Escalation

by Tessa Teevan

  Her eyebrows narrow and she purses her lips, unamused by my attitude. “And you are?” she asks, apparently not having been apprised of the crazed boyfriend. Not to mention I just told her that Brie was my girlfriend.

  “Her boyfriend. One who very much wants to get her home,” I insist.

  “That’s strange,” she says mostly to herself. She types at the computer and then looks up at me. “The man that was just on the phone… He was calling to ask about her condition. He was very flustered when I told him we couldn’t give him that information over the phone. Not even to family members. It’s hospital policy.”

  “Her family?” I ask, wondering what the fuck is going on.

  She nods. “He said he was her father.”

  Dread runs through me, chilling me to my bones. “That’s impossible,” I tell her.

  “Why?”

  “Because her father is dead.”

  As if on cue, my cell vibrates from my pocket. But instead of answering, I hit ignore.

  There will be hell to pay for that, I’m sure, but I don’t care. I’m tired of answering to him. I’m tired of being at his beck and call. I’m tired of so many damn things right now, especially when all I want to do is crawl into bed with a beautiful woman. My beautiful woman. I refuse to let him get in the way of that.

  It’s time I start doing things my way.

  RAFE’S CHANGE IN DEMEANOR was unsettling to say the least. As soon as he stalked across the room, I had to say something. Only, when I called his name out and he paused, I willed him to turn and look at me. He didn’t. Then I was at a loss for words. The air between us was tense and thick, and I hated it. I wanted to erase it all, the past twelve hours, but I couldn’t. And neither could he.

  He’s been gone for at least fifteen minutes now, and I wonder what’s keeping him. I lay my head back against the pillow and stare at the clock on the wall. This is the first time I’ve had to myself since I woke up, and the events of the day start to seep in.

  How have I ended up in my very own version of a soap opera? A clandestine affair. A kidnapping. A car accident.

  And now, a pregnancy? All I need is a “who’s the daddy” storyline and it would be complete.

  In all honesty, I did panic for a moment.

  Before Rafe sauntered into the trailer yesterday and asked me to move in with him, I’d been studying the calendar. Only minutes before I had realized that I was late. Like, weeks late. The whirlwind of being with Rafe had rendered me temporarily mindless, and it wasn’t until then that I’d even given a second thought to my missing cycle.

  I remember thinking that it couldn’t be possible. I’ve been on birth control since before I even met Adrian, and I’ve never missed a pill.

  Still…there’s that one little percentage that is ineffective. Was I in that percent? And if I was, how did I feel about it? God, how would Rafe feel about it?

  Then I calculated the timeline, and the prospect was suddenly as terrifying as it was thrilling.

  It could be either man’s baby.

  Even as a shiver ran down my spine, I shook my head, telling myself that I didn’t even know if it was true. That’s when Rafe came in, and well, everything after that is history.

  With the doctor in the room, I wanted to know, but I didn’t want to freak Rafe out. It’s why I whispered my question. As soon as the doctor smiled down at me, I knew.

  It was still thrilling. It was still terrifying. As I waited for the nurse to come in with the equipment, I wondered what I was going to do. What could I even do?

  The baby was a product of one of two men.

  Was it the one who’d tried to kill me even though he’d claimed he was protecting me?

  Or was it the one who’s been lying to me since the day we met? The one who still makes my heart flutter regardless of the truth. Whatever that may be.

  It was overwhelming, the wondering, and as thoughts of paternity tests swirled in my head, I was nearly dizzy with the confliction of elation and anguish.

  The nurse, however, estimated that I was six weeks along, which meant only one thing.

  Rafe is definitely the father.

  His reaction was stunning. We’d never talked about children. Hell, we’d barely even talked about a future, and now, we are connected for life. I’d half expected him to freak out. And still, I wasn’t surprised at his joy. It was almost as if he were welcoming our forever connection. If I’m honest with myself, I’m completely welcoming of it as well.

  With a smile on my lips, I rest my head back on the pillow. It’s all I can do to keep my heavy eyelids open. Eventually, I give up the fight, ready for exhaustion to take me. Sleep is all I want right now.

  Well, that and him.

