Текст книги "Easy Charm"

Автор книги: Kristen Proby

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

Chapter Four

~Rhys~

She’s a mess of gorgeous chaos.

And the kicker is, you’d never fucking know it. But the struggle is there, behind her smile, in her eyes. I’ve learned her face, and I’ve known her just over a week. She’s beautiful, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to that, but it’s the whole package that has me tied in knots for the first time in… Jesus, I don’t remember. She’s funny, strong, kind. She’s stern with Sam, but loving and affectionate, too, and it’s obvious that the boy simply adores her.

But right now, she’s sad. And it makes my stomach clench.

“Mom, it’s going to be okay.” Sam smiles up at his mom as he slips his baseball cap on his head. “All of the guests are gone, so you won’t need me the rest of the day.”

“Silly boy,” she replies and crouches down next to him, her smile firmly in place. “I need you every day. Not just around here, but because I’ve grown attached to you.” She smacks a kiss on his cheek, making him cringe and look my way, worried that his manliness might be in trouble.

I’d give just about anything to have her lips on me.

I smile at Sam and shrug, as if to say, “Women. What can you do?” Sam rolls his eyes and hugs his mom.

“Nannan will be here soon,” Gabby says, but doesn’t let him go quite yet. “And you’re going to have so much fun.”

“I know,” he replies just as Gabby’s mom pulls into the driveway. Sam and Gabby walk out to the car, and I follow more slowly, staying on the porch as they say goodbye.

“Hello, dawlin’,” Mrs. Boudreaux says with a wide smile. “Are you ready for our adventure, Sam?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sam says with a grin then turns and waves at me. “Bye, Mr. Rhys!”

“Have fun,” I reply with a wave and a smile. Goodbyes are said, hugs exchanged, and finally, Sam and his grandmother are pulling out of the driveway. Gabby doesn’t move, watching them drive away, waving with a smile. When the car disappears around the corner, her hand falls at her side and her shoulders droop. She props her hands on her hips and looks to the ground.

Part of me is torn between letting her have her private moment and going to her, wrapping her in my arms, and holding on tight.

Then she kicks a rock, and she looks so damn sad I can’t stand it. I walk down the steps and up behind her, wrap my arms around her shoulders and kiss her head, breathing in the sweet smell of her hair. She’s such a small thing, fitting against me perfectly, tucked under my chin. She doesn’t say anything, simply holds onto my arms and sighs, then tips her head way back so she can look into my eyes, upside down.

I automatically kiss her forehead. “Only be gone a week.”

“Eight days,” she replies with a rough whisper.

“But who’s counting?” I murmur and kiss her smooth skin once more before she turns in my arms and hugs me tightly around the middle, the way she did in her kitchen when she felt sorry for me last night. But rather than wanting to comfort, she needs to be comforted.

I’ll gladly sign up for that job any day of the week.

“I feel guilty,” she whispers after a long minute of us standing in the hot Louisiana sun.

“Guilty?” I frown and take her hand, leading her to the shade of the porch, and her favorite swing. But rather than letting her sit beside me, I pull her into my lap and hold her tight.

“I’m not sick, you know,” she says with a smirk. But her eyes say thank you, and she leans against me, tucking herself under my chin.

“I know. Tell me why you feel guilty.”

She sighs. “I struggle with it every summer. I’ll miss him, of course. Every minute of every day. But at the same time, it’s so nice to have a few days of alone time. To have a week—” She swallows. “Without him. And that makes me feel like a shitty mom.”

“Everyone deserves a break, Gabby.” And if the piece of shit that fathered Sam had bothered to do his job, she wouldn’t be so overwhelmed with the task of parenting alone.

“I know.”

“It doesn’t make you a bad mom to enjoy that break.”

She simply shrugs, not convinced. I tip her chin up so I can see her eyes and it kills me to see tears welled in them.

“You’re an amazing mama,” I say softly before laying my lips gently against hers, enjoying the way a shiver runs through her. “He knows you love him.”

