I don’t want you to get hurt anymore.
For the first time Raphael was forced to reckon with the concept that she perhaps cared for him, and he had no idea what to do with that information. He was no stranger to having women fancy him, though usually it was for superficial reasons—money, his appearance, his family name. He flirted and he wooed, usually just for the fun of it. He wasn't used to emotions coming into play, and he reminded himself that he could not get involved with a woman like Rowan Yaxley.
Or he tried to.
The skin under his shirt tingled with every brush of her hand against the fabric. They were the same tingles he felt when he ran his fingertips across her skin and down the side of her face before lowering his hand. He didn't feel this much of a physical reaction when he laid with whores or gripped the waists of dainty debutantes tighter than he ought to simply to amuse himself with their flushed cheeks. It was ridiculous to feel this way, hauled up in a dirty shack in the late hours of the night after performing legilimency on a woman with tears in her eyes, but in a way it felt perfectly normal. He'd always felt this way around her, he realized—even when he wasn't touching her.
It was fortunate, Raphael thought, that Yaxley pulled away when she did. He allowed her to wriggle out of his grasp, pushing himself to his feet just as she did. If they'd sat together any longer he didn't think he'd have stopped himself from doing something he'd regret the next morning. She was scared, sad, and vulnerable—he ought to be ashamed for thinking of her like this at all.
"Rowan—" he started, reaching out to catch her wrist. He internally cringed at the use of her first name but kept his expression even. "No rash decisions. Please. Write to me. Visit me if you must."
For the first time Raphael was forced to reckon with the concept that she perhaps cared for him, and he had no idea what to do with that information. He was no stranger to having women fancy him, though usually it was for superficial reasons—money, his appearance, his family name. He flirted and he wooed, usually just for the fun of it. He wasn't used to emotions coming into play, and he reminded himself that he could not get involved with a woman like Rowan Yaxley.
Or he tried to.
The skin under his shirt tingled with every brush of her hand against the fabric. They were the same tingles he felt when he ran his fingertips across her skin and down the side of her face before lowering his hand. He didn't feel this much of a physical reaction when he laid with whores or gripped the waists of dainty debutantes tighter than he ought to simply to amuse himself with their flushed cheeks. It was ridiculous to feel this way, hauled up in a dirty shack in the late hours of the night after performing legilimency on a woman with tears in her eyes, but in a way it felt perfectly normal. He'd always felt this way around her, he realized—even when he wasn't touching her.
It was fortunate, Raphael thought, that Yaxley pulled away when she did. He allowed her to wriggle out of his grasp, pushing himself to his feet just as she did. If they'd sat together any longer he didn't think he'd have stopped himself from doing something he'd regret the next morning. She was scared, sad, and vulnerable—he ought to be ashamed for thinking of her like this at all.
"Rowan—" he started, reaching out to catch her wrist. He internally cringed at the use of her first name but kept his expression even. "No rash decisions. Please. Write to me. Visit me if you must."
set by lady <3