Instigation

by Tessa Teevan

  Just as his breathing changes, I gather up the courage to speak my own truth. “Rafe?” I whisper, staring out into the darkness.

  “Yeah, baby?” he answers, his voice sleepy and utterly sexy.

  “I just wanted you to know . . . Well . . . you make me feel safe,” I admit, holding my breath as I await his response.

  He tightens his arm around my waist and presses a soft kiss to the top of my head. “I hope I always will.”

  SOFT LIPS BRUSH MINE then trail down my cheek. I moan in protest, not ready to wake from the most incredible dream. One where Rafe has spent the night kissing every inch of my body until no spot was left without his mark. In fact, if I could live in this dream forever, I’d never want to wake up.

  “Morning, beautiful.” His low, gravelly voice is warm.

  I’m aware that it wasn’t a dream. It was reality. My new reality. And I wonder why I took so long to come home with him. As his mouth nibbles across my jawline, I shiver.

  Peeking one eye open, I watch the top of his head as it descends down my neck and along my collarbone. He’s straddling me, and his firm body covers mine to perfection. Almost as if he were made for me. My hand comes up and I trace my nails along his bare back. He looks up at me, a sleepy grin on his face.

  “Morning, handsome.”

  If possible, his grin widens, the sight causing my heart to flutter.

  “I could get used to wake-up calls like this, but it’s the weekend,” I groan, closing my eyes and pretending to go back to sleep.

  He pulls the covers off me, and I shiver as soon as the cold air hits my skin. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

  “Rafe,” I scold, opening my eyes to see him grinning down at me. It’s infectious, and even though I try to maintain my frown, I can’t. A mirroring smile crosses my own face. “Saturdays are for sleeping in. Didn’t anyone teach you that?”

  He leans down and presses a quick kiss to my lips. As I twist my hips, he settles between them, his hard erection nestling against my core. Nothing separates us except for the thin material of his boxers, and just as I begin to rock my hips, he rolls off me. Once again, I moan in protest, and once again, he smirks.

  “Baby, I could spend all day damn day in bed with you, and sleeping is the last thing we’d be doing.” He trails a lone finger along the curve of my breasts then cruelly pulls it away before he gives any attention to my now hardened nipples, which anticipate his touch.

  I turn to look at him see the confliction in his eyes, which is quickly replaced by determination.

  “But I promised you a weekend-long date, and I always deliver.”

  Memories of the night before flood in, and my cheeks flush. “Yes. Yes, you do. Now, how about you deliver again?”

  In a flash, he quickly rolls back on top of me and rocks his hips against me before leaning down. He bypasses my mouth, however, and his lips come to my ear, where he nibbles softly. “You’re a bad influence, Brie, and as enticing as you are, I’m not falling for it. I promise I’ll do more than deliver. Later.”

  With that, he pushes up from the bed, and I immediately miss his warmth. Still, when he turns away, I lean up on my elbows and admire the way the material tightens over his ass as he strolls to the master bathroom. The muscles in his back ripple as his arms come up to brace the doorframe on the entrance to his bathroom. He turns his head and gives me a heated look that warms me all the way to my toes.

  “Although I wouldn’t object to you joining me in the shower if you want a preview of what to expect later on,” he tells me, giving me a wink before dropping his boxers and moving out of view.

  He doesn’t have to ask me twice. I quickly jump off the bed and race to the bathroom, practically tackling him. He laughs and scoops me up into his strong arms, carrying me to the shower, where he goes above and beyond to deliver. And then some.

  When we finally emerge, I notice he’s placed my hair and makeup products on his bathroom counter. As I dry my hair, he touches up his slight beard, and I can’t help stealing glances at him in the mirror. Getting ready for our day next to each other feels entirely too domestic, yet it’s so natural. It just seems right.

  Everything about my relationship with Rafe is that way. I’m more invigorated and carefree than I have probably ever been, and it scares the hell out of me how quickly I’ve falling for him. At the same time, it thrills me to no end, and instead of letting fear get the best of me, I’m going to trust my heart. Because all signs are pointing to him, and after last night, I know he’ll never hurt me.

