Wild Side (Rose Hill #3)

36. Tabitha

CHAPTER 36

TABITHA

The energy between us is… weird. Like we don’t know how to act around each other with all the bullshit stripped away. It’s a mix of shocked, affectionate, sad, awkward, and horny. All made worse by the fact that Rhys is always so in his head that I can’t tell what he’s thinking. All I know is that he seems very introspective.

It’s as though we got married and knew fuck all about each other.

I smother a smile as I stare down at my empty bowl. Maybe it’s just quiet between us because it was hard for Rhys to speak as he shoveled carbonara into his mouth.

“You know what I think we should do?”

His head snaps up from scraping his fork along the bottom of the bowl to get any last remnants of the sauce. Sometimes watching him eat makes me happy, and sometimes it makes my heart hurt. Imagining him hungry and alone kills me.

I tip my chin at him. “I can make you more, you know.”

He leans back, giving me a sheepish grin as though I’ve busted him licking the plate. “What do you think we should do?”

“Go to yoga. I was planning to go to Gwen’s class today.”

His arms cross and he regards me. “Together?”

I bristle, sitting up taller. “You can pretend you don’t know me when we get there if you want. It’s not like we need to link fingers during downward dog or someth?—”

“Tabby, that’s not what I meant. I just didn’t know if you wanted to be alone and were only inviting me because I showed up unannounced.”

I cross my arms, mimicking his position, and scrunch my nose as I stare back at him. Be alone . The way I practically recoiled at the words catches me off guard.

I usually enjoy being alone. I’ve never been the girl who does everything with her boyfriend. Typically, I’ve always felt a separation of “mine” and “yours,” so it hits me hard, as I sit here staring back at my big, burly husband, that I don’t feel that way with Rhys.

And I don’t think it’s the wedding ring that sits warm and heavy on my ring finger. It’s him .

For the first time in my life, I don’t want to do a single thing without him there with me.

“I don’t want to be alone,” I tell him simply.

He blinks more than once and swallows, as though digesting the sentiment. Then he gives the firm dip of his chin that makes me smile.

My man of few words and many feelings.

A quick glance at my watch tells me we have limited time to get out the door. “Meet you back here in thirty?” I ask, pushing to stand.

“Done.”

I expect him to go change or clean up or whatever he needs to do, but he lingers and silently helps me tidy the kitchen.

I bite my lip when his hand trails over my lower back as he passes to the sink. I swallow a moan when his hand presses against my hip to move me out of striking distance of the dishwasher door. And I find myself obsessing over his nearness and what it all means—where it all goes.

It’s like we’ve had the rug pulled out from under us and are both surprised that we like the floor beneath. Or maybe that’s just me. The girl who feels sad watching Rhys retreat to the basement to change rather than up to the room where I stay.

Thirty minutes later, we are out the door and walking down the street side by side. I’m in a puffer coat with a yoga mat slung over my shoulder, wishing I’d focused more on bundling up instead of Rhys and his massive dick and even more massive heart.

I blow into cupped hands and rub them together to chase the chill away, only to hear an exasperated grunt from beside me. Rhys’s big hand clasps mine.

“Put the other one in your pocket,” he grumbles, checking both ways before leading me across the street with hearts in my eyes.

I clear my throat and try to unjumble my orgasm-riddled brain. “Do you do a lot of yoga?” I ask blandly.

He shrugs. “Yeah. In conjunction with everything else. Keeps me limber. I like what it does for my brain too.”

“So you can do your crazy flips and maintain some semblance of inner peace?”

“Basically. Therapist said it’d be good for me, and he wasn’t wrong.”

“Wait. You have a therapist?”

A nod.

“Good.”

He barks out a laugh and scrubs his free hand over his face.

“I didn’t mean?—”

“You crack me up. Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to say the things in my head so freely, without agonizing over every word or second-guessing every sentiment before I say it.”

I smile. At least he’s self-aware enough to know he’s like that. “Well, I can tell you that sometimes saying the first thing to pop into your head backfires spectacularly.”

We walk into the yoga studio holding hands, and neither of us pulls away. When Gwen sees us, her eyes light up, and she clasps her hands to her full chest. She looks genuinely thrilled to see us.

She’s like… painfully bright and happy sometimes. It makes me wonder what that must be like. As a woman of many constantly changing moods, she seems like some sort of unicorn.

“Ah, look at you two! You’ve got that newlywed glow. The sacral chakras are flowing. ”

My head tilts in question, and Rhys groans. I feel like I missed something, but his firm grip keeps pulling me toward the room at the back.

“What’s the sacral chakra?” I whisper-shout to his back.

“According to Gwen, it’s the energy center responsible for emotional well-being and sexuality. Apparently, mine was blocked.”

I snort as I toe off my boots. “Don’t say I never did anything nice for you.”

“What?” He reaches for my coat, lifting it to remove it from each of my arms as though I’m a child. But he does it without hesitation, without even asking. Then I watch him remove his and hang it beside mine. The simplicity of our coats hanging beside each other gives me the most smitten thrill.

“You’re welcome,” I say, for clarity.

Confusion rolls off him as he follows me into the sunny room. “For what?”

“Unblocking your sacral chakra.” I brush imaginary dirt off my shoulder as I glance back and wink at him.

He steps closer, his heat pressing into my back as he moves my ponytail from one side, draping it over my opposite shoulder and dropping his lips near my ear. “Careful teasing me like that, Tabby. I already admitted to being desperate. Means I’m not above dragging you out of here just to get back into that pretty little pussy.”

Fuck . A shiver races down my spine right as my teeth sink into my bottom lip. Suddenly I care a lot less about yoga, and a lot more about getting home.

Rhys doesn’t miss a beat, though. Instead, he slaps my ass soundly enough to draw looks from other people already at their mats.

I flush and head for an open spot, peeking at Rhys beside me as I lay my mat on the floor. His lips are upturned, and when he finally looks my way, he winks .

My jaw drops a bit, and I stare at him, slightly taken aback by his playfulness. A side of him I didn’t see coming.

Maybe that chakra shit is real, and I healed him with the magic of my pussy.

“Babe, you okay?” he asks, all innocent, pulling out those acting skills he hides away. “You’re staring .”

I huff out a laugh and shake my head, imagining all the ways I will get back at him for this Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde display here.

Gwen enters, and we begin, but I find my eyes wandering. His hands. His arms. The way his sweats hug his ass in warrior pose. He might as well be naked, because all I can see in my head is him fucking me in that mirror. The way his legs flexed and his throat bobbed.

As the class progresses, it becomes clear that I am not the only one staring at him. Rhys keeps his head down and stays focused, channeling his inner athlete.

I have the focus of a gnat. I keep watching the way everyone else’s eyes roam. The way the women in here—which is almost everyone—let their gazes linger a little too long. Or the way one woman makes eyes at the girlfriend beside her before discreetly tipping their heads in his direction.

Maybe it should make me jealous, but I find it… exciting? It taps into my competitive side. I take a secret satisfaction in knowing I’ve got what they want.

Sort of. Technically. Fuck. I don’t know. Rhys and I are married, but I don’t know where that leaves us.

Complicated. Rhys and I are complicated.

But that doesn’t stop me from committing to jumping his bones the second we get home.