Leaving Rafe

by Jamie Anderson

  Rafe flashed her a grin as he removed the moussaka from the oven. “Well, you pretty much got it in one. That’s exactly what I had in mind when I was working on designing this place. With these kinds of surroundings, I had no desire to cut myself off from them in order to be ‘inside,’ so I told the architect I wanted this to be an extension of the outdoors, and we went from there.”

  “Well, you’ve succeeded brilliantly.” She drew in a deep breath as she glanced at the main course. “It smells divine.” Her stomach growled again.

  “I also picked up some salad and bread on my way home, if you could grab those.” He gestured in their general direction with his chin.

  Ali did as he suggested, but not before giving him a narrow look. “One would almost suspect you had plans to serve dinner despite what I said on the phone.” Though she really did try, Ali found she couldn’t feel too annoyed at the infraction. The moussaka just looked and smelled way too good to resist.

  Which seems to be the precedent with Rafe. Pretty much everything about the man looks, smells, tastes and feels way too good to resist. Dammit.

  Rafe shrugged. “I wanted to get a workout in, but I also have to eat. I figured that rather than risk seeming churlish, I’d get enough food for both of us--and if you remained firm in your refusal to partake, there’d just be leftovers.”

  “Right. Well, let’s not make too much of a habit of it, shall we?” she said sourly, feeling far too domestic as she sliced the fresh baguette. He had put the salad into a bowl before removing a bottle of dressing from the fridge.

  “Balsamic vinaigrette all right by you?”

  “Sounds great,” she said on a resigned sigh, telling herself that next time, she would definitely eat before she came over.

  He tossed the salad, before doling out portions of the moussaka onto two plates.

  Then, Rafe produced a couple of trays and between them, they carried the food out of the tall sliding doors that led from the kitchen to the deck. After arranging things on the table outside, they sat, and Ali tried to prevent herself from being distracted by the beautiful vista and the fresh air that carried in it a heavy charge of tension.

  Time to discuss details.

  She swallowed her bite of salad and took a sip of wine to moisten her throat. “So, I just wanted to make things clear between us, Rafe.”

  He sat back, his gaze amused as he took a leisurely sip of wine. “Fair enough. Clarify away.”

  “I want this to be as you suggested earlier. No strings. No emotional involvement. Just sex and chemistry. Just two people enjoying each other’s bodies.”

  He nodded, his expression neutral. “All right.”

  “If either of us meets someone else, then we can call off our involvement with each other at any time. Ditto if either of us starts getting bored or feels the need for variety. I don’t like the idea of having multiple partners at any given time, so I won’t be doing that, but if you--“

  “Nor do I.” His stern gaze warned her against saying more on the subject. “At worst, I could be called a serial monogamist, but I have never been unfaithful to a woman with whom I am involved.”

  “Right.” She took another bite of food to cover her discomfort with the subject.

  “I will also insist upon using protection,” he continued. “I will not have you falling pregnant by accident.”

  No worries there. But she nodded. “Fine. My other stipulation is a little more difficult.” She hesitated. “See, I don’t want this to get out of hand. So, I wanted to say that if either of us starts getting more deeply involved than we originally discussed, then all bets are off. It’s over.”

  He frowned at that, sitting forward. “You can’t be serious.”

  She swallowed. “It’s not negotiable. If I get the feeling you’re starting to care about me--or if I start to feel like I’m getting too involved with you, that’s it. I walk. I want you to understand that at the outset.”

  “Aren’t you being a little too self-protective?”

  No. “Take it or leave it,” she said with a shrug.

  He snorted, leaning back in his chair and shaking his head. “Wow. And I thought it was supposed to be the guy who turned tail at the first sign of commitment. You could give the most commitment-shy friends of mine lessons.”

  “Like that Paulo guy you used to hang out with?”

  Rafe smiled ruefully. “No. He’s been converted. He’s happily married, with a firstborn on the way and all doubts about the redemptive power of love long since vanquished.”

  “A miracle indeed.” Ali took another mouthful and washed it down with wine. “So, do I have your agreement?”

  He sighed. “Well, you seem determined to provide me little choice in the matter.” He gave her a brooding stare. “You may feel free to end it at any time if you feel that either of our emotions are starting to interfere with the sex.”

  Ali noted his use of the pronoun “you”. As in, he was agreeing that she could end it, but he had no intention of necessarily doing the same if he felt things were getting out of hand.

  She briefly considered pointing out the omission. But, looking at his expression, she knew she had pushed him as far as he was going to go. So, did she insist on more and have him call her bluff? Was she really willing to walk away from him at this point, if he refused to commit himself to anything more?

  As she contemplated the notion, her gaze fixed on some point in the distance, she was acutely conscious of the pull he exerted upon her senses. He had awakened her body with his mere presence, and even now, her tightened nipples and taut muscles yearned for him to eradicate the tension that sizzled between them. Since she had arrived here tonight, her awareness of it had never been far from her mind. Nor had the fact that he alone could take off the edge, with his extraordinary ability to play her body like a finely-tuned instrument. She had been aching for that relief during the restless nights since she had left Ucluelet.

