Escalation

by Tessa Teevan

  My eyes fall to her chest, where I watch it rise and fall beneath my T-shirt she went to bed in. A flash of her lying on the stretcher, not breathing, unmoving, clouds my vision, and I have to lift my gaze before I lose my cool. She’s watching me intently, and I bring her closer, needing to feel her chest moving. Seeing it isn’t enough.

  “So was I,” I echo.

  Her eyes widen ever so slightly.

  “I didn’t think I’d get there in time. Hell, I didn’t get there in time.”

  She shakes her head. “You may not have been there, but you made sure the police were. If they hadn’t been there, if they hadn’t started chasing Adrian, who knows what would have happened? I don’t even know what he was planning. You said you’d protect me, and in the end, you did.”

  My mouth dries up because I know the truth. Sure, I would’ve been there moments after the cops, but I wasn’t the one who called them. Just chalk that up to one more thing I have to confess to.

  “I just want to forget,” she says, staring up at me.

  My heart hammers as she slides her hand up my bare chest. With her touch, my nerve endings are on fire, and I wonder if I ever won’t burn for her.

  “Make me forget.”

  Her hands push my shorts down, and she cups my dick, which instantly hardens underneath her touch. She shifts, arching her back and lining the tip of my erection up with her core. As much as I want her, I pull away.

  “No, Brie. Not like this,” I tell her, shaking my head. My heart’s hammering, and my mind’s swimming. I crave this connection more than she’ll ever know, but we have so much unresolved between us. I can’t let our intimacy cloud her judgment. “Not like this. Not after you’ve woken from a nightmare. Just let me hold you.”

  Her eyes fill to brim with tears, and I lean down to kiss them away. Before I make contact, she places a finger to my lips and stops me.

  “Rafe, you once told me you could erase him. You did, and I need you to do it again. You said you’d give me whatever I need. Right now, I need you.”

  “But—”

  She pushes her finger into my mouth, silencing me. “Please, Rafe, please. Make me feel safe. Make love to me,” she begs.

  The fierce longing in her voice is my undoing, and before I can stop myself, I’m sliding into her depths. I’m nearly overcome with the relief coursing through my veins, almost unable to believe she’s here with me, allowing me to comfort her in the most primal way known to man.

  “Yes,” she pants as I slowly rock my hips.

  If she wants me to make love to her, I will—until her mind is so clouded with our desire that all her nightmares fade into oblivion and all she can see is me.

  Unlike before, her eyes are open—hooded, but still open. It’s a small victory for me, and even though my primeval instinct is to take her hard and fast, this isn’t about me. This is about her. This isn’t just fucking. Hell, it’s not even lovemaking. It’s so much more than that, yet it’s something so simple. It’s me giving and her taking, the way she deserves. The way she always has.

  The thought gives me pause, and I don’t even realize I’ve stopped moving until I hear her.

  “Rafe,” she whispers, her voice breathy. She squirms underneath me, pulling me in farther until I’m buried so incredibly deep inside her. “Please.”

  That one word is all I need to snap out of my thoughts and focus solely on her. Giving. Taking. Offering. Whatever it takes to show her that I can give her so much more than he ever did. That I want so much more than he ever did. That, despite my misgivings, the way I feel for her is genuine and continues to grow every single day.

  Slowly. Gently. Softly. Our bodies join together, a tangled web of lips and limbs, soft breaths and passionate moans. In an agonizingly slow fashion, I retreat and surge into her over and over again. A desperate need to claim her simmers just below the surface. The slow-and-steady cadence is nearly enough, and each time I’m close to the edge, I have to retreat, patiently waiting for Brie to get her fill yet still aching for more.

  And as if she can read my mind, my Brie puts me out of my beautiful misery.

  "Rafe," she whispers. "More. I need more."

  Thank the fucking Lord, my dick practically sings at her pleading voice.