“I know that too.”

“Good. So, what are you going to do with your reprieve?” I push my fingers through her hair, unable to resist. God, her hair is soft and smells amazing. The way she leans into my touch is sweet.

She’s not touched often. She’s like a love-starved kitten, and I can’t wait to make her purr.

Because I’m going to have her in my bed, or hers, very soon.

“I have the inn,” she replies and frowns up at me.

“So, the only difference between last week and this week is, you won’t have Sam here?”

“Pretty much.”

Oh, sweetheart, we can do so much better than that.

“You don’t ever take a vacation?” I push her hair behind her ear and drag my fingertips down her cheek, loving the way her skin feels against mine.

She simply shakes her head, then sits up straight on my lap, bracing her hands on my shoulders so she can look at me.

“I have the inn, and I love it. I don’t need a vacation from it.”

Bullshit.

But I don’t say anything; I simply watch her.

“You don’t agree with me?”

“It doesn’t matter if I agree or not.” No, I don’t fucking agree.

“But you don’t.”

“Gabby,” I begin, then stop and frown. “Is your name short for Gabrielle?”

She blinks rapidly at the change of subject. “Yes, why?”

“Just curious. It doesn’t matter if I agree. If I disagree, will you take the week off?”

“I can’t.”

“Exactly.”

Finally, she scoots off my lap and runs her hands down her pretty white blouse and denim shorts, as though she’s smoothing wrinkles. “Thanks for the chat.”

I stand next to her and cage her against the railing of the porch. “Look at me.”

She raises her face to mine. Her eyes look almost gold today. They’re still a little sad, and I’m going to do my damnedest to change that, as soon as possible.

She catches her lower lip between her teeth and braces her hands on my forearms, and there’s that awareness, shooting between us again.

The chemistry is off the fucking charts.

I pluck her lip out of her teeth, and want with all of my soul to lean in and kiss her. My thumb brushes over the damp skin of her lip as I lean in and sweep my lips over her soft forehead.

“I have work,” she whispers, but doesn’t let go of me. “Sinceriously.”

“Sinceriously?” I chuckle and comb my fingers through the hair at the back of her neck.

“It’s a Sam word. He says it means he’s sincerely serious.”

“Ah.” I kiss her forehead once more, acutely aware, with every seven-odd-billion nerves in my body, of her pressed against me. “Then I guess you should get to it.”

She nods, her eyes closed, then snaps them open and ducks out of my arms. “Don’t you have something to do?”

“I’m sure I can find something.”

A cold shower might be a good place to start.

She nods and disappears inside, closing the door behind her. I walk down the steps and between the ancient oak trees, take a deep breath to calm my freaking libido, and dial Kate’s number.

“What’s up, handsome?”

“Question.”

“Answer.”

I grin at her response. “How difficult would it be to have someone come cover at the inn for Gabby once or twice this week? During the evening, so I can take her out on a couple dates.”

There’s a long pause, and then I can hear the smile in Kate’s voice as she says, “Are you sweet on Miss Gabby, cousin o’ mine?”

“I am,” I reply truthfully. There’s no bullshitting anyone about this. I’m not ashamed of it. “So can you help me or not?”

“I can help. I’ll make some calls. She has the rest of today off, you know. It’s Sunday.”

“I know, and I plan to do something fun with her, but she deserves a damn night off now and again.”

“I completely agree. I’ll make it happen. What nights do you want?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I reply. “Maybe one of the nights can be when Declan is playing.”

“Wow,” Kate says with a whistle. “You can be very sweet when you want to be.”

“Don’t let it get out,” I growl. “I don’t need batters thinking I won’t crush them at the plate.”

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

***

It’s late afternoon, and I’ve let Gabby be most of the day. It wasn’t easy. I want to march in that house, scoop her up, and carry her off to bed.

And at some point, in the not too distant future, I’m going to do just that. I can’t wait to watch her magnificent eyes go wide as I just reach down and lift her in my arms.

The thought of it brings a smile to my face.

