Chapter 2
Two
Rhys Morgan is, and always has been, my walking wet dream. The star quarterback of the football team, with tan skin, dark hair, and muscles for days—but not overly muscled like the linebackers.
And if his father, Lawson, is any indication of how my boyfriend will look when he’s older, well, I’m going to be one lucky Mrs. Morgan someday.
But, over the last year, Rhys has developed an attitude that is really starting to get on my nerves.
“That was so uncalled for. Your dad didn’t need to see that,” I admonish as we join the other football players and cheerleaders enjoying the Morgan’s gigantic pool.
Graduation is right around the corner. With prom next weekend and the National Cheerleading Competition coming up, the beginning of the last summer before the rest of our lives is starting to look promising.
“Oh, please. Like Mom and Dad didn’t subject River and me to it all the time when we were younger.” His hand slides from my shoulder to my butt beneath the bathing suit skirt, pulling me flush against his front. “Besides, we’re adults now, babe. It’s not like they still think we’re virgins.”
His words have my skin prickling with embarrassment, even though there’s no one close enough to hear our conversation, and a sense of anger floods me at the mention of his mother.
Charlotte Morgan… is a bitch, to put it lightly.
No matter how many times I’ve tried to form a relationship with the coldhearted woman, she’s always hit me with backhanded compliments and, sometimes, just straight-up rudeness.
Plus, she cheated on Mr. Morgan. So, she’s obviously deranged.
I’ll never forget that night when we were making out in the pool house, which doubled as a guest house for the nine months of the year the pool wasn’t in use.
His parents had stormed in—his dad screaming about how Charlotte had an affair with the pool boy when she was vacationing at their home in Boca Raton.
Mortified, I’d wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. But one look at Rhys’ face had me staying by his side to comfort him long after his parents left.
That was the night we finally lost our virginities to each other.
Rhys rocks into me as his devastatingly gorgeous smile makes my knees weak and my vagina flutter.
Can vaginas flutter?
Mine pulses in confirmation as my boyfriend leans over me to run his tongue beneath my ear—the spot he knows makes me wet if he so much as breathes on it.
“Maybe we won’t wait till everyone leaves.
” His voice is thick and gravelly before he sucks on my neck softly.
Everything from my belly button down turns to Jell-O, and he chuckles, nipping my lobe.
“Does that turn you on, Luce? The thought of everyone watching as you sit on a pool chair, and I lick your pussy till your juices are covering my face?”
Biting my lower lip, I try to disguise the moan that escapes my mouth with a sigh.
At only eighteen, Rhys has a way with dirty talk.
I don’t know if it stems from watching a lot of porn or if he’s just naturally talented, but fucking hell, he knows how to send my pulse racing and heat all the liquids in my body to a roaring boil.
The thought of someone watching as he does things to me makes my lower body clench. It’s like there’s a cord wrapped around my heart, and with every beat, it tugs upward on that sensitive bundle of nerves between my thighs.
Rhys and I have never done anything so kinky before, even though we once talked about having a foursome with two of our teammates. But by the end of that conversation, we decided we weren’t partial to sharing, just interested in being watched together.
And that’s part of why I love him and our relationship so much. We have unwavering trust in each other to make those decisions together and to always be honest about our wants and needs.
“Get a room, you two!” someone shouts behind us.
Rhys laughs and steps back. Grasping my chin, he lifts my face to meet his bright cerulean eyes. “Seriously, I’m going to feast on that pretty pussy the second the last person leaves. ”
After that searing promise, I hide in the pool the rest of the afternoon to hide the ever-present wet spot between my thighs.
Rhys’ hands wrap around my middle the second the front door closes behind the last of our teammates. “Come on. Let’s go to the pool house.”
His fingers drag across my stomach to dig into my sides. “Babe, you gotta lay off my dad’s cookies. Those things are pure sugar.”
The out-of-pocket statement jars me, and any hint of arousal I feel dissipates as I blink up at him. “Excuse me?”
