by Tessa Teevan
We fall back into a comfortable silence as we peruse the rest of the paintings. By the time we get to modern American art, I glance up at him and know that it’s time to put him out of his misery.
There’s a familiar look in his eyes—glazed over and half in a daze. It brings a smile to my face, as it’s the exact one that was always present on Dad’s face whenever we’d been at the museum too long. Taking pity on him, I wrap my arm around his waist and look up at him.
“This has been wonderful, Rafe, and I really appreciate you bringing me here. Are you ready to go?”
Relief covers his face for a quick moment before he tries to mask it. I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
“Are you sure?” he asks, pulling his program out. “We haven’t yet seen the . . . umm . . . Rodin sculptures yet.”
I tilt my head and peer up at him. “Rafe, do you have any idea who Rodin is?”
“Umm, no,” he answers, and I laugh.
“We’ll save that lesson for another day.”
He looks relieved, and as we go down the infamous Rocky steps, I try my hardest to keep up with him. Naturally, he makes me take his picture by the statue, and I make a mental note to get a copy later on.
“So, now that I’ve sufficiently bored you with my ramblings on art, what’s next on the list of things to do on our date?” I ask as we walk to the car.
He stops and studies me for a moment. “Well, why don’t you tell me, Brie? I know that this was one of your favorite places to visit with your parents. Where else did you guys go? I don’t know all that much about Philly. Be my tour guide,” he requests.
“Hmm,” I hum, tapping my chin before an idea pops in my mind. “Well, this was my and Mom’s favorite place to go, and Dad just humored us until we went to his. It never failed. We spent hours here then let him lead the way.”
He cocks an eyebrow, and I tell him that it’s a surprise. Looking around, I take his head and lead him away from the car.
“It’s within walking distance,” I tell him, and as we leisurely stroll, I realize all we’ve done this weekend is talk about me and my past. Glancing up at him, I decide to remedy that. “I feel like an asshole. I’ve done all the talking and haven’t even asked about you.”
He peers down at me and shrugs. “That’s fine with me. I like hearing about you and your past. Your eyes light up when you talk about your parents. It makes you happy to talk about them, which, in turn, makes me happy.”
“It’s been so long since I’ve let myself remember them. It feels right to do so. Thanks for listening,” I tell him.
He smiles down at me. “Anytime, baby.”
“Now, let’s talk about you for once,” I tease and watch as his jaw tightens before he gives me a forced smile.
“There’s not much to tell, Brie,” he says.
I roll my eyes. “Okay, Mr. Mysterious. How about the basics?” I ask as we wait for a light to change. It’s like pulling teeth with this man.
Over the next few minutes, I learn that he’s from Cleveland, born and raised. His parents still live there with his younger brother, who did join the medical profession. He’s twenty-nine, which surprises me when I realize I didn’t know this beforehand. I may know this man, but what do I know about him? Not much, and it’s time to remedy that.
“So you asked me once before. Now, it’s my turn. Why Philadelphia? If you’re from Ohio. How’d you end up here?”
He gives me a shrug as if it’s not a big deal. “I go where the job takes me. Right now, it’s Philadelphia. Eventually, it could be Pittsburgh or Cleveland. I go wherever I’m needed.”
I frown, wondering just how far his construction business reaches. Just as I’m about to ask, our destination comes into view and our game of Twenty Questions ends. Still, I make a mental note to revisit it later. He may not think there’s much to know about him, but whatever there is, I want to know it, just like he wants to know everything about me.
“We’re here,” I tell him, watching as his eyes take in the vast structure before us.
He turns to me, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Really?” he asks, echoing my question from when we pulled up the museum.
Nodding, I laugh at his skepticism. “Really. Come on. You’ll love it,” I promise as I pull him closer.
“Seriously, Brie? An old, abandoned penitentiary? This may be the weirdest date, but compared to the museum, this is so much more my style,” he admits.
“My dad would agree with you. He loved the history and the architecture. After spending hours being bored out of his mind around all of that art, he’d drag us here. Honestly, I think he liked creeping Mom out, but it became tradition.”
