The Protector 2

Chapter One-12

I toss and turn in bed, trying to think, but I just can’t figure out myself. Why am I still so attracted to him after how he behaved with me? Of course, many things have been cleared after he admitted why he was in a flutter back then, but I’m not so quick to absolve him fully from his responsibilities. If I had told him about my family, things would have turned out different, that’s true. I myself caused some trouble with my secrecy, but that can’t be a reason for any guy to treat a girl the way Rafe treated me. The thing is, I still can’t think of anyone else, and I long to be with him so insanely, that it’s ridiculous. We only need to touch, or his hand needs to rub against mine, and I’m already wet between my legs. What nonsense! And what bothers me the most is why I don’t feel something similar when I think of Johnny. Anyway, why don’t I think of Johnny a lot more often?

It’s one in the morning, and since I’m still awake, tossing and turning, I decide to test the legendary sleeplessness cure of lukewarm milk. There is complete silence upstairs, I don’t hear any noises from Rafe’s room either. I lurk down the steps, and getting into the living room, I see Mac snoozing on the sofa; in front of him, the laptops’ screens are blaring on the table, showing the outside landscape. I purposely don’t switch on the light, but sneak into the kitchen quietly, and take the carton of milk out of the fridge. I take a mug from the shelf, and try to work out how to heat up the milk without making any noise. The sound of the microwave would definitely wake up Mac, and that would be too bad. It’s sad enough that he has to sleep on the uncomfortable sofa. So I choose to just lean against the counter and sip on the cold milk.

As I hear the entrance door open, the blood freezes in my veins. My first thought is: why the hell is the door not locked? Then, I suddenly think, they must have discovered us here. Could I have revealed our whereabouts last time, when I was so carelessly using my phone outside? Petrified, I turn towards the door, and meet Rafe’s shocked stare. He looks at me as if he is seeing a ghost. When he eventually composes himself, he carefully closes the door behind him and takes off his jacket. He’s only wearing a simple T-shirt and a pair of jeans. He’s so gorgeous, it drives me mad – I remark to myself, biting on my lip, watching the muscles tense and relax under his shirt. Really, what the hell was he doing outside, in the open air, in the middle of the night? This means I’m not the only one struggling with insomnia.

His footsteps are slow and undetermined, as if not knowing which way to go. Like someone who knows fine well that the direction of the kitchen and the fridge is the only one he must steer clear of, yet, he can’t, and his feet bring him right here, obeying an irresistible magnetic power. Mac begins to stir on the sofa, so Rafe waves to him that everything is okay. He sidles into the kitchen and stops about a yard from me. I’m only wearing the mid-thigh nighty, and as I glance down at myself, I see that my hardened n*****s can be seen through the soft fabric, and my bare thighs flash from under the nightdress. My hair is spread on my shoulders in chaos, I look a mess. I didn’t expect company. Rafe stares at me, leaving his mouth open, but it’s hard to tell if there is more shock, fright or appreciation on his face. My throat is bone dry as I try to swallow, I cling on to my mug for support. Rafe leans against the kitchen counter, and runs his hand over his sexy stubbled chin with agony.

“What are you doing here?” he asks quietly.

I cast a quick glance at my own scarce clothing, make an effort to pull the edge of my nighty a bit lower – in vain – and answer, after clearing my throat.

“I couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d drink some milk.” I put a lock of hair behind my ear, only to let another three loose. “Would you like some?” I ask with embarrassment, and take a sip. I swear I’m not doing it on purpose, but as I take the mug from my mouth, I automatically lick the froth off my upper lip. Rafe scans me once again with his eyes, very slowly, and his gaze settles on my mouth. He also licks his mouth, and moans. He eats me up with his eyes, but I can see that he keeps himself in control.

“Have you come down here in nothing but a nighty, only to make my life a misery?” he whispers quietly, to make sure Mac can’t hear him, but his blunt question hits me hard, and I lose my breath.

In the past days it happened several times that I made a point to provoke him, but that was before our famous discussion. It hasn’t occurred to me since then to intentionally wind him up. I’m as surprised as him that we’ve run into each other in the kitchen, in the middle of the night; and now, as he stands in front of me, leaning against the kitchen counter, his hair all rumpled, wearing a tight shirt, he probably has no idea how much he’s driving me nuts. I can see that he wants me, but I don’t know if he’s aware of how much I want him too.

I assume he’s not expecting a real answer to his former question, so I just shake my head, and quietly reach the mug out to him. He takes it exactly as quietly, and drinks up the rest. He places the mug on the counter, and slowly runs his fingers through his hair. What comes after this, absolutely turns me upside down.

“I know that I totally ruined your first time. I’m terribly sorry, I was a prick. You deserved much better.”

