“Shit, sorry.” My mumble sounding more like a plea for divine intervention than an apology.
“Bunny,” Rafe murmured, his large hand reaching out to gently capture my wrist, stopping me just as I was about to sink helplessly to the chair.
“Huh?” I stammered, my eyes glued to where he was holding me instead of on the fact that in my stooped position, I was giving him a good look at the bottom half of my exposed boob.
“Relax. Eat first, then talk.” He smiled gently at me, then letting go of me, he trailed his fingers up my arm gathering the scrunched material, and without a care in the world or taking his eyes from my breast, he fixed my top, his knuckles grazing my collar bone shooting sparks of desire right to my core.
“Thank you,” I breathed as I collapsed into the kitchen chair, my legs quivering and my skin still tingling from his brief touch.
I marked that moment. The moment I fell madly in love with Rafe Walsh, and damn, that only meant trouble for me.
Tea went smoothly if you consider twenty minutes of lingering sexual tension smooth, or Rafe looking at me like he’d rather be eating me instead of the roast. I have to admit I liked the way his eyes kept lingering on the neck of my loose shirt as if his life depended on it. I thought more than once to mess with him, I’d shrug the neckline off my shoulder, but I decided against it. We had a few steps to tackle before getting naked and sweaty if we indeed got there.
“Bunny, how about you go pick a movie on Netflix, and I will clean up the dishes,” Rafe suggested quietly, his eyes firmly in the spot they had been the whole meal. Only this time, there was heat smouldering in his dark orbs. Looking down, I immediately felt my face burn, noticing that I had indeed shrugged at some point during my inner monologue exposing just a little more than the first unintentional wardrobe malfunction.
“Please Peyton, go into the lounge room because if you don’t, then when I stand up in about five seconds, you are going to see that my cock is stiff as fuck and I don’t think either of us are ready for what happens if you accidentally point those pretty eyes of yours at my crotch.”
“Oh,” I gulped, willing myself not to look because I really, really wanted him to stand up now so I could look. I mean, it’s not as if I haven’t been aware that Rafe sometimes gets hard when we are watching TV together. Especially when my feet are in his lap, and he is rubbing them absently while engrossed in a movie. One time I even slid my foot across the huge bulge just because the wanton whore inside me wanted to know how hard he was, very hard I discovered.
“Yeah, so if you don’t mind—” he looked down at his lap and made a motion to get up, which of course got me moving and bolting for the lounge, a strangled gasp wrenching from my lips.
Dear God, act your age Peyton. You have seen a hard dick behind pants before, you have had sex before, remember! Giving myself a mental talking to, I picked up the remote and turned on the television, drowning out the rumbled laughter coming from the kitchen.
Trying to concentrate on the menu of movies in front of me, my mood quickly soured from playful only minutes ago to nerves and trepidation. Rafe and I were friends first and foremost, what happened in the kitchen where he stared at me with heated eyes was beside the point. I kept something very important from him and that was not sitting well with me. The last six months we had really connected, shared so much of our lives. I accepted that he was obviously harbouring something secret too, but in no way could it be worse than having a baby son at eighteen and losing him only months later. A lie of omission was still that … a lie.
“Okay Bunny, what is going on inside that pretty head of yours?” Rafe asked, startling me enough that I let out a scream.
“Jesus Rafe, make some noise, will ya,” I huffed, holding my hands to my rapidly beating chest. How did he manage to do this on a regular basis? No wonder Justin got to Addy and me so easily. I really had to start being more aware of my surroundings.
“My job remember, baby? Okay, so start talking. When I came home, I could tell you were upset. Your face was all blotchy and your eyes puffy, I’m guessing and I hope incorrectly, that you spent a great deal of the day crying.” Rafe moved from his position at the entry of the lounge from the kitchen and made his way slowly to me.
“I don’t like knowing you have been upset and I wasn’t here to make it better, Bunny.”
“Why do you call me Bunny?” I blurted out rather randomly. It was a question I also wanted to ask him, as well as others, such as why he called me pretty all the time and all the other endearments I have come to crave and expect.
Rafe gawked at me for a brief moment, his eyebrows furrowing at the sudden turn in the conversation.
“Um, there is no hidden reason, it’s because of your hair. You change it often but always pastel colours like the pink you have now. Kind of reminds me of an easter egg, and not because you are a vet nurse.”
“Fair enough,” I laughed. Only Rafe would be so honest with me like that. He could have made up something silly and romantic, but as always, Rafe went with the truth. Though, thinking about it, I couldn’t see anything romantic he could come up with about the pet name Bunny.
Motioning for him to sit, I followed him down on the two-seater couch, perching myself on the edge while Rafe sat back and kicked out his legs in front of him, his hands going to the back of his head in a very relaxed posture.
“You’re tense, Peyton. Don’t you know by now you can tell me anything?”
“So can you,” I countered, cleverly reminding him without outright saying that this was our talk and not just mine. If he wanted me to open up and let him in completely then he was going to have to do the same. Whatever this chemistry between us meant, it was wasted without total honesty.
“There isn’t much about me you don’t know Bunny, other than the things I am not allowed to talk about concerning my job.”
“I don’t know where you go when you leave Ballarat when you get back from deployment.” And it was out. Somewhat rudely and without an ounce of finesse but out just the same.
Rafe visibly tensed, it was quick and he recovered even faster, but I saw it. One leg was pulled back and lifted to rest on the other knee. Causal.
“I go visit a friend who is in a hospice care facility. I made a … commitment a long time ago to visit and I take that promise very seriously.”
“Hospice? Oh, does he have cancer?”
Did his jaw just tic?
“No, coma. It’s not something that will ever change, but I still go and talk to … my friend. It is something their family believes could help, and while the medical staff there don’t agree, I only go to appease them.”
My chest ached suddenly with empathy for Rafe. His voice was full of despair for his friend, but I also caught something final in his friend’s condition.
“Is there any hope—”
“None. Keeping the machines on is just prolonging their pain and putting off the grieving process. I can’t get through to them, and fuck knows, I have tried,” Rafe exploded unexpectedly, surprising and worrying me. Rafe never lost his cool, and if he had, I was never there to see it happen. Getting to his feet, he paced in front of the TV like a caged animal. Tension rolled off him, and I had no clue how to respond or help him.