  More than happy to comply, I quicken my thrusts, watching as her breasts rise and fall in rapid succession. It's not long before she's compressing around me, my own imminent release rising to the surface. I slide my hand between us, slowly pressing down on her clit, satisfied as her plump lips form an “O” before she moans in satisfaction. If I were a lesser man—and I wish I were—I'd be more than half tempted to capture this moment on film. I'm in awe of her sheer beauty. Pink cheeks. Rounded, full breasts with dark-pink nipples, hard from her pleasure, sending my mind into a tailspin of what the future holds for us.

  Visions of Brie holding our baby flash in my mind. Probably not the most appropriate time, but holy fuck, it hits me.

  I’m going to be a dad.

  We are going to be a family.

  My eyes travel from her breasts down to her flat stomach. There may not be any physical signs yet, but knowing we created a life together gives me a sense of peace. Everything may work out for us. For our family. It has to. There’s no other option. A primal sense of pride explodes within me.

  “Mine.”

  The word escapes my lips before I can stop it. It’s not quite a growl. In fact, it’s more like a realization. Instead of drawing attention to my claim, I emphasize it by slamming into her while simultaneously working her core until she’s on the brink of her release.

  Her eyes flutter shut, and though I want to demand she opens them, to see me when she comes, I don't protest. Instead, I bend down, capturing her mouth just as a moan of pleasure escapes Brie. Her hands cling to my shoulders, holding on for dear life as her orgasm racks through her. Every nerve ending in my body is electrified as she tightens around me, gripping me like a vise and sending me right over the edge with her. I continue to thrust, slowing my tempo with every passing one until I’m unmoving, still seated in her to the hilt.

  When I finally come back down, I’m utterly, completely spent, but my mind is racing.

  My senses are heightened, and now that Brie’s pregnant, I’m fully aware of the natural way our bodies react. Hers tightening around me, locking me in, milking me until every last drop has been released. Mine burying itself inside her, giving her all of me.

  Sex. Pleasure. Procreation. All I know is that, after this experience, I will never be the same.

  I only hope she can say the same.

  With one last kiss, I pull back and gaze down at this beautiful woman in my bed. Her glossy eyes stare back at me, her cheeks flushed with a heated pink. Her expression, however, is unreadable, and even as satiated as I am right now, I can't push the anxiety of wondering what she's thinking back.

  The room is silent save for our ragged breaths, but I can tell Brie’s mind it working in overdrive. Almost as quickly as she came, she rises from the bed and goes to the bathroom, quietly shutting the door behind her.

  As I stare up at the ceiling, questions bombard my mind. Does she regret what we just did? Was this just a reprieve from her nightmares?

  Not wanting to give voice to those questions, I leave the room and stalk down the hall, where I down a glass of water and try to calm my nerves.

  When I return to the bedroom, I’ve convinced myself to leave her alone. That, if she still needs space, I have to give it to her. But when I see her lying in bed, I can’t help myself. I cross the room and lean down, pressing a kiss to her forehead, fully prepared to tell her goodnight and then drink my sorrows away.

  Brie, however, surprises me by pulling me down on top of her then rolling us until we’re on our sides, chest to chest. Our hearts are aligned, both beating rapidly, and I wrap an arm around her waist to draw her in closer. I was ready to give her that space, but I’m even quicker to take what she’s offering.

  “Rap
hael,” she murmurs, her sleepy, glossy eyes watching me timidly.

  I can’t help the grin that crosses my face. “No one’s called me that for a long damn time.”

  “I could say the same about Brie. Until you,” she amends, a small sigh escaping. Tears well in her eyes, and I tighten my hold on her before kissing her on the top of her head. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?”

  A pair.

  Elation soars in me, but I maintain my composure, not wanting to get ahead of myself. Still, my hand travels down to her belly as my lips find her ear.

  “As much as I love the pair that we were, I think we’re a little more than that now, don’t you?”

  She shivers, and fears at her lack of response starts to creep in.

  “Will you stay until I fall asleep?” she asks, avoiding my question.

  I want to push and prod, force her to tell me that we’re okay, but I resist, knowing we’re back to the place where I give her time and space. Hopefully, she won’t need too much of it.