“If you say so,” he says, sounding unsure.
“I do. Now, come on. Let’s see if we can catch a tour. It’s the best way to explore.”
We’re fortunate to make it in time for a tour that’s just starting, and I can tell that Rafe’s much more into this than the art museum. I can’t blame him. There’s something truly fascinating about crime. The intrigue, the drama, and the way the tour guides romanticize it, even while outlining the horrors of being housed in a prison such as this one, are captivating.
“Can you believe it?” I ask him as we pass cells I could never imagine living in for a day, let alone a lifetime. “Solitary confinement with no chance of outside contact ever? That’d be torture enough,” I say, shuddering.
The tour guide details the original prison system that allowed no inmates to ever come in contact with each other.
“It makes you wonder why places like this couldn’t be a deterrent,” he quips. “Why do terrible things when you run the risk of getting locked up? It makes no sense to me.”
The tour guide interrupts our conversation as we come to a cell that’s more extravagant than most of the others. She tells us that one of their most famous inmates was Al Capone, not that the penitentiary was much of a hardship for him.
“It doesn’t look so bad. It’s actually quite stylish with the fancy lamps, wooden desk, and sitting chair. And seriously? He had a record player, for Christ’s sake! It was like an extended time-out where he still had his toys to play with. Nothing like what the other inmates endured. Mobsters today probably don’t even have it this good.”
“You’d be surprised,” Rafe grumbles quietly next to me as his eyes search the cell. “All prisons and punishments aren’t created equal, not even today.”
I frown then jab him in the side. “Oh, like you know this?”
He looks down at me with a soft smile. “Of course not. Just a hunch. Men like Capone? Wealthy, powerful, connected? They tend to get off easier than most.”
As I study Capone’s cell, I think about Rafe’s words and wonder if they’re true. Do the rich and powerful really get luxuries, even today? Sure, television and movies would make you believe so. But in reality? I hate to think that it’s true, but I sigh, knowing that even our justice system is flawed.
A loud bang echoes, and I turn to see that the tour group’s no longer in this hall. I must’ve zoned out while looking at the cell. The hall is dark, and I glance around for Rafe, but he’s nowhere to be found. An eerie chill creeps up my spine as goose bumps crawl across my skin. As many times as I’ve come here, I’ve never been alone. Stories of hauntings and ghostly sightings flash in my memory.
“Rafe?” I call out, my voice echoing.
There is no response. Could he have gone ahead? Would he have left me back here? My instincts tell me no, but when I turn around to go backward, all I see is darkness. I try to push down the mild panic that’s rising and close my eyes, willing myself to take deep breaths. Just as I build enough confidence to forge ahead, to find the group, something brushes my arm and I let out a startled gasp.
“Brie!” Rafe exclaims.
Relief flows in me. I open my eyes to see him watching me, concerned. I shove him back.
“Jesus Christ, Rafe. You scared the hell out of me!” I tell him before wrapping my arms arou
nd him to ease my pounding heart. “Where’d you go?”
He smooths out the hair on my head and smiles down at me. “You weren’t scared down here all alone, were you?”
I shove him again. “Shut up. It’s creepy when you’re all alone.”
He laughs then holds up his cell phone. “Sorry. I had a phone call and didn’t want to bother anyone, so I stepped back out into the main corridor. You were so engrossed in Capone. I didn’t want to disturb you and figured I’d catch up.”
“Oh. Everything okay?”
He sighs. “I hate to cut this short, baby, but I have an emergency meeting with a client. Can I drop you off? We’ll continue this date later?” he asks, his voice hopeful.
Is he kidding? I’m more than okay with leaving this place now. It’s thoroughly spooked me. “Of course. I’m tired anyway since someone woke me up too early,” I tell him, poking him in the stomach.
“Well, then. I better get you home so you can nap. I want you to have all of your energy for tonight.” There’s a devilish gleam in his eye.
I shiver in anticipation. I wonder if he’ll always affect me this way. God, I hope he does.