I stare at him with my chin dropped, his unexpected words take me by complete surprise. Why is he bringing it up right now? After all, we’ve already cleared the whole stupid misunderstanding, and he’s apologized. What’s more, I even slapped him around the other day. Not that it made me feel much better, but it still had a symbolic value. So why do this now? Would I have deserved better? Well, that’s for sure. Every girl deserves better than what I got. It’s damn sure he killed my first s****l experience. It took me time and some hard work to rid my system of Rafe Harlan’s poison. And how much ahead am I now? My progress is worth no more than a piece of s**t. My knees still go fluid every time this man is around me and calls my name. So much about sobriety, and that one learns from their own mistakes – I grumble, and my eyes are caught on Rafe’s belly, visible through his shirt. As he locks his fingers around the back of his neck, squeezing his head between his lower arms as if he was in great pain, to my agony, the shirt slides up his body, letting his tight tummy show with all that charming, soft fluff that covers the spot above his crotch. Good heavens! I openly admire his bare belly, and fantasize about how it would feel to run my tongue over his skin, starting from that sensuous spot all the way to his belly button, so that, continuing the exploration southwards, I could taste every gorgeous square inch. Where else is there a tattoo on the body of Mr. Do-what-I-say-and-when-I-say-it Harlan?

Rafe’s quiet throat-clearing brings me to my senses, and as I look up with cheeks flushed, the mouth of the cheeky guy makes a contented little smile. Was it so hot in the kitchen before, or has someone turned up the heating? I quickly turn my back on him, and begin to fidget with the empty mug.

“It wasn’t such a disaster,” I mumble, then roll my eyes, as I’m aware what a lot of nonsense has just left my mouth. It wasn’t such a disaster, my foot! I was just about sickened by the disappointment.

“Don’t say that, Rae. I know it was, and I do feel like crap about it.” He steps up closer to me, his belly is just a hair’s width from my back. I shiver at the gentle touch, my hand holding the mug freezes in the sink. Rafe looks around to see if Mac can hear us, then, leaning forward, he cooes into my ear with a sensuous voice: “Sleep with me.”

I drop the mug, it lands in the sink with a clatter as I grasp the meaning of his words. He can’t be serious. He might be drunk. Or the night air has got to his head. I slowly turn around, but we are so close that I have to tilt my head up a great deal so as to look into his eyes – into those charming blue eyes from which burning flames and sheer longing are radiating. He is fixing those eyes on me with seriousness, he doesn’t seem to be joking. I run my tongue along my dry lips, and it’s hard for me to find my voice.

“Are you having fun with me?”

A bitter groan breaks from Rafe’s throat, and he turns his face to the ceiling.

“Do I look like I’m having fun?” he asks hoarsely, and pushes his crotch against my stomach. I’m trying to catch my breath, madly holding onto the edge of the counter. I can clearly feel through my nighty and his jeans how much he’s not joking. He’s big, hard and ready for action. I gulp a few times, try to step backwards, but the kitchen counter behind me prevents my escape. It’s only my brain, anyway, that wants to flee; my body pulses with pain, wanting more of what is bulging under Rafe’s jeans.

“Sleep with me one more time. Just once, Raven.”

“Why the hack would I do that?” I breathe.

“So that I can redeem all that happened. Because since we met again, I practically can’t think of anything else but to make love to you. Because I see and feel that you also want me.”

Mamma mia! Rafe Harlan is definitely a man of straight-forwardness. I carefully glance towards Mac, but he is lying with his eyes closed, apparently ignoring what’s going on in the kitchen. I’m gasping so much, I fear I might hyperventillate soon, and collapse onto the tiles.

“Not true,” I reply much more weakly than I have planned it.

Rafe ignores my flimsy protest, and there is no wonder about it. My body language is probably communicating something else.

"But mostly to make better what happened.”

“To make it better?” I look at him with a frown.

“I want to erase that night from your memory,” he sighs, and puts his finger lightly against my temple. “I know, though, that it’s impossible. I screwed up big time back then, but I want to show you that it doesn’t pass as normal with me either. I don’t take pleasure in brutality, Rae. I’m not the person you left behind on that Halloween night,” he says, pulling a face.

I watch him deep in thought, chewing on my lips, while trying to see through him.

“You’re actually serious, right?”

“Just one time, Rae! I only ask for one chance to show you what it’s like having s*x with the real me, and not a twenty-something, horny, jealous arsehole.” It comes to my mind that he looks quite horny at the moment too, and jealous as well, when I think about Mac, but I choose not to say that out loud. His Adam’s apple jumps up and down loudly while he takes a lock of my hair between his fingers, and lifting it, he slowly pulls it along his lips. “If you agree, then it will be only about you, I swear. I’ll prove that I’m able to… I can make you happy.”