  “Brie, I’ll stay until you tell me to leave. And even then, I won’t ever be very far.”

  She nods against my chest and settles in. I hold her close until her breath evens out and sleep over takes her.

  And then I hold her until sleep takes me, too.

  RAFE’S GONE WHEN I wake, much to my dismay. And at the same time, much to my relief. The way he held me in the middle of the night was comforting, and in the darkness of the room, I wanted to forgive him for everything. The way he slowly, almost hesitantly, made love to me had me trusting his words. That it wasn’t all a lie. That he really does care for me the way he’s made me believe.

  Now, however, that the nightmares have passed and, according to the clock, I’ve slept for nearly sixteen hours, I feel refreshed. And even though I’d love to stay in my blissful, ignorant state, allowing him to use his body to keep the nightmares away, I can’t. More than anything, I want answers.

  Answers, I remember, Rafe promised I’d get. I’m eager to get to the bottom of this. To find out the whole truth.

  As I turn over onto my side, I spot the note on the pillow next to me.

  Had to run to the office. Will be back as soon as possible. Make yourself at home. Nothing has changed, Brie. Not for me. This is still the home you planned on it being just a couple of days ago. Remember that. Be back soon. Love, Rafe.

  Love.

  Love? He couldn’t possibly…

  Could he? I mean, he did almost say it yesterday. I’m sure of it. I was afraid it was an in-the-moment thing, and I stopped him before he could get the word out. But still…Love, Rafe?

  Shaking my head, I tell myself that it’s just an expression. Still, the prospect of the depth of his feelings wreaks havoc on my heart, which I need to steel for this upcoming inquisition. Since I’m alone, take advantage of the solace and draw myself a hot bath.

  For the next hour, I shut my brain off and soak. Not thinking. Not feeling. Just being. As thoughts of the water seeping into the trunk enter my mind, I muster up all of my strength to forget it. At least, for now.

  When I emerge from the bath, I look at my naked body in the mirror, twisting and turning, trying to imagine the imminent changes the pregnancy will bring. Then I lift my eyes to my face. Do I even recognize the girl staring back at me? I thought I was on track to pre-Adrian Brie, but did I jump from one fucked-up relationship to the next? Will I ever really know who Gabriella Latham is supposed to be, or am I destined to continue to make the same mistakes over and over again?

  No.

  Even as the though starts to sink it, I quickly wipe it out of my mind. I refuse to believe that. Sure, there may be parallels in the situations, but the two men couldn’t be different. I may not know Rafe’s life story, but I know the man underneath it all. I just hope I can trust him again. Either way, it’s time to take hold of my life. Not just for me, but for my unborn baby as well. And the first step?

  Working this shit out with Rafe.

  Easier said than done.

  I have no idea what this day has planned for me or where I’ll be by the end of it. Still, I take my time drying and styling my hair, delaying the inevitable. I try to cover the dark circles under my eyes as well as the broken blood vessels that are scattered across my skin the best I can. With a few brushes of mascara, some bronzer to give my pale cheeks color, and nude gloss on my cool lips, I feel like a brand-new person. Or, at least, a put-together one.

  When I step back into the bedroom, there’s a bag on the end—the one that holds the only clothes I own. Grateful Rafe brought them in, I don a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, hoping to combat the chill that hasn’t left since I woke up in the hospital.

  Well, that’s not exactly true. Rafe’s made it disappear a time or two, but every time he pulls—or I push him—away, I feel it all over again.

  I open the door and pad down the hall, my mouth watering at the aroma filling the air. My stomach growls the closer I get to the kitchen. I haven’t eaten in nearly a day and a half, so I’m ravenous. Still, I lean up against the doorframe and watch Rafe.

  He’s standing at the stove, cooking breakfast and singing completely off-key to what sounds like the latest Bruno Mars hit. The muscles in his back ripple as he moves his hips to the beat of the music. This time, my mouth waters for an entirely different reason.

  Down, girl, I tell myself, not wanting my attraction for him to cloud what we have to discuss. My belly flutters, and I shake my head. I can’t—I won’t—allow my hormones to force me to give in too quickly.

