Conflagration

by Tessa Teevan

  He pauses, and I suck in a deep breath because that pause just spoke millions. “Maybe not. I don’t know. Ask me six months ago and no, probably not, but not because of your name. You were spiraling downward so fast, and there’s no way in hell you’d have been able to handle it. But over the last few months, you’ve shown huge growth. Consoling that woman as she went into labor at Knox’s engagement party? Helping Cohen when he stuck his foot in his mouth with Andi? And then this last week? Watching you, broken and bruised… I don’t think I’ve seen you this happy in years. That girl in there has something to do with it. I can tell.”

  I want to laugh, to tell him that he’s insane, that this whole thing is fake, but if I think back on this last week, I have been happy. And the only difference is her.

  “I appreciate your honesty. And you’re right. Six months ago, I wouldn’t have been in the right place, but Dad, I live and breathe the company. I’d never let you down, I swear.”

  “Maybe that was the problem before. I admire your dedication to Wellington Enterprises, but you needed an outside life to keep you satisfied and you didn’t have that with Megan. I sincerely hope that you can find that with Ari. She’s something special, son. Cherish that.” He stands and pulls something out of his pocket. After looking back at the hallway to see that we’re still alone, he turns back towards me and hands me a ring. I give him a confused look, and he laughs. “That rock on her finger is not her style. Hell, it’s practically bigger than her thumb. This was my mother’s ring, and as my firstborn son, I want you to have it. I want her to have it.”

  Astonishment clouds my senses, and I find myself nodding. “Wow. Thanks, Dad. This really means a lot.”

  He places a hand on my shoulder. “I meant what I said. I’m proud of you, Branson. And I love you.”

  Pocketing the ring, I glance up at him. “I love you, too, old man,” I tell him, and he laughs just as Mom and Ari reenter the room.

  Ariana must see the expression on my face. She looks at me quizzically before she mouths, “Everything good?”

  I nod then pat the recliner next to me, wrapping my arm around her shoulders when she sits down. She curls up against my chest, and whether it’s because she wants the closeness or if it’s for my parents’ benefit, I don’t care. I pull her in close, knowing I’m going to have a hell of a time letting her go.

  Because, in one week, she’s given me so much. She’s given me my parents back. She’s given me hope for the future. I feel like I have a new lease on life, like my luck is changing. And it’s all because of her.

  IT TAKES Dad a little bit of time to get Mom out of the house, but once Ariana agrees to go on that shopping spree with her, she’s placated and they finally leave us alone. Ariana shifts next to me, trying to pull away, but I’m holding her close. Grabbing the remote, I turn on the television, mindlessly flipping through channels, ignoring the beautiful woman wrapped up in my arms. Her silence is deafening, and I have a feeling she’s just biding her time until I loosen my grip, but it’s not going to happen. If I have any chance of getting close to her, I need her close to me.

  After I scroll through the guide twice, she sighs loudly. I stop what I’m doing and turn to her, biting my lip so I don’t let loose the smile that’s threatening to form on my lips.

  “What?” I ask, and she glares at me.

  “Your mother put my clothes in your room.”

  “Yeah,” I say, and her scowl deepens. “I mean, we are engaged, baby. It’s 2014. I really hope you aren’t planning on waiting until the wedding night to consummate our marriage.”

  She pushes against me, and I can’t help but laugh. “You’re such a smartass. We will be consummating no such thing! This engagement isn’t even real.” She buries her hands in her face and lets out a deep groan. “God, what I gotten myself into?”

  What indeed. I guess it’s about time we figure that out. Maybe this little getaway for her could be mutually beneficial. “Ariana,” I growl, and it’s just enough to get her to peek through her fingers, her dark eyes gazing at me hesitantly.

  Taking hold of her wrists, I pull her hands away from her eyes, and she reverts her gaze. I use my thumb and forefinger to lift her chin until she’s forced to look at me. She looks nervous, and I lean in and press a soft kiss to her lips, hoping to ease her anxiety.

  “Look, now that we’re finally alone, I guess it’s time we talk about how we move forward. Are you ready to go back home? To end this charade?” I ask, anxiety now welling up inside me, hoping she doesn’t say yes. I feel instant relief when she slowly shakes her head. “Tell me.”