  So, no walking away, then.

  As she cycled through her remaining options, he continued to devour his meal, all the while somehow managing to project a predatory intentness in his manner. Though she wasn’t looking at him, she could practically feel his keen scrutiny, taking in every shift in her expression and posture.

  If she ruled out walking away, what then? She could try pushing him further, but yield his point if he refused to back down. After brief thought, she discarded the notion--if she demonstrated that she wasn’t prepared to follow through on her stipulations, she would be lost before they even began. So, the only other option was to accept his suggestion as if it were no different from her own demand--and to remain doubly vigilant for however long this affair of theirs lasted.

  She darted a glance in his direction. He had finished the last of his food and was sitting back, sipping his wine and watching her.

  Ali released a slow breath, gaze fixed on her plate as she used her fork to toy with a slice of eggplant from the moussaka. “All right. We’ll do it that way.” She made herself set down her fork and meet his eyes.

  For a few moments, he showed no outward reaction to her words. Then, a slow smile curled his mouth. He raised his glass and inclined his head towards her. “Excellent,” he drawled, setting his wine glass on the table and shifting in his seat. Then, he nodded at her plate. “Better finish up. You’ll be needing your strength tonight.”

  In truth, most of her appetite had fled, but Ali took the words at face value, making herself eat more of the delicious meal.

  After she had finished, they collected up the plates and returned inside. “Leave them in the sink,” he said. “I’ll stack them in the dishwasher later.”

  “Right.” She avoided looking at him, unaccountably nervous. Last time, at least, it had been spontaneous, and so she hadn’t had the opportunity to think about it ahead of time. But she had done little else, since then. And now, with the moment looming large, she didn’t quite know how to begin.

  He walked over to stand in front of her and
placed gentle hands on her shoulders. “First of all, before we do anything more, you need to relax.”

  She smile wryly. “Much easier said than done.”

  “Turn around,” he ordered. She complied, and his strong fingers began massaging her muscles, kneading at them with a deft skill, as his thumbs sought out the knots and began applying a calculated pressure. Ali groaned as she felt the muscles start to loosen and release.

  “That’s amazing,” she gasped, as his hands moved across her shoulders and began working at her upper arms. She felt herself starting to relax, closing her eyes as his hands moved further down her arms, massaging the muscles of her forearms.

  Then, his hands slipped under her arms and across her abdomen, moving in long, soothing strokes that melted her tensions. She found herself leaning against him without quite realizing when that had happened. And his skilled hands were suddenly moving up to massage her breasts as his mouth nuzzled against the back of her neck, introducing a note of rising excitement into the sensual languor he had induced moments before.

  One of his hands continued to massage her breast through her clothes, hardening the nipple into an exquisitely sensitized nub, while the other slipped under the fabric of her shirt. She let out a groan at the feel of flesh against flesh, and her breath began to shorten in the rising crescendo of sensation threatening to engulf her.

  Involuntarily, her hands reached backwards, touching his hips, his thighs, his buttocks, even as she pressed her body hard against his, grinding against his erection--exhilarating evidence of his own urgent involvement in their intimacy. But it wasn’t enough--she wanted to be closer still. She turned in his arms, looking up at his intent expression with vision hazed over by desire.

  Then, they were kissing, his tongue plunging deep and hard into her as she pressed against him, pushing her tongue into his mouth with equal vigor.

  She helped him remove her shirt and bra. His shirt was quick to follow, and then they were chest to chest, and she reveled in the feel of her hardened nipples rubbing against the dark, curling hair of his torso. She tilted her head back, leaning her body into him, craving this closeness with an intensity that would have frightened her had she been at all capable of conscious thought.

  Instead, she pressed against him, needing to fuse with him and sink into the union of their shared passion.

  “God, what you do to me, woman,” he muttered, his voice unsteady. He surveyed the bared white column of her throat and the glory of her pale, silken breasts, aching to devour her and lose himself in her hot, moist depths. With a growl he lowered his mouth against her neck as his hand slipped around the back of her head. He used his lips, his tongue, with just a hint of teeth, to make his way up, along her jaw as he lifted her head closer. After pausing at her earlobe, he moved on to her lips, leaning in for another taste of the warm softness of her mouth.

  The sound of her gasp as they moved closer still only served to turn his excitement up higher still, holding on to his control by only the finest of threads. When she suddenly reached between them and tweaked his nipple with the tips of her nails, all residual restraint fled and the instincts of his body took over.

  He was only distantly aware that they had removed each other’s remaining clothes and he had hoisted her onto the kitchen counter. The feel of her legs wrapped around his hips and the sound of her increasingly loud, short gasps guided him deeper into his own wild oblivion as he entered her and began the rhythmic pulse that would lead to ultimate fulfillment.

  Nor did he hear their mingled cries of release as the world exploded around him and for a few moments he couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything at all.

