Chapter 9
Rhys
Keira barefoot, hair still damp, in my boxer briefs with tanned legs—I wanted to wrap around my neck—on full display first thing this morning is a sight I’ll never forget for the rest of my life.
What a wake-up call.
No matter how much I tried to keep my eyes levelled with hers, it was impossible not to let them drift.
I knew she wasn’t wearing a bra. I saw it hanging to dry in the bathroom last night.
Even though the t-shirt she was wearing was three sizes too big, I was still able to see the outline of her nipples.
The desire to get her out of that damn t-shirt so I could suck and lick my way from the valley of her breasts, down her taut stomach, all the way to her pussy, was overwhelming.
I had to swim a few extra laps to cleanse my impure thoughts.
Damn her.
I was hoping the jetlag would keep her in bed much longer. I didn’t expect she’d be standing in my kitchen, staring at me like she wanted to eat me. There were so many emotions veiling her eyes. Each one of them tugging at my balls.
Was that lust?
Last night’s harshness and edge were replaced with fragility and vulnerability. I can handle that much better.
Keira insisted on preparing a breakfast of champions. Like I’m going to refuse pancakes and bacon. After picking up my car, we’re on the road. While I was doing my laps, I suggested she figure out the items she needs the most and pinpoint a few shops. We’re headed to the first address.
“You used the products I bought you,” I say.
The scent of the lavender permeates throughout the car. I remembered it’s her favorite scent, so I made sure to buy her a basket of bath products. I got her the expensive ones imported from Verona, Italy.
“Did I use too much?”
“Not at all. You smell… nice.”
She flashes me a wide grin. “That was great foresight on your part, Mr. Hartford.”
“It would be a shame for you to smell like me.”
“That could be misconstrued as a double entendre,” she says.
X-rated thoughts dance through my head.
Indeed, it could.
I hold her gaze a little longer than I should as I change gear.
I return my focus to the road.
“On a serious note, after rudimentary accommodations, a string of dingy bathrooms, and toilets that are nothing more than a hole in the ground, I feel as pampered as a queen at your place.”
My head rears back. “Holes in the ground?”
“Yup.”
“Even for women?”
“Yup. In Nepal, you don’t always get separate bathrooms for men and women, and since men can’t aim for shit, let’s just say I learned to hold it whenever I could.”
I laugh my head off.
The GPS announces we’re approaching the first address on her list, so I scan the streets for parking.
It doesn’t take long for me to find a spot.
We get out of the car and stroll side-by-side, glancing at the shops along the way.
I’m not sure I’ve ever been in this neighborhood. It’s like playing tourist for the day.
We arrive in front of a chic boutique.
Keira points an eager finger. “We’re here.”
“French Applique?.” I furrow my brows. “What the hell?”
When she said she needed underwear, I figured I was going to end up in an awkward situation, but I thought I could handle it.
I’m ill-prepared for this.
If the salacious underwear on the mannequins in the window is any indication, I’m in real trouble.
You’re testing my resolve, God.
“At the monastery, we were expected to wear modest clothing and underwear, aka, boring, basic cotton. I’m so looking forward to buying super sexy combos.”
I’m not going to survive this.
Unaware of my mental anguish, she saunters into the shop.
I’m rooted in place.
I’m taking my best friend’s little sister lingerie shopping for super sexy combos.
I must have a death wish.
Noah is built like a tank. He’s going to strangle me and then kill me.
Keira pokes her head out. “Are you coming in?”
“Right behind you,” I say.
Since I don’t date, and I can’t remember the last time I had a girlfriend, I never set foot in a lingerie shop. Walking into French Applique? is like entering paradise. Every corner of the store jacks up my senses.
This is torture.
“Hello, I am Nadya. I help you find something you like?” A tall blonde with a strong Eastern European accent smiles wide.
“Hi, Nadya, it’s not for me. It’s for her.”
We all laugh.
“A man take woman to shop for the lingerie? So sexy?” Nadya beams.
My eyes grow wide at her comment. “I’m—”
“I know, right?” Keira giggles. “I’m such a lucky girl,” she says in a coquettish voice. She even has the audacity to lace her arm with mine.