  She swallows then gazes into my eyes, uncertainty flashing in hers. “I’m not ready to end this, Branson.”

  A slow, satisfied grin forms on my lips. “Good. I’m not either.”

  I take her left hand and slowly slide the monstrous rock off her finger. Her eyebrows narrow as she watches me toss the ring onto the coffee table. Once I pull my grandmother’s ring out of my pocket, I hold it up in front of her.

  “Now, obviously I can’t get down on one knee or anything, but if you’re going to be mine, I need you wearing my ring. Not another man’s. So how about it, Ariana? Will you be my temporary fiancée?”

  She shakes her head then looks from me, to the ring, then back at me again. “What?! Are you insane?! Did your dad give you fresh dose of pain medication while I was out of the room?”

  I grin down at her then bring my hand to my heart. “Absolutely not. I’m asking this with complete clarity. I’m not asking you to marry me today, tomorrow, or even next month. Or hell, probably even ever. I’m simply asking you to be my fiancée for a while in exchange for free room and board as long as we both shall deem necessary.”

  “Semantics, Branson. But I suppose it does feel a little less like a lie this way. And it does feel nice to have that awful ring off my finger.” She lets out a deep breath, and I know she’s wearing down. Not that it was hard to convince her, which causes me to wonder if she feels the chemistry between us, too. “Okay, fine. Yes, I’ll be your temporary fiancée, but I can pay own way.”

  As I slide the ring on her finger, I’m surprised, and pleased, that it’s a perfect fit. I place a kiss on her finger before capturing her mouth with mine. Her lips part, her tongue darting out to mingle with mine as her hand slides up and around my neck. She shifts until she’s in my lap, and I wince as she grazes a few of the soft spots on my abdomen. Apparently noticing, she tries to pull back, but I hold her close, not letting her mouth leave mine as I devour her with more intensity than I’ve felt in so long.

  As much as I was kidding about consummating this, my dick has a different idea as it hardens against her jeans. I want to own this woman. To take her completely, filling her until she can do nothing but scream my name, begging for me, wanting, and needing more.

  My hand fists in her hair and I tug hard as I bite down on her lower lip. She groans, and rocks against me, but then she suddenly pulls back, panting and eyes wide.

  “Wow,” she whispers, and I echo the sentiment before leaning in, wanting more. She pushes against my chest and scrambles off my lap. “We should probably cool off. You know, the heat of the moment, the excitement must be getting to us.”

  “It’s not the heat of the moment, Ariana. It’s you,” I growl, trying to tug her back to me, but she resists.

  “Me?” she asks as if it’s the craziest idea in the world.

  “Yeah, you. You’re sexy as hell, sweet as can be, and I want you, Ariana. Is that really that much of a surprise?”

  She gapes at me, and I wonder if I have to get this girl a mirror. “Seriously? Are you on drugs? Other than those few kisses in the hospital, you’ve barely touched me.”

  “One, no, I’m not on drugs. And two, that was different. I wasn’t going to maul you in front of my family and the hospital staff. Hell, baby, you felt my erection that first day, and I know you just felt it now. That should tell you something. I’m thirty-three years old. I’m not afraid
to admit when I want something. And I want you. Don’t even deny that you want me, too.”

  “I don’t,” she says matter-of-factly, but I see the way she swallows hard.

  “Oh yeah? Then why’s your pulse racing? Why are you breathing heavy? And why can’t you stop staring at my lips like you want them exploring your entire body right now?”

  “I’m not… I don’t… Okay, fine!” she exclaims, her eyes rolling at the same time. “The sexual deviant in me can’t stop picturing you naked. Or those lips all over me.”

  Grinning at her, I know I’m about to be a lucky man. “Then I guess it’s a damn good thing you’re staying in my room tonight. I can’t wait to meet this so-called sexual deviant. A sweet thing like you, I don’t think you have a single kinky bone in your body, but you could always prove me wrong. And if you want, I can always lend you mine,” I tell her as I gesture to the bulge in my shorts, grinning as her cheeks turn pink with embarrassment.

  But then she looks down at my lap, and I have a feeling that she likes the idea just as much as I do.