Oh yeah, I’m gonna do that soon.

But for today, I think she needed some space. I could hear her music blaring in the house from the barn as I worked out and put my shoulder through a hell I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

At one point, the music stopped and I could hear her laugh through the open windows in the back of the house. Her laugh makes my skin tingle.

Jesus, I have it bad.

The music is off now as well as I come out of my room, fresh from a shower and ready to have my eyes on her.

I find her in her office, her phone tucked between her ear and shoulder, filing papers.

“I’m so glad you’re already having fun, buddy.”

She sees me and offers me a sweet smile as I lean my shoulder against the doorjamb, cross my arms over my chest, and listen unabashedly.

“Okay, go jump back in the pool. I’ll talk to you soon.” She ends the call and sets the phone on her desk. “He’s having fun.”

“Good.”

“What are you up to?”

I push away from the door and move to the desk, lean my hands on it, and stare her in the eyes, which widen. She bites that lip, and I’m suddenly on high alert, all over again.

“I want to take you somewhere,” I whisper.

“Where?” Her voice is soft, and a little shaky.

“Anywhere. Let’s just get in the car and drive, see where we end up.”

Her face lights up, and I know in this moment, I’ll keep doing anything she wants if I can keep that smile on her face.

“I haven’t taken a drive in…forever.”

“Let’s do it then.”

***

“Oh my God!” Gabby yells out with a laugh. “My hair is out of control!”

We are cruising down the highway, the top of my Camaro down, sending her hair flying all over the place. She reaches in her pocket and pulls out some kind of hair tie, then proceeds to twist those long, soft strands into a knot at the top of her head, bands it together, then grins at me. “Better.”

“Where will this road take us?” I ask.

“All the way to Mississippi,” she says, then flicks on the satellite radio, turns the station to current hits, and begins to sing along with Rihanna, about being the only girl in the world.

She’s the only girl in my world, that’s for damn sure.

She can’t sing worth a damn, and her dance moves in the leather seat are questionable.

But she sings and moves like she just doesn’t give a fuck, and that is the sexiest thing I’ve seen in a very long time.

We drive for miles, both of us singing along with the radio, Gabby dancing her ass off.

Laughing.

I glance over at her, and she looks young. Carefree.

Happy.

I take her hand in mine, kiss her knuckles, and rest them on the center console as she sings into the thumb of her free hand.

It’s Maroon 5 now.

The sun is sinking to our left, bathing everything in a pink and orange glow. It’s getting late.

“Oh! There’s an awesome restaurant up ahead,” Gabby says. “It’s been owned by the same family for four generations. Best food in the South.”

“Are you hungry?”

“I’m starving.”

“Done.”

I pull into the parking lot of a building that says Mama’s Place. It looks like it should have been condemned fifty years ago.

“I know it doesn’t look like much from the outside.”

“Is it safe in there?”

Gabby laughs and jumps out of the car. “Don’t be a wimp, O’Shaughnessy.”

I narrow my eyes as I join her and take her small hand in mine. “If the roof is collapsed at all, we’re leaving.”

She simply shakes her head and laughs as we enter the dilapidated building, but once inside, my eyes widen in surprise. It’s not only sound, it’s amazing.

And the smells coming from the kitchen have my stomach weeping with joy.

“Best food ever,” Gabby says with that sweet smile.

We’re shown to a table, and I can’t stop looking around long enough to glance at the menu. There are stuffed alligators on the walls, along with other animals, fishing poles, and signs that say, “Beware of Gators.”

When the waitress arrives, Gabby orders for both of us. “Trust me,” she says after the waitress gathers our menus and leaves.

“I do,” I reply honestly. She tips her head to the side.

“I don’t think you have trust issues.” She sips her sweet tea thoughtfully.

“Why is that?”

“Because I think that you just don’t take shit from people. Plus, you’re nice.”

I cringe. “Nice is the kiss of death with women.”

“Not this woman.” She shakes her head and pushes her straw through the ice. “Nice is a good thing.”

