Because Of Love

When he said he was moving in, he hadn’t been joking. He’d gotten really comfortable, like a roach in a dirty corner of the house. She relaxed him, he said. She watched as his face frowned, his eyes momentarily shifting to the packet his fingers were currently digging in, before abandoning it with a sigh. Clearly she was over medicating him with her personal brand of fixing all of Rafe’s issues with her presence remedy.

“Bella, is there more?” he grumbled, not bothering to turn to look at her, his attention fixated on the screen. An entertainment device he discovered on his first weekend over as they worked hard to keep their hands off each other.

She stuttered her shock, her head rearing back. Ah hell no! He wasn’t just over medicated, he was clearly overdosed to the point he’d lost his mind.

“I’m going to kick you!” she gritted out through clenched teeth.

“Huh?” he said absently, his chin raising to her direction, but his eyes still glued to the TV screen.

She slapped the counter with her palms. “Okay, enough is enough!” She rounded the counter and moved to stand at the foot of the couch. “Get up. We’re going out.”

Talia hadn’t planned to take him with her on her scheduled errand that day, but clearly push had come to shove.

“Why? It’s the weekend,” he grumbled, pulling the pillow from under his head and hugging it to his chest.

Talia grabbed the visible corners of the pillow and pulled but he wouldn’t let go.

“You’ve done nothing,” tug, “but sleep on that couch,” tug, “eyes screwed to the TV,” she put her foot on the couch for leverage and pulled, “for weeks.”

His hold eased, and the pillow slipped from under his arms. She stumbled back with a successful huff, pushing her hair out of her face.

“Not true,” he bemoaned, sitting up. “I went to work, made you dinner.”

“Ha!” she exclaimed, placing her fisted hands on her hips. “You burned the sauce and turned the pasta back into dough.” She leaned in, eyes narrowed, she added, “You should be ashamed to call yourself Italian.”

He turned his head away, his lips pushed out in a pout like a petulant child. “I don’t call myself Italian. I am Italian.” Then he reached for the Dorito bag on the table.

Teeth clenched tight she growled, “Okay, Rafe, there is nothing left in that damn bag.” She held her fisted hands at her chest, under her chin to keep from smacking him. Heaven knows he was working her last nerve.

“You don’t have to get testy.”

She took a deep breath to calm herself and a stroke of genius hit her. “Rafe,” she began calmly, “this you,” with a pointed finger, she drew a circle outlining him, “is a libido killer.”

“Huh?” he said, mouth hanging open, his dark brows burrowed in a deep V.

Talia bit the inside of her lips to hide her victory smile. Time to turn the blade.

Placing a dreamy look on her face she said, “When I first met you, you were fresh out of the shower. You had these tiny streams over water running down your body,” to draw him a perfect picture, she wiggled her fingers up and down her body, “your towel hung low off your hips and those abs,” then she smiled sadly at his belly which he immediately sucked in.

She fought the urge to laugh and pushed on with her act. With a heavy sigh she said, “I miss those. You looked like a sex fantasy come true, waiting to be tongue dried from head to toe. I had wet dreams about one for days after that.”

“One?” he rasped.Content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

She nodded. “Since you match up to fantasies only found in romance books, tall, broad and mysterious, I decided to keep the mystery and give numbers instead of names.”

“Since there is one, I’m guessing there are two?”

Talia secretly smiled at how rough his voice had gotten. Knowing that she had wet dreams about him was clearly a turn on for him. She spied a look at his crotch, the poor baby must be suffering.

“The day I picked you up for the first day at work, you were like a mirage walking towards me like a tall drink of water in that navy blue pinstriped jacket and matching tie, over the black shirt and pants.” She sighed dreamily, and continued, “I envied that shirt. The way you had your hair slicked back,” in simulation, with one hand at her crown the other at her temple, she pushed them over her hair, “you looked like danger.” She pressed her hands to her chest. “Forbidden temptation. I think my heart stopped for a moment.”

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” he quietly asked, a rough edge to his voice.

Ignoring him, she went on, “But look number three, now that was a panty dropper.”

He stood then, more like leaped to his feet like an agile wild cat preparing to pounce on its prey, his eyes burning with lust. She quickly shuffled back, taking a giant step back when he reached for her.

“You were seated behind your desk, jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled up to your elbows, no tie and three shirt buttons undone. Whew,” she fanned her face with her fingers with a whistle, “you should wear glasses more often. You had a sexy professor vibe going on there. I would have been happy to get graded on that desk.”

He let out a guttural laugh that sent a shot of heat through her body and warned her that she might have gone a little too far. He looked like he was ready to break their pact and jump her and she, her body burning from the bounce back of her vicious plan, she was at risk of not stopping him. She needed to make her point, and fast.

“And then there’s this guy. Couch slob, eating junk all day, his six pack melting into a bulging flabby one pack.” She shook her head disapprovingly with a purse of her lips. “Not attractive at all.”

His eyes narrowed and for a moment, he didn’t say a word, like he was weighing a decision against what he read off her. She took a step back, a silent response and his eyes immediately relaxed, decision made. There would be no erotic dance today, at least not one he initiated. Talia let out a soundless sigh of relief that carried a little bit of disappointment.

He suddenly took off his shirt. “How about now?”