  THINGS HAVE moved alarmingly fast ever since we got to Branson’s place, with his mom buying me clothes, his temporary proposal—which, I have to admit, was a pretty damn sweet gesture—to my practically mauling him on his reclining couch. The thing is that I didn’t want to stop, even though I forced myself to. If he hadn’t been injured, we’d probably already be naked and I’d be begging for him, but then I felt him stiffen underneath him, and the concerned side of me took over. That doesn’t mean I don’t want him. He could apparently read me easily. The desire I feel for him is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, and I need to get some space before I throw myself at him again.

  “My sexual deviance aside—which, by the way, is buried deep down there somewhere—I’m still not sleeping in your room, Branson. I know we’ve gotten to know each other this past week, but Jesus, we’re practically strangers!”

  He ignores me, and apparently, I didn’t move far enough away, because when he leans over, he hooks an arm around my waist, hauling me up against him until his lips are hovering over my ear. “You keep talking about your sexual deviance, baby, and we’re about to become intimately acquainted.” God, he hast an impossible one-track mind, and he’s right. If we keep talking about this, I’m about to forget that broken kneecap and mount him right here. “And plus, baby, it’s not as if this would be the first time you’ve stayed overnight with me. The only difference is that, this time, I’ll remember it.”

  Usually, something like that would be a total turnoff, but it causes me to laugh. I lean back from him, trying not to smile at his mischievous grin. “Yeah, I spent the night with you, Branson. Although it wasn’t all sex and passion.”

  He frowns, and I nod, giving him a sorry smile.

  “Yep, after we spent all that time discussing the problems in our lives, I helped you to your room. And like any Good Samaritan, I stuck around, afraid you’d choke on your own vomit and suffocate while you were passed out on the bed. The same bed on which I slept on top of the covers. Sorry to report, nothing happened that night, honey.”

  His expression shifts, and I regret teasing him about that night. I know he was in a bad place, and I have a feeling he’s still healing from the things that plagued him, so I lift his chin until he reaches my gaze, my expression softening.

  “Do you really remember nothing about that night? The first thing you said to me when I sat down at the bar was ‘Why didn’t you splurge for new tits to go along with that rock?’”

  He laughs, and I shove his shoulder back against the recliner. “I guess I’m not quite as charming when I’ve downed half a bottle,” he says, glancing at my chest appreciatively. “And apparently, I lose my eyesight, because there is definitely nothing wrong with your ti…uh, those.”

  “Nice save. And thank you. Trust me. That night didn’t come without its lessons. Even drunk, you’re pretty observant. That ring wasn’t me. It never was. I thought the ring was extravagant, but that’s the type of man Benjamin is. All about appearances. It wasn’t until you took one look at it and threw a ‘trophy bitch’ label at me that I began to question everything. And even though you were drunk as sin and I was pissed off, you were right. It may have taken me months, but I probably have you to thank for running away that day. I knew what he wanted in a wife, and I came this close to becoming a Stepford replica. If you hadn’t planted those seeds in my head, then I’d be on my honeymoon, having just thrown away the rest of my life.”

  A chill runs through me as he runs his fingers up and down my arm. “And you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t be with me.”

  I laugh softly. “I guess not. And being right here, right now? I know it’s weird, but it feels right, and I’m glad you don’t want me to leave.”

  He kisses the top of my head, and the act is comforting. “I’m glad you don’t want to. Because having you here? It does feel right. And for over a week, you’ve kept the loneliness at bay. I’ve smiled more in a week than I have in months. Probably years, even.”

  Sitting up, I turn to look at him. “That’s kind of what scares me. I left Atlanta because I was someone I didn’t want to be anymore. I wanted to find myself. Find my strength. But now that I’ve found you, I’m not sure what I’m looking for anymore. And when the day comes that I have to leave, I don’t know that I’ll be able to.” I swallow hard and look away, hoping I’m not saying too much. But there’s this undeniable pull between us, and I don’t want to spend this time faking it.

  Regardless what he says, he’s not pretending with me.

  He tilts my head until I meet his eyes. “Hey, no one’s saying anything about leaving. Let’s just… Let’s take it day by day. I have all the time in the world, Ari.”

