Chapter 3 Three

I was too inebriated to recall the details of his car, but I remained acutely aware of my surroundings.

But, wait...

Who was this man?.

My mind raced with questions, each more unsettling than the last.

What if he's a serial killer?

What if he's unstable?

What if this night ends in tragedy?

These thoughts circled endlessly as I tried to steady myself. He gently placed me into the passenger seat, securing my seatbelt with deliberate care, though his fingers brushed against my chest in the process.

It could feel the goosebumps on my spine. The brief contact sent a heat surging through me, igniting desires I hadn't anticipated.

What was wrong with me? I wanted more of his touch-I wanted him, and I knew, it wouldn't be a one time thing.

"Where do you live?" he asked suddenly, his voice breaking through my tumultuous thoughts and causing me to jolt.

He sighed, his tone softening.

"You need to relax. I'm not going to hurt you. Now, where do you live?" His eyes held an intensity that was both reassuring and disarming, laced with a strange tenderness that caught me off guard.

I hesitated but eventually gave him my address. He started the engine, and the car roared to life.

The drive was shrouded in silence, save for the sound of my erratic heartbeat. Yet, even in the quiet, his presence was overpowering.

As the car dashed through the streets, I could feel myself about, to throw up. The Nausea was starting to hit me badly. Each time he shifted gears, his hand would brush against my thigh, sending an electric current through me.

Was it deliberate?

If so, it was working-I was dangerously close to surrendering to temptation. After what felt like an eternity, I summoned the courage to speak.

"Thank you... I really appreciate this. My name is Amanda." He nodded in acknowledgment but said nothing. His silence felt like a challenge, his indifference infuriatingly captivating.

"I'm Raphael," he finally said, his voice calm and measured. Raphael. The name suited him-elegant, otherworldly. Like the archangel himself, he seemed almost unreal, a man carved from marble, perfect in every way.

Yet there was something enigmatic about him, a haunting sadness that piqued my curiosity.

What had made him this way?.

What pain did he carry beneath that stoic exterior?.

"What's your favorite color?" he asked suddenly, his voice devoid of emotion but tinged with genuine curiosity.

The question startled me. Of all things to ask, why that?.

"Yellow," I replied, biting my lip. He nodded again, offering no further comment.

"What's your favorite fruit?" he asked next. The oddity of his questions made me uneasy, but I answered regardless, aware of how vulnerable I was in his car.

"Bananas," I said, swallowing the lump forming in my throat.

Another nod.

"And your favorite season?" he asked, his voice carrying a quiet authority that sent a chill down my spine.

"Summer," I murmured, my voice trembling slightly. Sensing my discomfort, he glanced at me briefly before returning his focus to the road.

"Don't be afraid. I'm only asking to help you feel at ease." I sighed, still wary but slightly comforted by his reassurance.

Exhaustion began to take over, my head spinning from the alcohol and the weight of the evening.

"We're here," he said, parking the car and turning off the ignition. His gaze met mine, and for a moment, I saw it-raw pain and loneliness etched into his features.

It was as if he longed for something he couldn't name, a silent plea for solace. Before I could stop myself, I leaned in and kissed him. The moment our lips met, it felt like the universe had aligned.

His kiss was passionate, consuming, as if he had been waiting for this. His hands cupped my face, holding me in place, while one slid to my thigh, igniting a fire within me.

Every touch, every movement, spoke of longing and need. I could feel his pain, his hunger for connection, and I wanted to give him everything-though I hardly knew him.

He bit my lower lip, sending a shiver through me before whispering against my mouth.

"Oh, Amanda." His voice was a caress, and he kissed me again, deeply, with an intensity that left me breathless. But then, the shrill sound of his phone broke the spell.

I glanced at the screen, and there it was-a name: Bella. Jealousy surged through me, sharp and sudden.

Who was Bella?.

Was he married?.

Shame washed over me as reality came crashing back. What was I doing, kissing a man I barely knew?.

He silenced the call and moved to kiss me again, but I pulled away.

"I think... I need to get some sleep". I said, my voice tinged with regret and embarrassment.

"You sure that's what you want? What about the wetness between your thighs? I want to taste it," he said, his voice commanding, his gaze unwavering.

My breath hitched. How could he say such things so brazenly, so unapologetically?.

"What the-". He cut me off immediately .

"Judging by how sweet your lips are, I can only imagine how sweet you'd taste down there," he continued, his tone dark and deliberate, his eyes burning with desire. I felt my resolve crumbling, but I couldn't let myself fall any further.

"Thank you for bringing me home. Have a good night," I said quickly, opening the car door and escaping into the safety of my apartment.

Once inside, I locked the door and peered through the window. He was still there, sitting in his Porsche.

A Porsche?!.

My heart raced at the realization. He wasn't just mysterious-he was wealthy. After a few minutes, he finally drove off, leaving me with my thoughts.

I took a cold shower, trying to wash away the lingering heat of his touch. But as I lay in bed, his face, his voice and the way he made me feel, haunted my dreams.

And that's when I knew, I'd remember him, for the rest of my life.