  Strong arms wrap around my waist, tearing me out of my thoughts. My heart leaps when I look up and catch his eyes in the mirror. He’s watching us intently, and I do the same. We look perfect together.

  “I love you being here, Brie. Like you said, I could definitely get used to this. I want to get used to this, and I want it for you, too.”

  It’s as if he’s read my mind. I blink then meet his eyes again. “I think I already am,” I whisper, bringing my hands to his. “You make me feel so many things, Rafe. Things I didn’t know I’d feel again. And most of all, you make me feel safe.”

  A low growl emits from his throat. Then, suddenly, he turns me around and lifts me so I’m sitting on the counter. He bows his head until our eyes meet, our mouth merely centimeters apart. “I will always keep you safe, Brie. Always. No matter what happens, never doubt that. It’s a promise I refuse to break.”

  My heart flutters at the earnest tone of his voice. It’s almost desperate, as if he’s pleading with me to believe it. But he doesn’t have to. I already do.

  “I know, Rafe. I have no doubts.”

  “None?”

  I shake my head. “Not a single one.”

  A relieved smile breaks out on his face, and before I can question it, he pulls me off the counter. “If we don’t get out of here soon, we’re going to end up back in that bed. And as good as that sounds, I have plans for you today.”

  Placing my hand in his, I drag him out to the living room and grab my purse. “Then let’s go. Because the sooner we go do whatever you have planned, the sooner we can come back.” I give him a saucy wink.

  He groans, making a show of adjusting himself in his jeans. He grumbles when I laugh and slaps my ass before leading me out to the elevator. As we ride down, he takes my hand, and I smile wide, unable to contain my excitement for whatever he has planned.

  Even though I pester Rafe about where we’re going, he won’t tell me. However, once he drives onto Benjamin Franklin Parkway, my heart starts to race as I get a sense of where he’s taking me. Sure enough, it’s not long before we pull up to The Philadelphia Museum of Art.

  “Really?!” I squeal, throwing myself across the car and my arms around his neck. I had no idea I wanted to do this, but now what we’re here, I find that I do.

  He laughs. “Yes, really.”

  We exit the car and hold hands as we walk up to the massive stone staircase leading up to the main building of the museum. I stop at the bottom, taking a moment to drink in the sight of the façade and columns I’ve gazed upon so many times before. Closing my eyes, I try to remember the last time I was here with my parents, and instead of hurting, I smile at the happy memory.

  “Brie?” Rafe’s soft whisper causes my eyes to flutter open. When he sees the tears in them, he curses and starts to turn, but I pull him close. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I thought this was a good idea . . .” he says, trailing off when I rise to my tiptoes and kiss him on the lips.

  “It’s not just a good idea, Rafe. It’s perfect,” I assure him, sniffling and smiling at the same time. “I’m just a little emotional about it, remembering my parents and all. I haven’t been here in . . . Oh gosh, it’s been nearly two years. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

  “You said last night that, with me, you felt at home. Someone took them from you, and I know I can’t ever bring them back, but I’ll do everything in my power for you to feel as close to them as possible. Exploring the city and expl
oring all the places you loved visiting together seemed like a good start.”

  “What did I ever do to deserve a man like you, Rafe Matthews?” I ask quietly, gazing up at him.

  “You said yes,” he says simply.

  “I always will,” I answer.

  Even though there’s a chill in the air, heat swirls around us. It’s as if we’re in our own blissful bubble and nothing will ever penetrate it. I have no idea what I’m doing, allowing myself to become so close to someone after the disaster with Adrian, but I can’t fight my feelings for him. Still, the air between us is thick, and I’m about two seconds away from throwing my arms around him and telling him just how I feel.

  One corner of his mouth tilts up into a smirk. “I’m going to remember you said that,” he warns.

  I laugh, grateful that his teasing brought my soaring heart and overactive mind back down to Earth before I started spouting off emotional declarations. “That sounds terrifying,” I tease.