  But how can I still want him when I don’t even know who he really is? This emotional flip-flop is already driving me crazy. I want to be angry. I want to hate him. I want to push him away and make him promise to never come back because I’ll never be able to trust him again.

  And yet, I want him near. I want him to take me home, hold me close and tell me that everything be okay. That we’re going to be a family, the three of us, and he’ll cherish and protect me forever. So yes, in my heart I still want Rafe, even though I know I shouldn’t.

  As if my heart has some kind of beacon, it quickens when the door opens.

  “What’s that smile for?” His soft voice fills my ears.

  Then he takes advantage of my lethargy and steals a kiss. His lips are a delicate contrast to the scratchiness of his stubble that sweeps across my chin. The all-encompassing kiss is slow and sweet. It’s all Rafe. And with my eyes closed, I allow this tiny reprieve. Everything else fades away. Right now, it’s just the two of us, and that’s all that matters.

  Correction.

  It’s the three of us, and the thought causes my heart to swell with a vast array of emotion.

  We could be a family.

  I could finally have a family again.

  My eyes flutter open, and his gaze startles me. I gasp against his mouth, and he answers with a slow grin as he pulls back.

  “I believe I asked you a question,” he whispers, bringing his hand up to cup my cheek. His thumb rubs along my lower lip, and I have the sudden urge to bite it. “Why were you smiling? Not that I’m complaining. You’re never more beautiful than when you smile.”

  “I’m pregnant,” I whisper. There’s no point in hiding it from him. I want him to know that, despite everything, I’m deliriously happy about the pregnancy. “That’s more than enough of a reason to smile if you ask me.”

  “Correction,” he murmurs, and my brow furrows. “You’ve never been more beautiful than you are now. Carrying my child.”

  My heart leaps and twirls and twists at his words. It’s my weakness, this man, and even though I shouldn’t let him further ingrain himself in my heart, it’s too late. He’s already buried so deep that he’ll never leave.

  Hell, he doesn’t just have my heart. He has my soul. He has every little piece of me.

  Not that I’ll let him know. Not yet, anyway. I may be a goner, but it’s my secret and I’m keeping it until I have answers to all of my questions. That doesn’t mean I won’t silently relish every word, every touch, every kiss I can elicit from him in the time being.

  “Brie.” It’s barely a whisper on his lips as his eyes search mine. Even though I told him to forget it, that he’d lost the right to call me that, I’m glad he refuses to accept it.

  “Rafe,” I sigh. It’s all I can say. It’s all I need to say. In this place, in this moment of time, nothing else matters. We’re Brie and Rafe. All too soon, we’ll be thrust back into a world full of secrets and lies. For now, we’re soaking in what bit of intimacy and normalcy we can.

  The air around us is no longer thick or full of tension. It’s electric. Spellbinding, even. If I could stay in this place and time forever, I probably would. I’m not ready for this to end. I’m not prepared for the bubble to burst.

  And then it doe
s in the form of a perky, young nurse. She opens the door, asking if we’re ready to go home.

  I give an inadvertent shake of my head.

  I’m nowhere near ready for what’s awaiting me outside those hospital doors. Or in his apartment. Or at the agency.

  A protest is on the tip of my tongue, but Rafe’s eyes light up, his lips tilt up, and his nostrils flare at the prospect.

  “I’ve never been more ready for anything,” he answers, his eyes still gazing into mine.

  And in my weakness, I believe every single word.

  She let me kiss her.

  It was more than I deserved, but it felt like a triumphant victory—even if it was temporary. There’s something to be said for small victories.

  Still, I wouldn’t push her. I promised myself I wouldn’t.

  But the way she said home… Even if it’s the only one she thinks she has, it’s the only one she’ll ever need.

  I just have to convince her of that.

  By any means necessary.

  I THOUGHT I’D BE relieved when I was discharged, but the truth is, the closer we get to Rafe’s apartment, the more the uneasiness sets in. What am I even doing? Why have I put myself in this situation again? And still, how can I even compare the two?