  “What are you saying, Branson?” I ask, searching his eyes, needing him to spell it out for me.

  “Well… I guess what I’m saying is let’s do this. I thought I could pretend with you, but I don’t think that’s possible. I want you. Here, in my house, in my bed, for long as I can have you. I know this thing is temporary. And I’m okay with that. Permanent’s not in the cards for me any longer. But at least you and I? Well, we have no time limit.” He grabs my hand and holds it up between us. “Be my temporary fiancé, for real.”

  This is crazy. Insane, even. And if my parents had any idea what I’m contemplating, they’d threaten to have me committed. But you know what? For the first time in my life, I’m cutting through the caution tape, ready to explore this unchartered territory, no matter what danger may lie on the other side. So, for the second time tonight, I agree.

  “Yes, Branson, I’ll be yours…temporarily.”

  I hesitate on the last word. I already know this feeling is something I could get used to, and I’m not sure temporary will be in my vocabulary for long.

  AFTER OUR conversation, Branson cooled the jets, and I was appreciative for it. Light and fun was what I needed, so when he turned on a South Park marathon, I snuggled up against his chest and enjoyed the feel of his laughter causing it to rumble underneath me even though I was skeptical about watching a cartoon.

  Unsurprisingly, his mom stops by with dinner, which we both eat with gusto after having suffered a week’s worth of hospital food. The rest of the night is spent watching television, and it’s hands down the most comfortable date setting I’ve ever been in. I’m used to being stuffy, charity arm candy on boring trips to the opera. Hell, now that I think back on it, I can’t even remember if Benjamin and I ever even went to a movie just for fun.

  This, gorging on homemade lasagna and laughing at the utterly ridiculous antics of perpetual fourth graders in a fictional cartoon town in South Park, is exactly what I need. I can just picture Victoria’s face if she could see me know, and a jolt of glee shoots through me. I’m pleased to know that, even with his high-up position at his father’s company, he’s not pompous or stiff and has no problem sitting back, relaxing, and lounging around. It’s refreshing, and all it does is m
ake me want him—this—more.

  A week ago, if you’d have told me I’d be leaving one man to shack up with another, I’d have called you crazy. But now that I’m here, I can’t imagine being anywhere else, and I hope this bubble doesn’t burst any time soon.

  With a full belly, a warm shoulder to cuddle on, and the sleep-inducing pain medications, I’m finding it hard to keep my eyes open. My head nods a couple of times, and even though my anxiety about sharing a bed with Branson has grown increasingly stronger over the last few hours, I know that it’s time to get it over with. Not that I think it’s going to be a hardship. Quite the opposite in fact.

  I’ve been curled up with him all night, enjoying every single second of it. He’s possessively held me close, almost as if he were afraid to let me go. The warmth makes me feel like I’m in the most sheltered cocoon, shielded from the outside world. From my parents. From my ex. From everything I’ve been running from. And the idea of sleeping with him? Eager doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel. It’s the other things that can be done in a bed that have me anxious.

  Even though we’ve both admitted that we want it, it still feels too soon. Not to mention his broken patella and the fact that Dr. Webber told me I needed to wait a few weeks to participate in any strenuous activities due to my splenectomy. And I have a feeling that being with Branson will be anything but slow and sweet.

  The thought sends a jolt of pleasure through me, and I sigh, not sure I’m going to be able to resist this man for long—not sure I even want to try. I guess that’s where hands and mouths get involved. We’ll just have to use our imaginations. The talk of sexual deviancy and kink comes to mind, and the room temperature increases. A cold shower sounds really good right about now. That and bed.

  With a yawn, I sit up from the couch and look down on him, unable to help the smile the crosses my lips when I see that he’s already fast asleep. I’m not shocked considering that his last round of pain medication was taken within the last hour. This, however, leaves me with a dilemma. As I glance from him to the wheelchair, I know there’s no way I’m going to be able to move this six foot one, 195-pound man by myself. Sure, I exercise on a semi-regular basis, but he outweighs me easily by sixty pounds, and if I try to lift him, I fear we might both end up on the floor with him on top of me. If the circumstances were different, I’d be completely okay with that scenario, but with his injured knee, the last thing I want to do is complicate things or cause him to injure himself even further.