“How about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you trust easily?”

She frowns, her eyes still on her drink. “I trust my family. And Sam, of course, although he always tries to tell me that it wasn’t him who broke the window.”

I smirk. “You know what I mean.”

Gabby shrugs, not meeting my gaze.

“Look at me.”

“Why do you always make me look at you?” She frowns as though she’s irritated, and it only makes me smile wider.

“Because I love it when you look at me,” I reply softly. “And I want to see your eyes when you talk.”

“I don’t trust men easily. Well, at all really.”

“You can trust me.”

She starts to say something, then stops herself and takes a drink of her tea.

“What were you going to say?”

She frowns again and shakes her head, but I take her hand in mine. “Look at me. What were you going to say?”

She meets my gaze, straightens her shoulders—good girl—and firms her lips. “I was going to say that in my experience, men haven’t been exactly trustworthy.”

“Well, what if I told you that your assessment was wrong?”

“Bullshit.” She offers me a saccharine sweet smile, then sips her drink.

“I don’t trust easily either, Gabrielle.” Her eyes widen when I use her full name. “But I trust you. And you can trust me, too.”

“I know,” she whispers. “And it’s weird.”

“Weird?”

“Maybe new is a better word.”

“Nothing wrong with new,” I reply as our food is set before us. She stares at her plate for a long minute, then raises her gaze to mine.

“Don’t make me regret trusting you.”

I tilt my head, taking her in, her hair, her eyes, her mouth, neck, shoulders, then return my gaze to her eyes. “Never on purpose.”

She nods and we’re quiet as we eat our fried catfish. She only finishes half of her plate, so I eat what she can’t, then pay the bill and escort her outside, where night has fallen.

“It’s a bit cooler without the sun. Do you want me to put the top up?”

“No way.” She smiles and sits in the car after I open the door for her. “You’re quite chivalrous.”

“They’re called manners, sweetheart.” I wink, walk around the car to join her and pull out of the parking lot, headed back toward the inn. “There was a sign for a scenic outlook up here that I’d like to check out.”

“It’s a pretty spot,” she says and pats her flat belly. “I’m so full.”

“You barely ate anything.”

“I ate half my plate! And portions in the South aren’t small.”

“True.” I take her hand in mine again, kiss her knuckles, and this time rest our hands on my thigh.

“You have some pretty smooth moves, Mr. O’Shaughnessy.”

“Who, me?”

Gabby simply giggles, and to my surprise, pulls her hand out, then links her fingers with mine, still resting on my thigh. Aside from the hug in her kitchen, this is the first time she’s taken the initiative to touch me.

And I fucking love it.

I pull onto the road with the sign for the overlook, and we follow it for about a half a mile before coming to the top of a bluff that looks out over the Mississippi River. The sky is clear, with a full moon, and there is no light noise from the city, so the stars are stunning.

“Wow,” I whisper and kill the engine. “Pretty doesn’t really cover it.”

“No,” she agrees and leans her head on my shoulder, then pops back up. “Oops, that’s your bad shoulder.”

“Touch doesn’t hurt,” I reply and she returns to rest her head there, skims her fingertips up my hand and arm, and holds onto my bicep.

Since when does a woman touching my damn arm give me a hard-on?

Apparently, since now.

“So, this place has a history,” Gabby says and tips her face up to mine, not taking her cheek from my shoulder.

“Do tell.”

“Well, there’s a legend that goes with this place that has been told for a couple of generations, probably longer. It seems there was a young woman, about nineteen, who came here from France with her well-to-do family.” Gabby gently and absent-mindedly brushes her fingertips up and down the inside of my arm, sending goose bumps all over me as she tells her story. “She was lonely at first here, not knowing any English, and not having any friends. Her father had many slaves, as most of the plantation owners did. One of the slaves was a sweet boy about her age, and he helped her learn English. Of course, they had to meet in secret.”

“Of course,” I reply and kiss the top of her head, already knowing where this story is going.