  My stomach growls again, and he stills briefly before turning around. He smiles wide when he spots me. I know that smile. I adore that smile. I’ve experienced it time and time again, but this is a little different. Even though it doesn’t quite reach his weary eyes, he’s still a sight to behold. As I get closer, his hands brush along my stomach until it settles on my hip. He leans down and goes for a kiss, but at the last second, I turn my head. The disappointment in the room is palpable, and the immediate tension is so thick it could only be cut with the sharpest of knives.

  “About last night.” I pause and grimace, unsure of how to continue.

  His smile falters, and he turns back to the stove. “Don’t mention it,” he says.

  Part of me is relieved that we can skip the awkward morning after. The other part wants to talk about last night, so I know we’re on the same page. Then again, I don’t even know what page I’m on, so I shrug it off and sit on a stool at the counter, watching in silence as he finishes cooking. When he pushes a plate across from me, I clear my throat and gather my courage.

  “It’s time. I’m ready,” I tell him, and he stops in his tracks. His shoulders falter just a little, and my resolved almost goes right along with them. “I need to know everything, Rafe. Everything you know. I don’t understand anything that’s happening, and I need you to help me. Enlighten me. Who exactly are Rafe Matthews and Agent Phillips, and what do they have to do with me?”

  “Brie…before we start, you have to understand that it’s an ongoing investigation.”

  I sigh. “If you want me to trust you, I need you to start being honest with me. How can I continue this”—I wave between the two of us—“when I don’t even know what to believe anymore.”

  He doesn’t respond, so I push a little deeper.

  “Was last night a mistake, Rafe? A moment a weakness I can start beating myself up over? Should I? Or will you finally be honest with me?”

  He echoes my sigh and runs a hand through his hair. His muscles ripple as he stretches, and I have to tear my eyes away, mentally berating my hormones.

  “Okay. Finish eating. Then we’ll start,” he says, finally giving in.

  Swallowing hard, I look up at him. “Umm…can you put a shirt on, please? So I can concentrate? And why don’t you have a shirt on? Weren’t you at the office?”

  A slow, sexy grins spreads over his face. He walks around the island until he’s directly behind me. Then h
e leans down and trails his fingers along the bare skin of my arms.

  “That’s a good sign,” he whispers, his warm breath tickling my ear and ignoring my question. “I’m glad I still affect you, baby. It gives me hope.”

  He presses a quick kiss to my neck, and I try my hardest to suppress a shiver.

  “And for the record, it was not a mistake. It never has been. It never will be. I’ll go get dressed,” he says, nipping at my skin, eliciting another shiver.

  A familiar stirring between my thighs has me clenching them together, and he chuckles, having noticed my discomfort.

  But he’s right about one thing.

  It gives me hope, too.

  What the hell am I doing? I wonder as I walk down the hall to comply with Brie’s request of my getting dressed. Howard’s warning echoes in the recesses of my mind. He may think I’m getting too close, but I’m not.

  Am I? Am I blowing it because I’m prepared to tell Brie what she wants to know?

  Then, what I’m doing hits me. I’m doing whatever the hell it takes to regain the trust of the woman I…

  I stop just short of the word, not ready to admit it. Even though it’s likely inevitable.

  When I get to the living room, Brie’s on the recliner. She’s curled up with a blanket around her, but instead of relaxed, she’s tapping her fingers on the edge of the chair, her legs shaking. She appears anxious. Apprehensive. Precisely the way I feel as well. At the same time, I’m almost relieved we’re finally at this juncture in our relationship.

  It’s been over eight weeks of keeping something monumental from Brie, and it’s been weighing on my mind the entire time. Even if it means I lose her, it’s finally time to tell her everything.

  I run a hand through my hair and release my breath, trying to psych myself up for this. In the end, I have to start or else I’ll never work up the nerve to do so.

  “As much as I want to, you have to understand that there will be some things I can’t tell you.”

  She opens her mouth to protest, so I hold a hand up, silencing her.