  His smirk deepens as his hand slides down my back to cup my ass. “Oh, baby, you have no idea,” he whispers as his teeth nip at my bottom lip.

  “Okay, horndog,” I tell him, pushing him back. “Are you ready to be wowed by my knowledge? After all, it’s about time I get to put my art history degree to use, even if it is just for a day.”

  His expression softens. “You won’t be a receptionist forever, Brie,” he tells me.

  I hold a finger up and stop him. “Let’s hope not, but drop all the serious talk.” I turn and jog up a few steps before looking back at him with a hand on my hip. “Plus, I have a scorching-hot boss. I’m not exactly clamoring for a new job any time soon.”

  “A hot boss?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow.

  “The hottest,” I tease. “Now, come on.

  He climbs the steps two at a time until he reaches me. After he slips his hand in mine, we walk up together. Suddenly, halfway up the steps, he stops and drops my hand. He places his hands on his hips and looks around, his eyes widening.

  “I had no idea,” he murmurs as a reverent look crosses his face.

  My eyebrows narrow. “What are you talking about?”

  He leans in and gives me a quick kiss. “Sorry, baby, but I’ll meet you at the top.”

  With that, he turns and starts jogging up the steps. A light bulb flashes in my mind and I just shake my head, following him as I admire his ass. When he gets to the top, his lifts his hands in the air in triumph, not even out of breath. I finally reach him, and he grabs me by the waist and twirls me around.

  “This where they filmed Rocky!” he exclaims, and I laugh, nodding. “I love this place already.”

  I grin. “Umm, did you miss the Rocky statue down there? Your powers of observation are failing you,” I tease.

  He looks around. “Where?”

  I point, loving the boyish look of glee on his face. I having a feeling that this is just the first of many, many trips here with him, and I couldn’t be happier. I wouldn’t want to share this with anyone else.

  As we take our time browsing through the museum, he asks questions about Mom and Dad. He’s the first person to have taken an interest in them since their deaths—aside from prosecutors and reporters. The setting is perfect, and for the first time in so long, it’s nice to remember our happy times. We have so many memories here and all around Philadelphia. I could kick myself for forgetting them. I owe Rafe so much more than he’ll ever know.

  After walking through halls of Asian and African art, we make our way to the European section. My breath catches as we finally come to the French Impressionism Era. Years ago, this would’ve been the first gallery I’d have visited, but today, I wasn’t sure I was ready. With Rafe, however, I find that I am.

  I drop his hand and wander closer, taking my time to study each and every one even though I’ve seen them plenty of times. I get lost in Pissarro, Sisley, and Renoir, among others, but it isn’t until I come upon Monet that my heart falters.

  My nose burns as tears threaten. Monet’s The Railbridge at Argenteuil was always Mom’s favorite.

  Rafe comes up behind me and places his arms on my shoulders. “You okay, baby?” he asks.

  I nod my head even though I sniffle. The truth is, I really am okay. “It was the first painting I ever laid eyes on, before I even knew it. Even before my birth, my mom was planning on introducing me to the art world. She was determined that it was going to be our thing. A reproduction of this painting was in my nursery as a baby. It hung on the wall of every room I ever lived in until I went to college,” I explain, not taking my eyes off the work of art.

  He listens in silence and gives my shoulders an encouraging squeeze, so I continue.

  “When I once asked her why that painting, she told me that it gave her a sense of calm. Of tranquility. Even though Monet didn’t paint the sun, the reflection off the water was evidence that it was there.” I pause, tilting my head as I wonder if he sees it, too. “I remember the way she playfully tapped my nose. ‘Like when you were just a tiny baby, growing in my womb. I’d sit in the rocking chair of your nursery and the painting brought me joy. I couldn’t see you, but I knew you were there. It’s a good life lesson. Always remember that, Brie,’ she said. ‘Even if you can’t see me, I’ll always be with you’.”

  “That’s a good lesson to learn,” he whispers.

