace in his arms, and all he focused on was her tender body leaning flush against him, the floral scent of her hair, the softness of her breasts. His mouth got dry and he swallowed hard.

"Emily," he whispered, carefully restoring a safe distance between them. She looked up to him, questioningly.

"Emily," he mumbled again, not knowing what to say next but he hoped his eyes would do the deed.

"I'm sorry." She retreated to the other end of the couch, blushing, her head down.

Why was she sorry? He was the one who should be sorry. And he was. He was ashamed of the fact that he had had a weak moment in which he might have taken advantage of the situation, had his sense of reason not held him back at the right moment.

"Don't apologize. You didn't do anything that requires an apology. It's just ... "

"Inappropriate, I know. I wasn't thinking." She gnawed on her bottom lip.

"Yes, it was." What a prick you are, Raphael. That didn't help at all.

Her face had taken on such a deep shade of red, she must have been embarrassed down to the bone. A hot iron needle went right through his heart. Or at least, the feeling must have been similar. It was he who had made her feel like that when all he actually wanted was to be the guy she could always turn to, the guy who would never let her down. Now, by rejecting her closeness, he had in fact let her down, making her all timid again. He needed to make it better.

"But nice also." He smiled at her in an attempt to cheer her up, but it seemed to have the opposite effect.

Huddled up in the couch cushions, her cheeks flushed even more as she avoided to meet his gaze.

Do something, he yelled at himself. Ease her, idiot!

"You know," he began in a low voice. "You being here at my place, wearing my shirt, is kind of inappropriate, too."

Finally she looked at him. But what he saw in her eyes made his stomach ache. It was the expression of utter loneliness, of being absolutely forlorn. Great job, Cole.

He scooted a little bit closer. "So, I guess it doesn't make much of a difference now." A smile flashed over his face as he saw her puzzlement. "I wish I could give you all the comfort in the world, I want to be there whenever you need me, but there is a limit as to what I can do. Being as physically close to you as I was just now definitely qualifies as one of those limits."

He examined her carefully while he waited for her to say something. But she didn't. She just nodded.

"I'm sorry," he added. His apology was truly heartfelt. If he could have it his way, he would hold her all night, caressing her beautiful face, wiping away her tears, giving her all the warmth he was capable of giving. It tormented him that it wasn't possible. But there was one thing he still could do for her. Why he didn't think of it in the first place, he couldn't tell. A fine gentleman he was.

He took her hand and stood, making her get up as well. "Come," he said. "You're sleeping in my bed, I'll take the couch."