As we walk back to the car, he tells me stories of Capone and other mobsters, and I’m surprised at his knowledge. It must be a guy thing, because Dad was the same way. And a small pang hits my heart. The two of them would’ve gotten along so well, yet they’ll never get the chance.
By the time we make it back to Rafe’s apartment, he apologizes again for having to leave, but the truth is that I could use some time alone. After brewing a cup of hot tea and changing into Rafe’s discarded shirt from the night before, I settle onto the sofa. I turn the television on, mindlessly flipping through the channels as Rafe goes to the bedroom to change. My eyes feel heavy, and just as I’m about to close them, his lips touch mine. Slowly, I open them and tilt my head to take in the sight of him in a suit and tie. He looks absolutely delicious and sexy. Suddenly, I’m wide awake.
“Wow. If I didn’t know any better, I wouldn’t believe you were going to meet a client,” I tease.
He just shakes his head. “Gotta do what I have to to impress the clients. Even if it means trading in my jeans and T-shirts for something a bit fancier every once in a while.” He presses another kiss to my forehead before lifting back up. “I shouldn’t be too long. Then you’re mine for the rest of the night.”
“You can count on it,” I promise.
He gives me a wink, and I sigh as he leaves the apartment. Curling up, I think about our day and let the exhaustion finally take over as I drift off to sleep with a smile on my face and one in my heart.
Thanks to him.
RIDING THE ELEVATOR TO my apartment, I run a hand through my hair. I’ve been gone longer than I’d planned—thanks to an unexpected development. And I’m now completely on edge.
My boss asked what the fuck I was doing. The answer was on the tip of my tongue, and even though I was quick enough to not say it out loud, I still thought it.
What I’m doing is falling for Gabriella Latham, and like a runaway train, I’m not powerful enough to stop it. Hell, I probably wouldn’t even if I could. The way she fell apart in my arms last night, talking about her parents, broke my fucking heart even though I already knew the entire story. I probably could’ve told it in my sleep, but hearing it from her perspective made it even realer. As much as I wanted to comfort her, her strength shone through when she dried her tears and continued telling me the rest. Her life with Morningstar replaced any sorrow I was feeling with anger, and I struggled not to show it. My questioning nearly got me in trouble.
After I step off the elevator, I let myself into my apartment, hoping Brie didn’t mind my absence for too long. I quietly close the door, stopping in the front foyer. I let out a small sigh of relief as I hear the sounds of soft music. Loosening my tie, I’m thankful she bought my excuse about wanting to look professional while meeting with a potential client. In fact, she seemed downright proud of the fact that I took my job seriously, and for a split second, all the lies cut me to the core.
As I walk down the hall towards the living room, a mouth-watering aroma attacks my senses. A smile forms on my lips—she felt at home enough to cook for me.
I stop in my tracks at the thought. Is this what I want? For her to feel at home? Here? With me? Even though I’m not sure we have a future, no matter how badly I’m starting to want one?
Who the fuck am I fooling? I do want a future with her, and I’m finding I’ll do anything to have one. Even if it means lying to my boss. After three fucking weeks of incredible sex and natural conversation, I’m losing my mind with wanting to be with her at all times. My growing feelings for her are clouding everything, but as I continue into the living room and find her curled up on my couch, fast asleep, looking young and carefree, I know I will fight for this woman. Even though she may not know it, she needs me now more than ever, and I refuse to let her down.
How could I not want this beautiful woman in my home? Last night, she showed the purity of her heart and the depth of her strength. She’s so much more than I ever expected, and as I watch her, I realize I’ve never wanted anyone more. I never will. It might have started as a rebound, but it’s way beyond that now. Suddenly, my mouth waters for an entirely different reason, and I have to have her.
Her long, dark hair is framing her exquisite face. Her full lips are parted ever so slightly in her sleep. After slipping my shoes off, I quietly cross the room and kneel before her. I lean forward and brush my lips against her soft, full ones, pressing a gentle kiss there then pulling back slightly to look down at her. She lets out a tiny moan in her sleep. Lust and desire wash over me, but I vow to take my time. I won’t rush this. Ever.