What the hell is she doing?
She glances up at me, her ridiculously long eyelashes fluttering a mile a minute. “Thank you for spoiling me, baby.”
Baby?
The words travel straight to my cock.
Nadya claps her hands together. “What you need?”
Keira turns her attention to me. “What would you like to see me in, baby?”
I shoot her a warning look.
Her grin only widens.
“I help,” Nadya says, pulling our attention to her. “What you like more? Baby-making combo? Role-playing? Virginal? Romantic? Fire hot to bring him down to knees?”
That last one is an option?
“At French Appliqué, all is possible,” Nadya says.
Like an old-fashioned slide presentation, images of Keira in each tempting combo flash in front of my eyes, the clicking sound of the carousel thumping in rhythm with my pulsating cock.
My mouth is dry.
My eyes bounce from the blonde to the pint-sized brunette.
Keira’s eyebrows arch in the form of a question.
Nadya awaits my answer.
I clear my throat. “I’ll wait outside.”
With a decisive step, I head to the door.
One more minute in this store and I’ll embarrass myself.
“But baby, if you’re outside how am I going to pay for the collection of lingerie sure to bring you down to your knees?” Keira throws that question over my shoulder.
That stops me dead in my tracks.
My mind goes straight to the gutter.
What kind of game is she playing?
I thought she spent seven months in a monastery, not acting school.
I turn around to face her.
“Shoot me a text when you’re ready,” I say in a controlled voice. “Whatever you need, just”—I wave a frantic finger around the store—“buy it.”
“Awww.” Nadya places both hands against her heart. “The love, so big.”
I squint my eyes at Keira, warning her.
She responds by grabbing a random item from the rack.
“Before you go. What do you think of these, baby?”
My eyes drop to the panties she’s holding.
Jesus. The woman is determined to kill me.
“Oh, crotchless panties, so popular.” The sales clerk flashes me a wicked smile. “Notee, notee.”
I suspect she means naughty, naughty.
“Very good for baby making.” Nadya’s words have the same effect as an atomic bomb.
Time for me to get the fuck out of here.
I turn on my heel and bolt out of the shop while I’m still able to hold on to a shred of my sanity.
When I’m outside, instead of distancing myself from the landmine, I stand in front of the window and peer inside like a lost puppy.
Keira is aware my eyes are on her.
She looks at me from over her shoulder a few times and winks.
Devious woman.
I stare down at the stupid bulge between my legs and shake my head.
You are so fucked, buddy.
An hour and two tall lattes later, I’m sitting at a coffee shop, chomping at the bit to put an end to this suffering.
My eyes close on a frustrated sigh.
I wasn’t willing to accept defeat last night. To prove Keira wasn’t fucking with my head, I went to Dark Compulsion, determined to lose myself balls-deep in a warm pussy.
It was in vain.
Half an hour after walking into the club, I was sitting in the back of a chauffeured car, heading back to my house.
It wasn’t for the lack of drop-dead gorgeous candidates.
My cock refused to rise to the occasion.
Funny how he didn’t have a problem reacting to Keira holding a pair of crotchless panties.
God knows I prepared myself for this day.
After a marathon-like run and swimming enough laps to qualify for the Olympic team, I took matters into my own hand. Literally. Jerking off twice this morning did nothing. I’m as horny as a beast and aching with longing for a woman I have no business lusting after.
Stupid crotchless panties.
Only a lobotomy could put an end to the loop of salacious images running through my mind since I fled the lingerie shop.
I wonder if those crotchless panties come in different colors––
The more distance I put between myself and the devil’s den, the better. Willpower isn’t enough when confronting a ballbreaker enemy like French Appliqué. I pull out my phone and shoot Keira a text.
Rhys
Are you done?
Keira
I just tried the last combo. Talk about doing a one-eighty from the basic undies I arrived with.
Rhys
So, you’re set?
Keira
There are so many gorgeous options, my mind is dizzy.
So is mine.
Keira
The bras are amazing. The. Best. Fit. Ever. I didn’t try on the panties—of course—but I’m pretty sure they’ll fit beautifully. I even feel confident enough to buy one of the crotchless pairs. Two, actually.
