Because Of Love

Without looking back at Nelly, Talia cleared her throat then cheerfully said, “See you later Nelly.” She hurried away, crossing the street without even looking. She wanted to duck and hide at that point. She really disliked it when people were in her business, as minute as it may be, especially people she didn’t know so well.

Then why didn’t you just say no? Or play dumb? She harrumphed as she raised her right hip to the door so that the keycard in her front pocket could scan her in. Was the phone tree already activated in the building? All asking where the Ferrari had suddenly come from and in whose apartment the owner had passed the night? Had nosey Mrs. King already knocked on her door, ready to spy inside? Talia stomped her way to the elevator, grumped for the few minutes it took to her floor and stomped her way off and to her door. She placed the bags down then searched through them for her wallet, phone and keys. She’d dropped her phone in the moment they’d handed the bags to her in the store. A handy excuse to not answer if or when he called looking for her. She pulled her key out and stuck it into the lock. She pushed the door wide open, then grabbed the bags and stepped into her apartment. For a moment forgetting she’d been avoiding coming back to this place, she kicked the door closed, took five steps in the kitchen’s direction and froze. DeLuca was awake.

“Where have you been?” he asked, seated at her four chaired round dining table in nothing but her wrap around his waist, his back to her.

Why is he naked? she thought, staring at his broad back, that broad, red fingernails streaked olive back. Bloody hell! she thought as her body flushed with heat, she’d done that.

He turned, an arm over the backrest of the chair and looked at her, a smile on his very relaxed face and it nearly took her breath away. The rarest of treasures on his forever serious and harsh face. He looked so much like a different person. Brown eyes that usually looked cold and critical now shone like diamonds, light and happy framed with long black eyelashes. Laugh lines around his eyes and lips instead of stress lines on his forehead, and tousled black hair that testified to the good sleep he’d just had, all took her off-guard. This relaxed happy version of him, she didn’t know how to deal with it. Like a splash of cold water, reality took hold again. There was nothing for her to deal with because they were going back to their professional relationship. She groaned inwardly, not relationship. That word was too intimate, interaction was better.

The muscles in her entire body clenched when he pushed out of the chair, the fingers of one hand raking through his hair, pushing the unruly locks back and out of his face as he stood. Standing there in nothing but her colorful wrap riding low on his hips, he looked like sin, an ambassador of sex. Hot, wet, mind blowing sex. Her pussy clenched so tight, she almost orgasmed at the very sight of him, her plan flying out the window.

“Talia,” he began with a knowing chuckle, “are you okay?”

Pull yourself together woman! Her mind screamed at her.

“Ha?” She chortled a tense laugh. “I’m fine.” Then under her breath added, “If only.”

Quickly she moved to stand behind the counter then made part of her kitchen and stood between that space and where her dining table was, where Rafe – no, DeLuca stood.

“I like this,” he said, lifting her wrap with two fingers. “It’s very unusual. What’s it called?”

If he tugged at it, it would fall right off, she thought as she stared at where it had precariously been tucked in at his right hip.Material © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Talia?”

“Ha? Ah yeah the wrap,” she blubbered as she tried to make her mind work. Unpack the bags, she thought and immediately her hands when to work. “Ah, it’s called a leso. It’s a wrap that East African women wear around the house. Men from the Coast wear it too because of the heat.”

Speaking of heat, her throat had dried out. She quickly turned her back to him and shoved stuff into the cabinet above the stove. What she wanted was a glass of ice cold water but she couldn’t let him see how much he’d stirred her up.

“Are you okay?”

Her nerves jangled at his tone and she froze with her hands up. He was definitely not asking out of the goodness of his heart. The underlying tone of his voice suggested something quite different.

Stick to the plan.

Bringing her hands down, she spun on her heel to face him. She pasted on a smile, trying to appear normal in light of the fact that her body was on fire and he looked just as roused. She needed a distraction, before he got it into his mind to go around the counter and jump her again. Before she wasn’t able to say no.

“Why don’t you like being called Rafael or DeLuca?”

The edges of his lips tensed. “That’s my father’s name.”

She nodded, clearly some muddied waters there she shouldn’t venture into. Next.

“So, what happened last night?” she asked. Just as that slick seductive smile began to snake its way across his lips, she added, “You looked like your spirit had left your body.”

His seductive expression changed to confusion. “What do you mean?”

Talia mentally patted herself on the back. Thanks to that, they had taken several steps back from the danger zone. She went back to unpacking the bags but not in the hurried pace she was in a few moments ago. Sedated, she took out a loaf of bread and placed it on the counter top.

“You looked spaced out, unaware, mumbling.”

His face fell and that mask came on. “I don’t know,” he answered shortly.

“Panic attack?” she pushed, repeating the one phrase she had understood and caught from his jumbled up mumbles, more out of curiosity than seeking a distraction.

He stepped back, clearly defensive and with a dry chortle said, “I have nothing to panic about.”

She nodded. “Right.” Not believing a word he said. Something was off and as much as he wanted to lie to himself that he was okay and nothing was wrong, she couldn’t afford it, her role currently being that of a distraction.

“Ever happen before?”

As she moved around the kitchen, putting things away, then to the counter top where she began to make sandwiches, she could feel his eyes bore into her. The silence, long and heavy. He wasn’t going to admit it. Not easily. She understood that. A man like him wouldn’t willingly admit to balking under pressure.

“Yes,” he responded hesitantly, and her left hand froze as she reached for the side plates at the bottom cabinet under the sink. “Before I came here.”

She grabbed the plates and casually placed them on top of the counter. Without a word nor a glance at him, she went on with what she was doing.

He began again, his frustration evident in his voice, “Me and those words together didn’t feel right so I,” he stopped and she looked up then. He looked tense and fidgety. The stress lines back on his face, a tick in his jaw. He ran a hand roughly through his hair, his gaze turned down and said, “So I decided to get away for a while.”

He looked up then and Talia caught the evasive look in his eyes and she finally understood the other thing he was refusing to admit. It glared at her like the hot sun in a sandy desert. Harsh. Exposed. Blistering.

He ran away.