  Then, drawing a deep breath, he straightened to find himself standing in the kitchen with Ali slumped against him, her head against his shoulder, her arms around his chest and her legs around his waist as she sat on the cold tiles of the counter.

  He drew in a shuddering breath and slipped his hands under her buttocks. Still inside her, he lifted her off the counter, surprised by how light she was, and felt her arms and legs tighten around him.

  She sighed against his neck. “Where are we going?” Her voice was muffled and came from somewhere in the vicinity of his shoulder.

  “The bedroom. That couldn’t have been too comfortable for you, Ali. I’m sorry about that.” He shook his head. The kitchen counter, of all places. What the hell had he been thinking?

  And that, of course, had been the problem. He hadn’t been thinking at all. “Nor did I use protection, despite what we only just discussed.”

  He felt her tense suddenly against him and sighed. He really had messed up this time. No matter, he’d own up to the consequences, whatever they might be.

  He frowned. Given her own concerns about keeping things purely physical, with absolutely no strings, he suddenly wondered whether she might suspect he had neglected protection on purpose--not that he ever would resort to such low methods in order to get a woman. He’d best make it clear right now that he wasn’t into that kind of coercion. “I apologise for that, Ali. I just lost it for a few moments there. I wasn’t thinking. But I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again. If there are consequences from this one time, then we will deal with them in a way we can both be comfortable with.”

  Still holding her, he sank down onto his king-sized bed and pulled back to look at her.

  “It shouldn’t be a problem,” she mumbled, avoiding his gaze. “Just so long as it doesn’t happen again,” she added, after a few moments.

  “You do believe me, don’t you? That I just forgot myself?” He tilted her chin and tried to meet her gaze, but though she allowed him to raise her face, she kept her eyes averted for a few moments.

  Then, raising her gaze to meet his, she nodded, her expression oddly grim. “Yes, I believe you. And we won’t let it happen again,” she said slowly, her voice distant.

  He frowned at her a few moments, noting something dark and hidden in her blue eyes, but unable to fathom what it might be. Then, she looked away and smiled suddenly, pulling away from him. The impression dissipated.

  “This should be a little easier on the limbs than the tiles on the counter.” She bounced on the mattress, enthralling him with the way the movement exposed her exquisitely pale body. To his astonishment, the sway of her breasts and the curve of her abdomen actually set parts of him in motion that he would have assumed to be well sated for the moment.

  She slanted him a rueful grin. “Though, to be perfectly honest, I hardly noticed the discomfort until well after the fact.” Her tone was light and he set aside the impression that it sounded slightly forced.

  “Glad to hear it.” He threw her a cocky grin. “It is assuring to know that even if I lost my senses, at least I haven’t lost my touch.” He reached out to run a hand along her bare leg. “Now, how about testing that fascinating hypothesis of yours about the bed being a little easier on the limbs?”

  “I’d probably let you test pretty much any hypothesis you suggest if you keep that up.”

  His chuckled carried with it the edge of a growl. “One look at you and I can keep that--and at least one significant appendage--up long enough to test absolutely anything, to our hearts’ content.”

  He moved his hand to her inner thigh, alternately stroking and massaging her muscles till her eyes begin to darken once more with her rising arousal. He felt a surge of satisfaction at the sight, convinced that his campaign to shift the focus of their relationship from physical into a more emotional realm would meet with an easy victory.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “You really have lost your mind, haven’t you, Rafe?”

  Rafael glared at Paulo, shaking his head. They were at a pub near the office, sitting opposite each other at one of the booths. “Let’s talk about something else, shall we? We’re here to celebrate the birth of your first child, gringo. Not to talk about my love life. Or rather, my sex life.”

  It had been three months since he and Ali had entered thei
r no-strings relationship. And while the sex had been utterly amazing--explosive, passionate and intense--Ali had been true to her word. Rafe had absolutely no sense of any kind of emotional softening on her part. He, on the other hand, had long since begun to realize that as far as he was concerned, control and Ali were mutually exclusive phenomena.

  While she had always been right there for him physically, she consistently eluded him emotionally. Every now and then, he had the sense that she had opened one very tiny door just a crack. He’d have that tantalizing glimpse of the deeper intimacy he had come to crave more intensely than any physical desire. But then, she’d slam it closed and become the polite stranger he had come to resent so much in the last months.

  Certainly, she had made small concessions. They now ate dinner together most nights--though she had pointedly declared that this was merely for the sake of convenience rather than anything more intimate. But while they conversed amiably enough at such times, she always made sure they stuck to topics that--though fascinating--revealed little of her emotions and vulnerabilities.

  The distance she kept between them was tearing him apart. Within a few short weeks after they began their relationship, he had realised that his feelings ran far deeper than the need to possess and protect her. He was already deeply in love, without quite realizing when that happened. And to his own frustration, it seemed he had no control over that, either.

  All he could do was redouble his efforts to undermine the boundaries she had built around herself, in the hopes that she would begin to unbend with time--all the while making it seem like he was interested in nothing more than a casual relationship as well. Her stipulation about ending it between them if she began to suspect he was starting to care burned and chafed at him.