Текст книги "Easy Charm"

Автор книги: Kristen Proby

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

“Next time,” I whisper. “Just fuck me, Rhys.”

He growls and picks up the pace, pushing harder, just a little faster. His hands cover mine, holding on tightly to the bed. Suddenly, he pulls out of me, gently guides my hands away from the iron rungs, and turns me over. He’s sweating, panting, and the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

Rather than lie back and let him have his way, I take him in my mouth, tasting him and me.

“Holy fuck,” he growls. “Gabrielle.” His hands are immediately in my hair, as if he’s torn between making me stop and encouraging me to continue.

So, I just keep going until every drop of me is licked off of him.

“I thought I should clean you off,” I say with a sassy smile as I lie back on the bed and open my legs, then crook my finger at him, inviting him to join me.

“You surprise the shit out of me,” he says as he kisses my belly, and then each of my breasts, teasing the nipples with his nose and tongue. The change in pace is fun, going from wild and urgent to lazy and playful.

He slips back inside me and covers me once more, his arms braced on either side of my head, hands in my hair, mouth just inches from my own.

“Every time I slip inside you is like the first time,” he murmurs. “It’s so fucking amazing.”

“Mmm,” I agree and close my eyes as he moves in long, slow strokes. “You fit me perfectly.”

He kisses me softly. “I can taste you on your lips.”

I grin.

“It’s damn sexy.”

“That was fun. I’ve never done that before.”

His eyes flair. “I want you to have lots of firsts with me, baby.”

“There have already been quite a few.”

My hands trail down his back to his ass. God, I love his ass. I pull him even closer to me and we both gasp. “You have a great ass.”

“Ass girl, are you?”

“I’m pretty much a fan of every part of your body.”

He pauses and kisses the corner of my mouth. “I can’t get enough of you.”

“I’m right here.” I clench down on him and watch his eyes dilate. “Like that, do you?”

“God, you’re going to kill me.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“I’m concerned that you can string sentences together,” he says matter-of-factly. “I think that means that I’m not doing my job.”

“Oh, you’re doing it.” I catch my breath and bite my lip when he slips a hand between us and presses his thumb to my clit. “Oh yeah, definitely doing it.”

He nibbles down my jaw to my neck while still pressing to my clit, moving just a little faster in and out of me, and now I can’t even remember my name.

God, he makes me come undone.

Every. Time.

“Lost your words?”

“Fuck.”

“That’s a good one.” He chuckles and grinds into me, pushing his pubis against his thumb and that’s all it takes. I fall right over into oblivion.

He follows me over, then collapses on the bed next to me, breath heaving, sweating.

Sexy as ever.

“Why is this so easy with you?” I ask, staring at the ceiling, waiting for my heart to return to normal.

“Maybe I just know what I’m doing?” he replies sarcastically.

“Well, you do, yes.” I chuckle and turn on my side, facing him. “But I’m comfortable with you. It’s amazing, but it’s also just…easy.”

“Because we trust each other,” he replies and gently runs his fingertip down the bridge of my nose. “I feel like I’ve known you a long time. This might sound silly, but I feel like your heart and my heart are very old friends.”

I blink at him as my heart swoons. But he’s exactly right. I trust him. I feel like I’ve known him forever.

This feels like…home.

Chapter Eleven

~Gabby~

“Mom! Mom!” Sam jumps out of my mom’s car and runs right for me, smiling and happy to be home. His face is a little darker from all the sunshine he’s been soaking up in Florida.

And nothing ever looked so good in my life.

“Hey, sweet boy.” I swoop him up in a big hug, holding him extra close, kissing his head and breathing him in. “Oh my goodness, I missed you.”

“I was only gone for eight days,” he says with a giggle, but he doesn’t pull away quite yet.

“It was a long eight days. Entirely too quiet. And you’re my baby. I missed you.”

“I’m not a baby,” he whispers. “But if it makes you feel better to hug me a really long time, I guess it’s okay.”

“Thank you so much,” I say sarcastically, then pull back and take a look at him. “You had fun?”

