Escalation - Tessa Teevan Page 0,29
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 he leans down and trails his fingers along the bare skin of my arms.
“That’s a good sign,” he whispers, his warm breath tickling