“Well, of course they fell in love, but when her father found out, he was livid.” Gabby shakes her head, as though she’s talking about friends. “He sold the boy so his daughter couldn’t see him anymore, and she went a little crazy. Story goes that she would run away from the plantation, trying to find him. And one stormy night, she came here to these cliffs, and in the dark, she fell to her death.”

“That’s a very sad story.”

“Some say you can still hear her weeping.”

“Of course they do. It’s a tragic ghost story.”

Gabby chuckles, then turns her face into my shoulder, and presses a kiss there. “Does it still hurt a lot?”

“Only when I exercise.”

She kisses it again, then clears her throat. “There’s another story about this place.”

“Why do I think you’re about to share it?” She pushes her finger into my side, and I yelp dramatically.

“Because I want to know just what makes you think I’m that kind of woman?”

“What kind?”

She smirks. “The kind you bring to make-out point.”

I nudge her back so I can see her face and grin. “Is that what this is, sweetheart?”

She nods.

“Have you been here before?”

She shrugs one shoulder.

“Is that a yes?”

“In high school I came here once or twice. No one got past second base.”

“Good girl.”

Chapter Five

~Gabby~

Good girl.

Why do my insides quiver when he says that to me? Because seriously, those words come out of his sexier-than-should-be-legal lips, and my whole body does the happy dance.

Channel your inner flirt! She’s fun.

I pull my index finger down the inside of his muscular bicep and draw circles on the thin, smooth skin inside of his elbow. His breath catches, drawing my gaze up to his.

His green eyes shine in the moonlight, as if they’re on fire. His breathing has sped up. And I swear that through his shoulder I can feel his pulse speeding up too.

Talk about ego boost.

“Gabby,” he whispers, his eyes pinned to my lips. “I’m going to kiss you.”

“I hope so.” Did those words come from me? His mouth tips up in that half-smile as he scoops me right up out of the seat, pulls me over the console onto his lap with my feet sitting in the passenger seat. He cups my cheek in his palm, his thumb circling over the apple of my cheek as he nuzzles my nose with his, just the way he did last night.

I can feel the warmth of his skin, not quite touching me. His breath smells like the mint we ate after dinner.

And his eyes are dark, dark green and full of unadulterated lust.

His lips brush over mine in just a whisper of a kiss, once, then twice, before they settle at the side of my mouth and nibble, sending shivers through me.

His hand drifts down from my cheek to my neck, then over my blouse to cup my breast, and his lips settle over my mouth, firmly now.

Wet.

Needy.

Someone—me?—growls as the kiss deepens. He’s a taker, that’s for sure, but then he mixes it up, giving me more than I’ve ever had before.

And I’m no virgin. I’m a mother, for crying out loud!

But, oh, the way Rhys O’Shaughnessy makes me feel, it’s like no one has ever touched me before.

Because they haven’t. Not like this. Not like he’s drowning and I’m his first breath of air. Not like the thought of not touching me is pure torture.

He grunts as I shimmy in his lap. I can feel his excitement pressed to my right hip.

And I want to feel it. Right now.

As if he’s reading my mind, Rhys grips my hips and lifts me, helping me straddle him, and I press my center against him, making us both catch our breath.

“Jesus, you’re the sweetest fucking thing,” he growls against my lips. His hands are roaming up and down my back. I grip his face in my hands and kiss him. Deeply. Our tongues are stroking, lapping.

God, he tastes good.

He grips my ass in his hands and tugs me down more tightly against him, and I can’t help but circle my hips, enjoying the way the ridge in his jeans rubs against my center.

Holy crap, can I come like this?

Surely not.

“Surely not what?” Rhys whispers against my lips.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You said ‘surely not.’ Surely not what?”

I bite his lower lip as his hand takes a journey from my ass, up my side, to cup my breast. His thumb rubs over my tightened nipple, over and over again, making me squirm.

Everything this man does makes me squirm, and he’s technically still at second base!

“You’ve kind of got me all worked up,” I whisper.