  By the time we’re inside, I’m exhausted from the mental back-and-forth. All I want is a hot shower and a warm bed. It pisses me off that I don’t want to do either alone. I’m annoyed with myself. I’m irritated with Rafe, and the last thing I want to do is deal with any of this. For at least a few hours, I want to pretend that the last day didn’t happen.

  Something, however, tells me that’s wishful thinking. An uncomfortable silence descends over us, as if neither of us knows what to say. It was inevitable, but it happened too quickly. The magic and dreaminess of the baby has faded, and it’s time to face the music.

  Or I could opt for total avoidance.

  Just as I turn to walk towards the guest bedroom, Rafe’s strong hands grip my shoulders and he pushes me towards the kitchen, not stopping until he has me sitting on a stool. I sit, watching as he pulls eggs and vegetables out of the refrigerator. It’s not until he places two plates on the counter that I stand, shaking my head.

  “I’m not hungry. I’m going to bed,” I whisper, not looking at him.

  “Food first, bed later,” he says, not even bothering to glance up from the eggs he’s now whisking.

  “No.”

  It’s only one word, but it’s harsh enough to draw his attention. His gaze informs me he’s not pleased and he places a hand on his hips as he uses the other to point a spatula at me. “Brie, you need to eat,” he prompts.

  Mild annoyance quickly turns to, what I’m guessing is, hormonic rage at the stern tone of his voice. The exhaustion, exasperation, and the effects of the proverbial tilt-a-whirl that Rafe’s subjected my emotions to finally become just too much to bear, and I just snap. The loose hold on my sanity cracks, and I unleash on him.

  “I don’t want to fucking eat!” I shriek, slamming my fist down on the counter. The plates jump, rattling against the granite, but I barely notice the pain in my hand, or the burn in my throat. “You are not my keeper, Rafe Matthews. If I don’t want to eat, I won’t freaking eat. And right now, I do not want to eat,” I seethe through clenched teeth. “And you, of all people, can’t make me.”

  I sound like a petulant child, but just as I’m about to take it back, he crosses his arms and has the audacity to glare at me. The expression on his face has my blood boiling. Seriously. Who the hell does he think he is? I’ve already lived with one man who tried to run my life. I’m not doing it again. “No, I’m not, and I don’t plan to be. But you need to take care of yourself.”

  Balling my hands into fists, ones I wish I could use to pummel his chest, I glare at him. “Exactly. I can take care of myself. I might as well get used to it anyway. We both know I’m only here because Adrian’s still out there.”

  His eyes narrow, and even though the words hurt to say, I can’t stop them. This is the outburst I should’ve had in the hospital. I had no idea it was brewing, but now that I’ve started, I can’t seem to stop the words from pouring out.

  “Whatever we had? It drowned right along with me. There’s no us. God, there probably never even was.”

  The words shock the both of us, and my hand flies to my mouth. I’m exhausted, hurt, scared, and I’m lashing out, saying things I don’t mean, but unable to stop myself.

  His hands flex and ball into fists several times as he mimics my action, and his jaw tightens as he tries to keep a leash on his anger. He places his palms flat on the granite and leans forward, his eyes seeking mine. His gaze is unsettling, and self-loathing over what I’m doing sets in. Not that he doesn’t deserve at least a little bit of my scorn.

  “You’re carrying my child, Brie. Like it or not, there is an us. There will always be an us. And I know you don’t want to hear it yet, the words I so desperately want to say to you, so I’ll wait. I’ll give you what you need. Time, space, whatever it is. But I promise you everything I said was true. No matter how hard you try to fight it, I’m going nowhere.” He pauses, clenching his fists yet again before placing them on the counter and leaning in close. “Fuck, Brie, you need to know. I’m in—”

  “No!” I shout, holding a hand up. “Don’t say it. Please, don’t say what I think you’re about to say right now. I just… I need to be alone. Please.”

  His face falls as he nods. But then he rounds the counter and gently lifts my chin until I’m looking into his eyes. God, do they have to be so blue? So expressive? Because the eyes staring down at me are full of what he’s trying to convey, and it’s impossible to ignore. I have to tear my eyes away because I know he means it and I’m simply not ready. The little resolve I have left will crumble into tiny pebbles and clouds of dust if he says those words aloud.

