Chapter 4
SEVERIN
I opened the door and let out a low whistle. It’d been two days since our awful first date, and I was so, so glad I’d set aside my pride and apologized for my shitty behavior.
“Holy shit. You are a big boy,” I said appreciatively, stepping aside to allow Rhys to walk into my living room.
“You’re no-not exactly little yourself,” he replied, pulling off his jacket. “Da—mn, it smells amazing in here.”
We’d chatted back and forth a bit more since our first exchange, and I’d been so charmed by his online presence that I may, just a tiny bit, have forgotten about his intimidating physical presence. His stutter, even in my bad robot ear, was far more endearing than I’d have guessed.
He’d mentioned that the stutter made more of an appearance when he was tired or nervous, and I just hoped this was the good kind of nervous.
“I seared the steak and put it in the oven to finish cooking. It’s a big sucker, so we have a few minutes.” I smiled and tried not to feel too proud of the way his chest rose so quickly. “Gotta say, as nice as you look, I’m missing the rugby shorts.”
His shoulders relaxed a bit and his laugh was a deep rumble. Bet if my fucking ears worked it’d be sensual as hell.
“Oh, I know it. I read your profile. I know exactly why you like rugby boys.” He winked, slapping his thighs. “You should see how many jeans I bust through in a year.”
I rolled my eyes back and clutched my chest. “You don’t have to sell me on your thighs. I’m sold.”
He grinned, shaking his head.
“What?”
He took a steady breath, and something about it felt measured. I’d looked up stuttering and knew that I shouldn’t try to finish his sentences for him. I’d also found out that a lot of stutterers used various breathing methods to allow the words to flow more freely.
He inhaled again, speaking on the exhale. “I mean… we did g—et to know each other a little better D—M’ing each other, but… you’re like an entirely di—fferent person,” he said. “In person, I mean.”
I’d read that elongating the sounds helped the person to maintain control, and it was interesting to see how effective it was.
“My audiologist had a new processor overnighted and installed it this morning,” I replied, “and it’s like night and day. I thought it was just me—”
“But you can hear and understand me okay?”
“I can, yes. I mean, everything still sounds a little demonic, but I’m catching deeper tones than I did before.” Grinning sarcastically, I continued, “The Sex Pistols are still ruined for me, though.”
He scrunched his nose empathetically. “I remember you mentioned being a fan of punk.”
His words were slower and still deliberate, but way more relaxed, which gave me a small hit of pride. While his stone-faced look on the rugby pitch was sexy as hell, with him here in my apartment, I couldn’t help but be reminded again of a golden retriever.
“True. I’ve seen the Misfits in concert way more often than I’d like to admit. I don’t mean this in a rude way, but I wanted to invite you to sit, but I think you might find it easier to speak while standing.”
“A—ctually, fluency is harder with standing than it is with si—tting in a supp—ortive seat,” he said, pointing to my leather club chair.
I angled the chair toward the couch and gestured for him to get comfortable. Then had to bite a knuckle when he did.
“Something wrong?”
I shook my head. “Nope. Just enjoying the thigh spread.”
He looked down at the fabric stretching across his massive muscles and grinned. “Sorry, Sev. Can’t be helped.”
He’d started calling me Sev in our DMs and I didn’t hate it.
I sat facing him, our knees touching. “I don’t know if it’s okay to say, but your stutter is not nearly as bad as you’d made it out to be.”
“Well, you di—dn’t hear me at Meadow & Vine. I was a mess.”
“Were you really that nervous?”
“I was a little nervous, but when I rounded the corner and saw how hot you were, I was a goner.”
“Am I not hot now?” I asked, gesturing at myself.
He laughed. “No, you’re still hot. Trust. But our first date was so bad it kinda burned out most of the nerves I might’ve had around you.”
“Ouch. And fair.”
There was a bit of an awkward silence until he took a deep breath and rubbed his thighs.
“I like your apartment. You have way better taste in decorating than Tyler does,” he said, gesturing to the framed and matted movie posters on the wall.
“I may have a small obsession with horror movies. And ferns.”
“I’m impressed you can keep something alive. I’ve killed more plants than I care to admit.”
I tsk’d. “Do I want to know who Tyler is?”
“My straight, supportive best friend and roommate. He thinks you’re hot, too, by the way.”
I laughed. “Good to know.”
“So, you still like cooking for people, even after a long day of cooking for other people?”
I grinned. “I’d be a really shitty chef if I didn’t.”
“Your hours must be so insane.”
“When I was first starting out, yes. I used to be a line cook for Sweetwater Café, and those hours were horrible. Now I work with my friend at his high-end restaurant, so I’m out by midnight most nights, not four o’clock in the morning.”
“Nice. Most of my days are spent working out, practicing, and eating.”
“Do you usually work out with your team?”
“Yep. The practice pitch has a nice facility and saves me from having to keep up with a gym membership.” He reached out and ran a finger up a vein on my arm. “You clearly work out.”
I shivered, loving that he was willing to put his hands on me. “Some of that is from making bread. But, uh, yeah. I like working out.”
Rhys made a show of gulping and pulling out his shirt. “You have your thighs—I have my Colin Farrell-slash-Sons of Anarchy fantasies.”
“Well, if you’re gonna stroke my ego…”
“I can stroke whatever you want me to,” he said, then flashed bright red. “So-sorry. Didn’t mean to be so forward.”