He nods enthusiastically. “It was a lot of fun! But I think Nannan is ready for me to be home.” He leans in and whispers in my ear. “I’m a handful.”

I kiss his cheek, laughing, as I stand and smile at my mom. “Yes, you are. Hi, Mama.”

“Hello, dawlin’.” I pull Sam’s suitcase out of the trunk and hug my petite mother. “Sam is the apple of my eye, and I couldn’t love him more.”

“But I’m a handful,” Sam announces proudly. He’s leaning against my side, his arm around my waist. He’ll be extra clingy tonight at bedtime, and this is one time that I don’t mind in the least.

“That you are, sweetheart,” I reply. “Was he okay?”

“Oh, he’s an angel,” she says and I scoff. “He really is very good. Those kids just have so much energy! I need a nap.” She hugs Sam and then me. “You look beautiful, sweet girl.”

“Thank you, Mama.”

“Thank you for taking me, Nannan,” Sam says with a smile.

“You’re welcome, child. I need to rest up for next year.” She waves and drives away.

“I have something for you,” I tell Sam as we walk up the steps of the front porch.

“You do? Where?” He starts searching my pockets, but I hold his hands away, laughing.

“Not on me. Here.” I pass the bag that Neil left for him and watch him dig in, then look up at me with wide eyes.

“Wow! All this stuff is signed!”

“Yep. Neil came down to visit Rhys, and he left this stuff for you.”

“Oh, man! I miss all the good stuff!” His shoulders slump and he pouts for just a moment, but then he pulls the jersey over his head and grins. It hangs down to his knees, but he doesn’t care in the least.

“Lookin’ good.”

“Where’s Rhys?”

“Right here.” The man in question walks up the porch stairs and pats Sam’s back as my son hugs Rhys around the waist. “Hey, buddy.”

“I’m so happy that you’re still here!”

Suddenly, my phone rings in my pocket. The caller ID says Unknown Number, but I answer anyway. “Hello?”

Nothing.

“Hello?” I say again with a frown, but the line clicks and the call ends. Huh. Must have been a wrong number.

“No one there?” Rhys asks.

“Nope. Probably a telemarketer.” I shrug and pocket the phone.

“Mom, can I go play catch with Mr. Rhys?”

“Why don’t you join us?” Rhys adds with a grin.

“Moms don’t play catch,” Sam says with a frown. “She’s a girl.”

“Hey, now.” I prop my hands on my hips and narrow my eyes on my son. “Girls can definitely play catch. I do it with you all the time.”

Sam grins. “Prove it.”

“And the gauntlet has been thrown!” Rhys claps his hands. “Do you have another mitt, Sam?”

“Sure!” He runs inside to gather the mitts and balls.

“He loves you so much,” Rhys says, surprising me.

“I love him back,” I reply.

“I know.”

“I found them!” Sam comes running back outside, down the steps, and into the front yard. “Come on!”

We each put a mitt on, and Sam starts by tossing the ball to Rhys, who then throws the ball to me. I easily catch it.

“Wow, Mom, good catch!” Sam laughs and spins in a circle.

“Pay attention. It’s coming for you.” I throw the ball to Sam, and he catches it.

“Nice arm,” Rhys says.

“Don’t sound so surprised. I had three older brothers, you know.”

Sam throws the ball back to me.

“Show me what you’ve got,” Rhys says and backs farther away from me, then holds his hand up, ready to catch what I throw him.

So I do.

I throw it just like Beau showed me when I was kid, and the ball lands in Rhys’s glove. I hold my glove up. “Don’t be easy on me.”

“I will hurt you, sugar. I’ve been clocked at one hundred miles an hour.”

“Don’t throw me a fast ball,” I reply with a roll of my eyes. “I’m not Neil. But I’m not a wimp.”

I punch my fist into my mitt and spread my legs, ready for whatever he throws at me.

He watches me for a minute, his eyes full of humor, and not a little bit of lust, and finally he smiles at me in that way that makes my stomach clench. He winds up, as if he’s at the mound, and throws the ball right into my mitt.