  “I’ll wait as long as I have to. I will do whatever it takes to make you trust me again. I swear it.”

  “Words, Rafe. Those are just beautiful words. Ones that, one day, I hope I can believe, but right now, I just… I just can’t.”

  With that, I turn and walk away. And unlike Adrian, he lets me.

  Because, also unlike Adrian, he knows what I need and will give it to me.

  And fuck if my walls aren’t already crumbling.

  Or have crumbled, because the farther I get from him, the more intense the pull is. The harder each subsequent step is. The more painful our separation becomes, and I can no longer take it. In this moment of weakness, I’m both mentally and physically drained. I just want to stop thinking about what happened. All I want is Rafe to make me forget, even if I end up regretting letting him get this close to me again.

  So I tell my heart that I’m sorry then turn on my heel. He’s still watching me, his face crestfallen and utterly forlorn.

  Even as I launch myself at him, I’m unsure if I intend to claw his face or his back. Or, possibly, both.

  Either way, he’s unprepared, and when I vault into his arms, he stumbles backwards, nearly slipping on the tile. As I wrap my legs around his waist, his hands circle around my back and cup my ass, steadying us both. My arms cling to his shirt, making tiny fists as I yank him down to meet my lips. I crash my lips to his, kissing him desperately, unabashedly, and probably a bit recklessly. Not that I can even begin to make myself care. For right now, I want to forget everything from the past twenty-four hours and, for one more night, be who we were before the insanity of the situation actually sinks in.

  I rock my hips against him, squirming and groaning at the material between us. All I want is this connection between us. I want him inside me, but he doesn’t return my kiss. My nails dig into the back of his head as I bite his lower lip. He spins us around and pushes me against the wall, tearing his mouth away from mine in the process. My lips tingle and my skin sizzles, waiting for him to give me more.

  “Rafe, take me… Right here, right now. You want to help me? Then do this.”
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  The conflict in his eyes is unmistakable, and I want to look away. He doesn’t allow that, however, as his strong hand grips my chin and demands my attention. His gaze penetrates, and for a split second, my confidence falters. But then he whispers my name. The sound is so soft that I almost don’t hear the anguish in it.

  “Brie,” he repeats as if he’s trying to stop me. Or himself.

  The thing is that I don’t want to stop, and I refuse to allow it. He moans the moment my lips find his, and he rocks against me, his hard erection digging into my sex.

  “Why are you talking?” I mutter into his mouth. My hand comes down to cup him through his dress pants. “And why are you still clothed?”

  My ravenous hunger for him is growing by the second, making me burn hotter. I squirm and rub and rock over him, the delicious friction satisfying but not nearly enough.

  “More,” I pant, breaking our kiss and looking up at him just in time to see a slight shake of his head.

  “Fuck.”

  He mutters that four-letter word I so desperately want, but he tries to dislodge my legs. Instead, I wrap them tighter. He wants me. I want him. It’s that simple. I don’t know how I’ll feel in the morning—or even a week or a month from now—but right now, I want him.

  “Rafe…I need this,” I tell him, emphasizing the need with a push of my hips.

  Finally, he gives in, muttering that damn word again. I take advantage of his moment of weakness and slide my hand up, undoing his pants. I lift my hips just enough to push them down, and he stands stock-still as I do. As soon as I feel his naked cock, my hand is pulled away. With a low growl, he rips my panties off and pushes me back against the wall.

  My hands grip his shoulders as he angles himself and pushes inside my entrance, driving in deep but so painstakingly slowly. I hold my breath as he slides into me, inch by glorious inch. I tighten my legs around his powerful thighs, rising up and subsequently sinking down on his cock in a frantic rhythm that matches his.

  One hand cups my ass while the other smooths the hair out of my face. My eyes flutter shut as I enjoy the sensations of our frenzied fucking. Then Rafe stops, pulling out until just the tip is inside me. It’s more than I can bear. It’s not enough. Overwhelming sensations take over, and I close my eyes tighter, hating myself for loving this. Hating myself for hating it. I can’t look at him. The way he feels inside me, the way I feel when he’s inside me, is incomparable. If I look up at him right now, I’m too afraid of what I’ll see. Who I’ll see.