  A tear trickles down my cheek at the memory. “From that moment on, I wanted to study art, to be able to look at something so seemingly simple yet let it touch my soul so profoundly. God, what I wouldn’t do to have that painting back again.”

  “What happened to it?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “After my parents . . . After the funeral, I couldn’t stand to go back into the house. Most of my things were in the dorm anyway. It had to be put on the market, however, because I obviously couldn’t pay the mortgage. I packed up what I wanted to keep and placed it all in a storage unit. A local church came and got everything else for donations. It’s possible it’s still there. At the time, it was too painful to even look at. I kind of blocked all of that out. That entire day was a blur. Hell, that whole year was.”

  “We’ll get it back,” he tells me, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “I promise.”

  My hand comes up and squeezes his. “Thank you.”

  I wipe my eyes and move along to the next one—another Monet, the gorgeous Morning at Antibes. It doesn’t evoke such sad emotions, and I take my time studying the beauty of it.

  “French Impressionism has always been a favorite of mine. That would be thanks to my mom, of course. Every museum we ever went to, that was the first exhibit she’d visit. I fell in love with the radical technique and sobering colors. The way the artists painted a masterpiece using a different technique of their brushstrokes, creating shadows with concentrated shades of color. They’re incredible, how effortless the paintings look, when in reality they were so carefully composed. Where does one come up with the creativity to paint a landscape this way? It gives it a classic beauty, yet there’s still such mystique and intrigue to it, you know?”

  He’s silent behind me, and I tilt my head as I study the painting.

  “Rafe?”

  “I am not a Renaissance man,” he jokes, and I laugh as I continue to gaze upon the Monet in front of me. “Although I have always had a fond appreciation for things of beauty. Especially mysterious ones.”

  His voice has softened, and the emotion in it causes me to turn from the painting to look back at him. His eyes are on me and not the wall behind me. My cheeks flush, and I bow my head slightly, not meeting his gaze as I wonder when I last felt truly beautiful. Long before him. That much I know.

  As his fingers brush my bangs out of my face, I raise my eyes and look up into his. I’ll never tire of looking at this man. More than that, I’ll never tire of the way he looks at me. Ever since that first day, he’s seen me, and each day that passes, I see myself more, too.

  “Brie, ever since I met you, all I’ve wanted was to ta
ke away all your pain. You were—are—this beautiful, mysterious creature who was caged up. I wanted to set you free, yet I want to keep you as mine. It’s fucking conflicting as hell, but above all else, it’s your pain I want.”

  His words flow over me and settle in a deep place in my heart, which was previously closed off from anyone. His sincerity, his protectiveness, the gentle ease and tender way with which he treats me. It’s all suddenly overwhelming yet liberating at the same time. I swallow hard, wanting to say so much but unable to do so. It’s too fast, too soon. Still, as I look into his eyes, I give him complete honestly.

  “What pain?”

  A sigh of relief escapes him as a beautiful smile covers his face. “You mean that?”

  I nod, because for the first time since my parents died, I don’t feel any pain. In this moment, at this place, with this man who calls me Brie, I am happy.

  “Mission accomplished, Matthews. I am truly happy for the first time in so damn long, and it’s you I have to thank for that.”

  His large hand comes to the back of my head as he pulls me against his chest. Pressing a kiss down on my head, he sighs softly. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that. Promise me that, no matter what happens in the future, you’ll always remember this moment. You’ll always remember how I make you feel.”

  My eyebrows draw together at his words, but before I can question it, he pulls back and bows his head to brush his lips against mine.

  “Promise me.”

  It’s almost a plea, and the depth of emotion in his voice has me answering instantly. There is no hesitation when it comes to him.

  “I promise, Rafe. I couldn’t forget this even if I wanted to.”

  “Good,” is his reply as he releases me and takes my hand.

  Apparently, that’s the end of the conversation, which is fine with me because my heart’s working in overdrive from every sweet thing he’s said and done this weekend. And it’s not even half over. How he could possibly think I’d ever forget this is beyond me. The desire to soak up every moment with him and commit it to memory is overwhelming. That was an easily made promise.