“Back at you, baby.”

He presses a button at the side of the seat, tilting his seat back just a few inches, then grips my sides and lifts me so he can nuzzle between my breasts, and down to my belly.

Which sets me on edge.

Please, God, don’t lift my shirt and look at my disgusting stretch marks!

The scruff on his cheeks feels soft, yet prickly, on my skin.

“Why did you stiffen up?”

I shake my head and plunge my fingers in his hair, holding him close to me, loving the kisses he’s pressing to my chest, and the way he brushes his nose over my nipple.

Holy fuck, I’m turned on.

The next thing I know, Rhys is lifting me back over the console into my seat and righting his own. He’s breathing hard.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He swallows, then takes a deep breath. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Why did you stop?”

He turns to me now and kisses me, then pulls the seat belt over me and clicks it into place. “Because second base is as far as we can go here, and if I kept kissing you the way I was, you’d be naked and I’d be inside you right now.”

I feel my eyes go wide and my pulse speed up even more, if that’s even possible.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” He kisses me once more, then starts the car. I can’t help but cover my lips with my fingertips and giggle. “What’s funny?”

“This.”

His eyes narrow. “That’s not exactly the reaction I was looking for.”

“I can’t believe I’m making out like a teenager here.”

He smiles and brushes his knuckles down my cheek. I love how much he touches me. His touch is simply sinful.

Without another word, he pulls back out onto the highway and we drive the hour or so back to the inn in companionable silence. I’m tempted to lean over and give him a satisfying memory for later, but decide against it.

Hopefully, I can do that another time.

I’d love to taste him. To hear him, watch him, as I suck on him and work him over with my hands. I wonder how he likes it?

“What are you thinking over there?” he asks as he takes my hand and kisses my fingers.

“You don’t want to know,” I reply and turn my face to watch the darkness pass by.

“Oh, I definitely want to know.”

“I—” I bite my lip, and feel my cheeks heat.

“You… Hey, look at me.” I turn my face to see him smiling at me, in that special way he does, that I’ve learned is just for me. “What’s going on in that gorgeous head of yours?”

“I was thinking about, um, going down on you.” The last few words are said on a whisper, and I cover my eyes with my hand, completely mortified. Suddenly, the car stops.

Just stops.

He pulls my hand away from my face and grips my shoulders, turning me to face him.

“What did you just say?” His face registers shock, curiosity. Lust.

So much lust.

So I smile and reply, “I was thinking about going down on you. How you might like it.”

He pulls me to him for a long, deep, wet kiss, and then, against my still-damp lips, whispers, “Any way you give it to me is how I like it, baby. Now, no more sexy talk about your lips wrapped around my cock, okay? I don’t want to wreck this car.”

I grin against his mouth. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

***

The house is dark when we drive up, aside from the porch lights and the light I always leave on in the foyer. The oak trees look like huge grey ghosts in the yard, framing the white plantation house perfectly.

It’s a bit spooky at night, and I grew up here. I’ve felt things here. I’ve felt the sorrow of the slaves as I clean and stage the slave quarters so the guests can learn about that dark part of our history. I’ve felt joy in the rose gardens.

Doors have slammed when no one was there to slam them.

But this house is centuries old, and the Boudreaux family is known for being a passionate one. It’s no wonder that someone is still hanging out, just to keep an eye on things.

I often wonder if my father is one of those someones. I hope so.

Rhys stops the car and before he can even cut the engine, I climb out and onto the porch. Rhys follows me inside, his hands in his pockets, quiet as he watches me check the locks and the alarm system, then walks me quietly to my room.

My heart is heavy, knowing that Sam isn’t here to fight bedtime with me. And I can’t help but feel so fucking guilty that I enjoyed myself so much tonight with my son being gone.

I’m a hot mess.

“Hey,” Rhys says quietly as he turns me to him and scoops me up into one of his hugs, rocking me back and forth. “Are you okay?”

I nod, soaking in the warmth of him. I want to invite him in, but I’m not sure that I’m ready to take what happened in the car further.