It stings the hell out of my hand, but I’ll be damned if I’ll say so.

“Nice catch.”

“Nice throw.”

Rhys smirks at my compliment as Sam jumps up and down.

“Throw it to me!” I oblige Sam just as two cars pull into the driveway.

“Okay guys, looks like it’s time for me to work. You play.”

“Hold on.” Rhys holds a finger up for Sam to wait a second to throw the ball and jogs over to me. He leans in to whisper in my ear. “You throwing that ball the way you just did was hot.”

“I have all kinds of hidden talents you don’t know about yet.”

He smiles widely and kisses my cheek, then backs away. “So noted.”

***

All of the guests have checked in, settled their things, and have set off again on adventures. Food is prepared for both tonight’s wine hour and breakfast for tomorrow.

I’m officially caught up.

So I set off in search of the boys. I saw them walk around the house earlier toward the barn.

As I approach the barn, I can hear music playing and my son giggling.

“Twenty-nine! Thirty! Thirty-one!” Sam is counting loudly, almost gleefully. I step inside and stop short when I see Rhys executing perfect push-ups with my son sitting on his shoulders, smiling as if he were on a ride at Disney. “Hi, Mom! Mr. Rhys needed more weight!”

“I see.”

“Oh good, you’re here.” Rhys stops and smiles up at me. “Hey, Sam, hop off. I need more weight than you. Let’s give your mom a turn.”

“It’s really fun, Mom.” He climbs off and waits expectedly for me to climb on.

“You’re serious.”

“Yep.” Rhys grins. “Climb on.”

I raise a brow, my mind immediately taking a dive into the gutter, and Rhys’s smile widens, clearly reading my thoughts.

“You want me to sit on your shoulders?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I need more weight.”

I look between both of these handsome men, then shrug and sit Indian-style on Rhys’s shoulders. He pushes up, surprising me, making me yelp.

“How’s your balance?” he asks, as if he’s not lifting a whole separate person as he does push-ups.

“Off,” I reply with a giggle and hold my hand out for Sam, who immediately takes it and walks around to stand at Rhys’s head. “That’s better. My boy saved me.”

Sam smiles widely, missing half of his teeth. I decide to make this a game. Each time Rhys pushes up, I kiss Sam’s cheek, making him giggle.

“How many kisses can I give Sam, Rhys?”

“How many do you want to give him?”

Smack.

“Lots and lots.” I kiss Sam’s other cheek, making him giggle. He doesn’t often let me kiss him anymore, but this is a fun game.

I’m going to take advantage of it.

“How many is that?” Rhys asks as I kiss Sam loudly.

“Ten!” Sam exclaims.

“Oh, we can do better than that,” Rhys says. After twenty-five kisses, Rhys collapses, finally breathing heavily.

“Are we done?” I ask.

“For now.”

I climb off and Rhys stands, but before I can turn and walk out, he takes my hand and leads me to a bench, making me straddle it on one end.

“Sam, I have a question,” Rhys begins, holding my gaze in his.

“Okay,” Sam says.

“Would you mind if I kissed your mom?”

I feel my eyes grow wide and I start to shake my head, but Sam makes a gagging noise.

“Why?”

“Because,” Rhys replies with a chuckle, “I think she’s pretty, and I want to play another exercise game.”

“Oh.” Sam seems to think it over, and then shrugs. “Okay. If you want to.”

“Gee, thanks.” My tone is dry, but I’m smiling at both of them. Rhys straddles the bench, facing me. God, he’s beautiful. He’s only wearing a black tank and shorts. He’s sweaty. A little dirty.

And I want to strip him bare and climb him.

Instead, I wait for him to give me instructions.

“I’m going to do sit-ups,” he says and gently glides his knuckles down my cheek, making me soften and go all gooey inside.

Sweet baseball player.

“Every time I come up, I get a kiss.”

“How many sit-ups do you plan to do?” Sam asks curiously.

“About a hundred.”

“Ew. I’m gonna go throw my ball at the tree.” He runs out, clearly disgusted at the thought of Rhys kissing me one hundred times.

