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.