And yet, I don’t want to be alone.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” I pull out of his arms and kiss his cheek. “I’m just a little sad that the house is so quiet without Sam, that’s all.”

His bight green eyes survey my face before nodding. He brushes his fingers down my cheek. “Okay. Good night.”

“Good night.”

He turns to walk away. I hold my breath for about two seconds, then burst out, “Rhys?”

“Yeah?” He turns back to me, concern on his handsome face.

“Um, nothing.” I shake my head and offer him a happy smile. “Never mind.”

But rather than nod and walk away, he saunters back to me, his gaze pinned to mine. Wordlessly, he gently pulls my hair out of its knot and lets it fall around my shoulders, combing it with his fingers.

“Would you stay with me until I fall asleep?” I whisper. He just smiles softly, kisses my forehead, and gestures for me to lead the way into my room.

I’ve never had a man in my bedroom. Never shared my bed with anyone.

Ever. In my life.

The room is dark as I lead the man that puts me on hyper-drive to the edge of my bed. And to my surprise, Rhys calmly unfastens my shorts and lets them drop off my hips to the floor. Then, with his eyes pinned to mine, he pulls my top over my head. He reaches for the tank I sleep in that’s laying at the end of my bed and tugs it over my head, pulls my hair through, and helps me into the bed. I watch with sleepy eyes as he pulls off his T-shirt, steps out of his jeans, and joins me, wearing nothing but snug black boxer-briefs.

And then, to my utter shock, he simply turns me away from him, curls up behind me, and whispers in my ear, “Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

“You don’t want to…?”

“For now, this is perfect. I’m just happy to share a pillow with you. Sleep.” He kisses my neck, and his deep, even breathing eventually lulls me to sleep.

***

I wake to hands and lips and heat.

“You’re still here.” My voice is heavy with sleep.

“I fell asleep too.” And his voice is just heavy with sexiness.

Dear sweet Jesus, how do people wake up like this every day? I’d never leave the bed!

Rhys is pressed up behind me, kissing my neck and shoulder. His hand is roaming down my side to my hip, then back up under my shirt over my skin, and every molecule in my body is now awake.

Wide awake.

“Mm, you feel so damn good,” he growls in my ear, his voice still heavy with sleep, and nothing has ever turned me on so quickly. “Do you have any idea how fucking soft your skin is?”

“Mm,” I moan, unable to form words.

Who in the name of all that’s holy can form words when Rhys O’Shaughnessy’s hands are all over them?

Not this girl.

I reach behind me and drag my fingernails up his thigh, over the fabric of his boxer-briefs, his thigh, to his belly, and he bites my earlobe.

“Careful, baby. I’ve been feeling your sexier-than-fuck body against me all night.”

I grin and don’t stop touching him. My panties are soaked. My nipples are hard nubs, rubbing roughly against the bra he didn’t take off of me last night.

I turn onto my back. Rhys’s face is still buried in my neck, kissing, licking, turning me the hell on.

Damn, this man is a master with his lips.

I love the way he feels. He’s not super hairy, with smooth arms and abs, and just a light dusting of hair on his chest that feels amazing under my fingertips.

“You feel good yourself,” I whisper and kiss his shoulder as my hand drifts farther south. I gently wrap my fingers around the length of his dick, over his underwear, then push my hand under the elastic waistband, cup him in my hand and brush my thumb over the tip, wiping away the moisture that’s already gathered there.

“Oh God,” he breathes against my shoulder, then kisses my jaw, my cheek, and finally my lips, cupping my face in his hand. I stroke him more firmly, but still slowly, watching his face as his breathing increases. Sweat forms on his brow. His eyes are closed.

“Look at me,” I whisper against his lips, turning his words back on him. He pins me in his bright green gaze, and I have to clench my own thighs together, shocked at how much making him crazy makes me crazy.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he says and kisses me, always watching me as he shifts his hips back and forth, working them down his hips and legs. “God, your hands are—”