I’m not disgusted by it in the least.

But instead of lying back to begin, he leans forward and touches his lips to mine. “You look happy.”

“I am happy. Sam’s home. I know he can be a lot of work, but he’s the best part of my life, and I missed him.”

“I missed him too,” he admits softly. “And I don’t think he’s a lot to handle. I think he’s a kid who has a lot of energy and he’s intelligent, so he has a lot to say. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Yeah, he gets the talking a lot from me.”

“He has so much of you in him. He’s amazing.”

I blink at him, stunned. I know that Sam is lovable. I’m proud to be raising such a great kid. But to hear Rhys say such kind things about my son touches me in a whole new way.

Because Sam is my world. If someone wants to be with me, I’m a package deal.

“I’m glad you like him. He likes you, very much.”

Rhys kisses me again, then lies back on the bench, ready to get down to business. “Okay, enough slacking.”

He begins to easily execute the sit-ups, kissing me with each one.

“This is the best workout I’ve ever participated in,” I tell him as I watch his body flex. Good God, he makes me crazy. I even like the stubble on his face. “I’m getting all kinds of affection today.”

“Why do I get the feeling,” he says, but pauses to kiss me, “that you don’t get nearly enough affection in your life?”

Because I don’t.

“I’m not complaining,” I reply.

“I didn’t say you were.” Kiss. “But you should—” Kiss.“—get kisses all the time.”

“My seven-year-old isn’t very hip on kisses these days.” He sits up, kiss me, and rests, panting just a bit. “How do you exercise so hard, and you’re barely out of breath?”

He shrugs and takes a sip of the water bottle that was sitting by his feet. “I’ve been doing it a long time.”

“I’d want to die by now.”

“No you wouldn’t. You’re a tiny thing.”

“I’m petite, but that doesn’t mean I’m in shape, it just means my mom passed on good genetics.”

“True enough.” He lies back and begins another long set of sit-ups, kissing me with each one. I really should go inside in case any of the guests come back and need something, but this is so…fun. “Okay. One more round of push-ups.”

He assumes the position on the mat on the floor.

“Instead of sitting on my shoulders, you can lie on me. It’ll be easier for your balance.”

“I think you just want me to lie on you.”

He flashes me a smile. “Guilty.”

I climb on him, face down, and wrap my arms around his torso, cross my ankles so my feet don’t get in his way, and lay my cheek between his shoulder blades, enjoying the ride as he effortlessly and quickly executes fifty push-ups.

I’m actually disappointed when it’s time to climb off of him.

“I almost fell asleep.”

“I’m glad one of us did,” he says, breathing heavily. “I’m done for the day.”

“How is your shoulder feeling?”

“Good.” He rolls his shoulder, rubbing it with his opposite hand. “There’s no more ache.”

“That’s great.”

Does that mean you’ll leave soon?

I should ask the question, but I don’t want to know the answer. Not yet.

“You okay?” He tips my chin up gently and searches my face.

“I’m great.” I offer him a smile and turn my face into his hand, kiss his palm, and then pull away. “I should just go in and get a little work done.”

“Need any help?”

The best part about this man? Aside from the smoking hot body and the sex? He’s sincere. He’s a millionaire, but helping me with menial household tasks is a no-brainer for him, just like it is for my family, and that is very, very attractive to me.

Maybe too attractive, because I could get used to it. And that’s not good.

“I’ve got it handled. I also need to take a trip to the grocery to pick up a couple things. Do you mind keeping an eye on Sam?”

“We could all go.”

I shake my head. No, I need a break from all the testosterone flying around here.

“It’ll be really quick. I just need a couple things.”

He tips his head to the side, watching me carefully, but then he just kisses my forehead and nods. “No problem.”

***

“Mom, I’m bored.”

I roll my eyes and continue chopping celery for the tuna salad. “Baseball camp starts on Monday.”

“That’s, like, four days away. What am I supposed to do for four days?”

“Read? Ride your bike? Clean that pit you call a bedroom?”

“None of that is fun.” He lowers his head to his arms, sulking at the breakfast bar.