The timer in the kitchen went off, sparing him further embarrassment.
I rubbed his knee, then stood. “Maybe I like forward.”
His chest expanded rapidly and he looked up at me through his thick fringe of pale brown lashes, pure sex in his expressive blue eyes. I’d almost deleted the dating app in Meadow & Vine as he’d walked away, but that little voice inside my head had told me to not be so hasty.
The way he graciously accepted my apology and then flirted with me in our subsequent messages verified that I’d made the right decision. That had nothing, though, on the chemistry sparking between us in person.
Stepping into the kitchen, wishing I had his hands on me, I pulled the massive steak from the oven.
“Oh my god, that’s beautiful,” he said, coming up behind me, fitting his hands to my hips. “Look at the crust on that thing.”
I shivered, shifting my hips into his strong grip as I scooped the hot butter over the top. “I made some assumptions about how you liked your steak. Please tell me you’re not about to break my heart and demand well done.”
He rested his chin on my shoulder. “Absolutely not. I don’t like cold fat on well-marbled pieces, but other than that I like a juicy steak.”
“That’s what I was aiming for.” I nuzzled the side of his face with mine, loving how his enormous body enveloped me.
We stood there a few minutes, swaying as I unnecessarily spooned more butter onto the steak.
“I was just gonna keep it simple tonight. Steak and a salad,” I finally said, gesturing with my chin over at the bowl on the counter.
“Damn, that’s gorgeous. What do you have in it?”
I allowed myself a prideful smile. “Gorgonzola, dried cranberries, sunflower seeds, a spring mix, and my own balsamic vinaigrette recipe. Oh, and avocados. I haven’t put them in and can keep them out if you’d prefer.”
“I love avocados. I love everything you just mentioned, actually.”
I leaned back until my shoulders hit his broad chest, then let out a satisfied sigh. He shifted his arms across my torso and I allowed my head to fall back on his shoulder.
“You’re a fucking mountain, you know that?”
“Here’s hoping you like mountains,” he replied, his lips close to my ear.
“You read my profile. You know I do.”
“So, even though I don’t have your six pack,” he said, flattening his palm along my abs, “you’re okay with all of this?”
I angled my hips side to side, grazing his crotch. “More than okay. Entirely turned on by it, if I’m being honest.”
He stayed at my back while I plated the massive hunk of meat.
“I need to let it rest before I cut into it.”
“Mmhmm. And how long do you need to let it rest?”
“At least ten minutes, maybe a little more.”
Running his nose along the outer edge of my ear, he asked, “I wonder what we could get up to for ten minutes?”
Surprised by his boldness, I pushed us away from the counter and turned, gripping his massive arms.
“Rhys? Are you trying to seduce me?”
He kissed the tip of my nose. “I dunno—if I have to explain that I’m seducing you, maybe I’m not doing a very good job of it.”
I shook my head, stretching up to kiss his square. “Nah. You’re doing an excellent job of it.”
Turning his head, he brushed his lips along mine.
“That okay?”
“More than,” I said, going back for another kiss. Then another. Soon his arms tightened around me and we were exchanging soft, open-mouthed kisses. I’d certainly had hookups that’d gotten physical within thirty seconds of them walking in the door, but this was not that.
I don’t let a lot of people know this, but I’m a sucker for an affectionate man.
I know I look like the kind of guy who’d fuck somebody in a bathroom stall with nothing more than spit for lube—to be fair, I’m that guy, too—but deep down, I’m a sweet kisses in the streets, dirty fucking in the sheets kind of guy.
Rhys pushed his tongue into my mouth, and damn, it was short-circuiting my brain. I whined when he trailed kisses along my jawline, but then shut the hell up when he reached my neck and kept going.
He drew back despite my protests, and started moving things around on the counter behind me. His powerful hands gripped my hips and, without warning, he lifted me up, setting my ass on the cleared space.
Ain’t nothing small about me, and he just manhandled me like a Raggedy Ann doll. I might already be in love.
Stepping between my thighs, his broad thighs stretched my legs apart as he slotted our cocks together. Before I could catch my breath, he dove in for an even deeper kiss. Maybe I should be slowing us down, but… fuck it. I wrapped my legs around his waist, adding friction to our illicit grind.
“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna come in my pants,” I warned.
His generous mouth tipped up into a grin. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”
Gripping the button on my jeans, he paused, looking at me with a raised brow. We’d shared our statuses, and I couldn’t think of anything else I could possibly want to do than have him take me apart.
When I nodded, he thumbed open the button, then unzipped me just as quickly. I gripped the edge of the counter and held myself up while he yanked my jeans and underwear down. I sat there, ass cheeks on the chilly counter, without a care in the world.
Grinning, he knelt before me then confidently took my entire length in his mouth. I hissed with pleasure, running my fingers through his soft, fluffy hair as he buried his nose in my pubes, hollowing out his cheeks like it was his last day on earth.
The pleasure hit my veins like a drug, and I had a flash of early Sunday morning farmer’s markets, lazy days twisted up in sun-soaked sheets together, and whispered I love yous.
The one remaining brain cell in my head tried valiantly to send out an alarm.
Too fast. Too fast. Sadly, that message was immediately set on fire and burned to ash as Rhys’s eyes latched on to mine.
The craziest sensation hit me square in the chest—less a lightning strike and more a humming electricity, like a resonant, shared knowing.
I knew in that moment my life was about to change for the better.