She shifts but doesn’t wake, and I slowly bring my hands up to unbutton her shirt—well, the one of mine that she slipped on when we returned home. I’m pleased when I see that she isn’t wearing a bra. Bowing my head, I place one more soft kiss on her lips before kissing down along her jawline then trailing down her smooth, beautiful skin until I reach the swell of her breasts. My fingers push the material away, and my eyes fixate on the simple gesture of her chest rising and falling in time with her breathing.
I was supposed to be there. I was supposed to die alongside them.
Her sentiment from the night before echoes in my mind, and I sit back on my heels, watching as her lungs expand and collapse in a rhythmic fashion. It’s such a basic human thing, the art of breathing. But in this moment, while I watch her do so, the beautiful signs of life touch me in a profound way. She has no idea how right she is, and as I raise my eyes to the ceiling, I make a promise to her, God, and anyone listening that I will protect her until my last dying breath. That wrong will never be righted.
Shaking the dismal thoughts out of my head, I move back in, sweeping my tongue over the soft peaks towards her nipples, my tongue tracing them as they harden underneath my wet touch. She moans again in her slumber, and I smile against her breast, bringing my hand up to cup the other one, caressing it in time with my mouth. I take the tip of her nipple into my mouth, sucking gently, reveling in the feel of her, the taste of her. I could do this all day.
A sharp intake of breath breaks my concentration, and I look up to see Brie’s beautiful, brown eyes flutter open as she blinks twice. They’re cloudy and disoriented, slowly filling with lust as she spies me latched on to her nipple. A smile spreads over her sleepy face, and it’s captivating as she watches me love on her beautiful peaks.
“You’re back,” she whispers, her voice swirling with sleep and desire. She likes this kind of wake-up call.
“Mmm hmm,” I hum.
She arches her back as the vibrations surround her nipple. I release the hard nub with a pop and kiss over to her other breast to give it the same treatment.
Her hand comes down as she tangles her fingers in my hair. I lift my head, my eyes sweeping down her body to her bare legs. The only thing between us is a miniscule pair of pa
nties.
“I’d say you were expecting this,” I chide.
She gives me a sheepish grin. “I missed you while you were gone and thought I’d get comfortable while I was waiting. And maybe hoping that this is how you’d greet me. Was I wrong?”
My heart constricts at her admission, but I push the feeling away. I have the urge to tell her that I miss her whenever she’s not around. We have time for that later. I shake my head and hook my fingers around her panties, pulling them down her long, slender legs before tossing them aside. She lifts up and pulls the shirt off, creating a pile of her clothes on the floor before lying back down and stretching out for me. I take a moment to stare at her, naked, beautiful, and wide open and ready for me. My dick strains against my dress pants, begging for release, but I have plans for Brie first.
I crawl in between her legs, and she spreads them for me, a perfectly compliant partner, already anticipating my every move. One leg hooks over the back of the couch, the other folding to the side, hanging off the edge. Hovering over her, I kiss down her breasts towards her flat stomach, relishing the way she shivers as my stubble roughly rubs along her skin.
My hands caress her silken thighs as I lower my head and kiss just outside the crook of her knee. She lifts her hips, presenting her perfect pussy to me, waiting, wanting, not so patiently. I’ve never had such desire for a woman—nor have I ever had one so ready and wanton for me.
As much as I crave the urge to drive into her, I take my time. For so long, she’s been with a selfish prick, and even though I couldn’t save her from him, I can give her this. I will give her this. My hands grasp her thighs as my mouth begins its ascent—I’m unable to hold myself back. My cock’s unbearably hard, and I have to taste her before I go insane. I run my tongue up her creamy skin until I’m at the apex of her thighs. Then I take one long swipe and find her so damn wet for me. Bringing my hand up, I gently part her lips with my fingers as my tongue seeks entrance, and I groan as soon as her tangy essence fills my mouth, coating my taste buds. Her taste is enough to make me explode. With a ferocity I’ve never felt, I dive in, licking and sucking at her, wanting to bring her to orgasm so I can quickly be inside her.