“I don’t think that’s true. Besides, Uncle Beau will be around over the weekend and you can pester him, I’m sure.”

“Yeah. Maybe we can build a birdhouse or something.”

“That would be cool.”

“Maybe Mr. Rhys can help.”

“I’m sure he’d enjoy that.”

Sam nods. “But that’s still days away.”

“Two days.” I load the bread up with tuna salad and pass Sam his lunch. “And guess what?”

“What?”

“Your puppy is coming home on Tuesday, after baseball camp is over.”

“Really?” He squeals, all smiles. “He’s coming home?”

“He is.” I nod and ruffle his hair. “So, you’ll have plenty to keep you busy in just a couple of days.”

“We need to get him food bowls and blankets and toys.”

“And a bed.”

“No, he’s going to sleep with me.”

“He can sleep in your room, but he’ll have his own bed.” Sam frowns at me, and it’s like looking in a mirror when I’m being stubborn.

It takes everything in me not to laugh.

“I mean it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Why do you look like someone just took your birthday away?” Rhys asks as he saunters into the room. He eyes the tuna salad, then me, as if he’d like to devour both of us.

He must be hungry.

I immediately make a sandwich and set it before him.

“Mom won’t let the puppy sleep in my bed with me. She’s going to make him sleep way down on the floor!”

“Dogs are supposed to sleep on the floor,” Rhys says reasonably and bites into his sandwich. “They aren’t people.”

“But he’s a baby. He might get scared.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” I say sternly, giving Sam the look that says that this conversation is over.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I just got a call from Chicago,” Rhys says, watching my face, and my stomach clenches.

This is it. He’s leaving.

God, I don’t want him to go.

“The team wants me to come up for a checkup with their doctor and therapist, and I need to have a meeting with the coaching staff. I’m flying out on Tuesday.”

“Are you leaving forever?” Sam asks with wide eyes, voicing exactly what I’m thinking, and it breaks my heart that he’s clearly become just as attached to Rhys as I have.

And I don’t know what to do about it.

“No, buddy, just overnight.”

“Oh, good!” Sam goes back to his lunch.

Oh, good.

“You should come with me.” Rhys’s eyes are still pinned to mine, watching me closely. “I’d love to show you Chicago.”

“I can’t.” I shake my head and turn away, cleaning the kitchen.

“Think about it.”

“Let’s go, Mom!”

“I can’t,” I repeat. “I have a business to run, Rhys. I can’t leave on such short notice. And Sam starts baseball camp that day.” He looks disappointed, so I soften my tone and reach over to cover his hand with mine. “Thank you for inviting us. Really. But I can’t get away.”

He turns his hand over and grips mine tightly. “I know. I just thought it would be fun.”

“It would be fun,” Sam grumbles.

“You’re grouchy today,” I say to him and spoon some fruit onto his plate.

“You’re mean today,” he replies. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Samuel Beauregard Boudreaux, I love you, but you are on my very last nerve today. Please adjust your sails.”

He sulks some more. “Can I just go read in my room?”

“I would be thrilled if you did that.”

He skulks away to his bedroom.

“What’s wrong?” Rhys asks.

“He’s bored.”

“No, what’s wrong with you?”

I frown and keep my gaze pinned to the countertop as I wipe it down. You’re leaving soon, and I’m falling in love with you, and my child loves you, and I need to work harder at keeping a distance from you.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.” He circles the island and cups my face in his hands, searching my gaze.

God, his eyes are potent.

Dumb eyes.

“You’ve never lied to me before.”

“Or so you think.”

His nostrils flare in annoyance. I think this is the first time he’s been angry with me.

And I don’t like it.

“Nothing’s wrong, Rhys. My mood is probably reflecting Sam’s. Maybe I just need to adjust my own sails.”

He pulls me into a tight hug, tucking my face against his chest, right over his heart, and the sound of his heartbeat makes me want to cry.

And why that is, I have no idea.

Except he’s leaving. And even if it is just for one night, there will come a day in the not-too-distant future that he’ll be leaving for good.

And that hurts.