Because Of Love

Cool it hormones. Pregnancy had her emotions on overdrive, including-a recent development-her libido.

What was he still doing here? She turned and her eye caught his belt, it lay on the far end of the couch with his suit jacket socks and watch. He’d gotten comfortable, which meant he’d had no intention of going anywhere after he’d tucked her into bed. The alcohol made sure of it. But, he just lived a short elevator ride down, surely he would have been able to make it?

“What are you doing here Rafe?”

He raised-no, he pulled up one arm, judging by how heavy it looked as he raised it-and pointed to the ceiling, with one finger, his hand bobbing as his wrist struggled to hold it up.

“Carrie moved in,” he said with a slight slur.

She sighed, exasperated, “Yes, I know. She’s in the spare bedroom.”

Talia didn’t like dealing with drunks, no matter how much she cared for them. They were a nuisance. Since she’d never seen Rafe drunk, she hoped he didn’t have weird antics like diving and swimming on the bed like Carrie did.

“No, no. Not here.” His raised hand bounced, his wrist managing to hold his hand up long enough to keep his pointing finger steady, “Up there.”

“What?” Talia stared up at the ceiling then down at Rafe. What was up there? Wasn’t it the sundeck roof? They were on the top floor of the twelve story condominium. Did he mean downstairs? That was where his other unit was. How in the world had he manage that? Carrie would never have moved out and left her alone with him.RêAd lat𝙚St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only

That finger lowered to him and pressed into his chest, bending at the knuckle, “I… moved in… here.”

“Excuse me?” she exclaimed.

She closed her eyes, raised her hand and pinched the bridge of her nose between the knuckles of her index and middle fingers, feeling a little more than annoyed. Why in the world would Carrie move out and let Rafe move in? Why did neither of them consult her and ask if she was comfortable with the new living arrangements?

She opened her eyes and immediately took a step back, dropping her hand when her gaze met his. Even with the dim lighting, she could see what was in that deep unblinking stare. He shifted, pulling himself into a sitting position. His elbow rested on his knees. His gaze not once broke contact with hers. She took another step back, her heartbeat picking up speed. The room grew stuffy, almost suffocating, heavy with tension. He pushed himself up to his feet, wobbled, steadied and stood in his full height. She took another step back, her breathes coming a little faster. His gazed still holding hers hostage, the brown of his eyes darkened to almost black and she knew she was screwed if she didn’t do something.

“No!” She came awake when he shifted to the side as if to go around the table, holding her hands out open in front of her. “You’re drunk and I’m…” ‘losing the little sanity I have left’ was what she wanted to say but instead she said, “Not up for that.”

When he blinked, coming awake himself, breaking the heavy moment, she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Why don’t you sit back down and I’ll bring you a cup of coffee and a gallon of water.”

He smirked, then dropped back heavily on to the couch, his eyes shutting immediately his head touched the back rest. Talia quickly shuffled to the kitchen and turned on the coffee pot. She pulled out all the bottles of water from the fridge-a total of five but if there was more she would have carried all of them with her-and took them to the living room before quickly escaping back into the kitchen. She didn’t want to think about what almost happened, what he’d clearly wanted to do and would have done if she hadn’t stopped him.

That look, she knew that look all too well and she’d worked hard to lock the feeling it invoked in that box she stored in the dark corner of her heart. But it seemed to have seeped out and she really didn’t want to give it more attention that she already had in that moment she’d been confronted with it-when Rafe looked at her like he wanted to ravish her.

That look, it always spread a ticklish heat over her body coupled with baited anticipation. It was paralyzing and yet at the same time turned her into his puppet, the strings telepathically pulled. The very first time she’d met him, it was that look that had trapped her. He didn’t have to even touch her to get her body to react, all he had to do was look at her with that look.

A shiver rushed through her and her breath caught in her throat before she coaxed it free with a gulp of air.

Once she had the coffee poured into a mug, she reluctantly went back to join him. She noticed, thankfully, one of the bottles sat open and empty, and another was halfway there. Standing next to him, she held the coffee under his nose, shifting it away slowly as his nose followed the aroma of the Ethiopian coffee.

Both his hands rose in open invitation and Talia placed the hot mug in them.

“Careful, its hot,” she warned.

He grunted, taking the mug and lifting it to his lips. He took a long sip, his eyes still closed. Talia moved to join him on the couch, her body giving her very little choice. As much as she would like to run from him, to keep as much space as she possibly could between them, her sore ankles and her tight back were complaining under the pressure. There were other seats but they were stiff and straight singles. The couch was the only one that she found comfortable. She lowered herself a cushion away from him and was glad she hadn’t unceremoniously drop into it. That would have been embarrassing. She already felt like a waddling whale as it is.