The words hurt. I’ve never been as small as the flyers on the cheerleading team, so I’m the perfect main base.
I have curves, and I’m proud of my body.
I love the way I look. And Rhys has never uttered a single word about being unhappy with my appearance until now.
Usually, such cruel behavior is learned from the man of the household, but Lawson has never been anything other than kind to me.
“He’s right, Lucy. You want to fit into your prom dress, don’t you?
It’s already a little tight as it is, dear.
” Charlotte’s sardonic quip fills the space, echoing Rhys’ sentiments and cluing me into the fact that she’s the one his new attitude is coming from.
She doesn’t even look at us on her way to the dining room, nursing another glass of her usual chardonnay .
“CHARLOTTE!” Mr. Morgan’s—Lawson’s—incredulous voice rings out from the kitchen. Heavy footsteps sound from down the hall, and his angry face appears around the corner seconds later.
He’s all fire and brimstone as he grabs her arm and yanks her down the hall, not even sparing us a glance. Rhys’s hand grabs mine tightly, his breathing growing heavy as he stares at where his parents disappeared.
The nurturer side in me wants to comfort him, but the feminist side wants to demand why he’d say such a vile thing about my appearance.
I opt for silence.
The door opens and slams behind us, and I turn to see River, Rhys’ younger brother, kicking off his shoes. “Hey, Lucy!”
Pasting on a warm smile, I wave and open my arms for a hug. “Hey, kiddo. Just get back from Rose’s?”
“Yeah!” he exclaims cheerfully as he embraces me and ignores his older brother. “Her mom took us swimming in the pool in the garden on the roof!”
“That’s great, Riv! I love it there.” River is best friends with my little cousin, Rose. Well, she’s not really my cousin—our mothers are best friends and have been for years, so we consider ourselves family.
Rhys is still staring down the hall, where we can hear Lawson’s muffled—but clearly angry—voice as he yells at his wife, so I try to usher the younger Morgan toward his room. “Why don’t you get changed and washed up for dinner? Your dad made steaks.”
“And potatoes?” River cocks an eyebrow as he finally glances at his brother, who hasn’t eaten a potato since we were sixteen .
“ Parmesan potatoes.” I wink, letting out a small laugh as the kid whoops and bounds toward his bedroom.
When I turn back to Rhys, he finally looks at me, his blue eyes shaded with guilt. “I’m sorry,” he says, reaching for my hand again, having dropped it when River hugged me. “That was a dick thing to say.”
“Damn right, it was.” I pull him close, pushing up on my toes to kiss him chastely. “I forgive you. Don’t do it again.”
“Your mother isn’t feeling well, Rhys. Looks like it will just be us for dinner.
Did I hear River come home?” Lawson’s voice startles me as he appears out of thin air.
His stormy gray eyes are dark like a thundercloud—a hurricane force ready to unleash hell on his son when I go home for the evening.
Lawson has always reminded me a little of a storm, so intense when he’s at the height of his anger—and I’ve seen him get angry plenty of times on the sidelines at our football games—but he’s always devastatingly beautiful.
A force you find yourself drawn to and unable to look away from even though it has the power to kill you.
Rhys is attractive, but his father is painstakingly handsome.
That stormy gaze darts to me as I reply, “Yeah, I told him to get washed up and ready for dinner.”
He smiles, his head tipping forward slightly. “Thank you, Lucy. Why don’t you and Rhys set the table?”
A thrill runs through me at the command in his deep, husky timbre. Rhys clears his throat as Lawson returns to the kitchen, pulling my attention back to him, and his eyes hold a wariness I instantly know I don’t like. “What? ”
He watches me for a few silent moments, eyes sliding to where his dad disappeared before slowly moving back to me. He shakes his head, causing his dark hair to fall across his forehead. “Nothing. Come on. I’ll get the plates and glasses. You can take care of the silverware.”