I groan and pinch the bridge of my nose.
Keira
I’ll grab a couple combos. I’ll go to a discount store next week to buy cheaper lingerie.
Rhys
Nonsense. Why would you run around town when you can get everything you need at one shop? Whatever fits, buy it.
Keira
I don’t want to abuse your generosity.
Rhys
You’re not abusing. I’m offering.
I’ve always considered myself an alpha, but maybe I was wrong. Perhaps there’s a masochist dormant inside me. Why else would I be pushing?
Keira
Are you sure?
Rhys
I’m sure.
Keira
There are quite a few I like.
Rhys
Get them all.
Keira
You’re not just saying that?
Rhys
I’m a straight-shooter.
Goddammit, my water bill is going to go way up while she’s living with me. Looks like I’ll be taking cold showers every morning and night. Multiple times on the weekends.
Keira
You’re not just saying that?
Rhys
I’m a straight-shooter.
Three little dots bounce up and down.
They bounce again.
And again.
Still no message.
Rhys
Everything okay?
Keira
Sorry, I couldn’t type there for a minute. I was laughing my head off.
Huh?
I frown as I reread my last reply.
Rhys
What’s so funny?
Keira
You talking about being a straight-shooter while I’m wearing the baby-making see-through bra, crotchless panties and garter belt in red with the five-inch strappy heels Nadya insisted I wear strapped to my feet is kind of hilarious.
I’m not laughing.
Her reply kicks me dead in the dick.
Rhys
You can’t buy the baby-making combo.
Keira
Why not? I thought you said I could buy anything that fits.
I narrow my eyes at the screen.
She’s pushing my buttons.
Rhys
Not. That. One.
Keira
All right, grumpy roomie.
Rhys
It’s grumpy **landlord** to you, young lady.
Keira
LOL You’re hilarious.
Rhys
I’m serious.
Keira
I got the message loud and clear, Mr. Hardball. No baby-making combo. No biggie. I’m not ready for kids yet, and it’s not like I’m seeing anyone.
Jesus Christ.
Rhys
So, you’re done?
Keira
All done. I’m about to strip out of the baby-making combo and put on my sensible underwear and **your** t-shirt.
Another visual I didn’t need. She’s wearing her shorts, but borrowed another t-shirt.
Rhys
I’ll be there in ten.
Fuck my life.
“You come back,” Nadya says when I walk into the shop.
“Yup.” My body is on edge. “She’s done?”
“She finish soon. You go see.” Nadya winks at me.
Nope. That’s not a good idea.
“It’s okay, I’ll wait—”
I freeze midsentence when I catch a glimpse of the most enticing vision I’ve ever seen in my life.
Keira?
My legs move on their own volition, drawn to her like a magnetic force. I stand behind her and I can’t believe my eyes.
What.
The actual.
Fuck?
Her gaze catches mine in the mirror.
Our eyes lock, and I swear, you could toast marshmallows from the fire emanating from our heated stare.
I swallow.
The sight of her is so salacious, it almost knocks me to my ass.
It’s as if all the air has been sucked out of the shop as I gasp in admiration.
Keira in my baggy clothes is a vision, but seeing her now is enough to cause heart failure.
She’s wearing a sexy-as-all-fuck silk and lace robe and whatever goes underneath it in a seductive shade—pale green silk with soft pink lace on the edge.
The combination only intensifies her hazel-green eyes.
It doesn’t go unnoticed how the luxurious fabric caresses her soft, supple skin.
The short length accentuates her tanned legs.
Is there such a thing as lingerie lust?
If so, I’m there.
I’m mesmerized by her beauty.
I drink her in.
My stomach tightens and I push the confusing feelings down, reminding myself who she is.
Noah’s baby sister.
Still, the mental beatdown is no match for the mouthwatering vision standing before me.
She smiles, and small dimples pierce her cheeks.
“Nadya suggested I try on this kimono set for fun,” she says.
I stare, words escaping me as I commit every perfect inch of her body to memory.
Her lips part, and her tongue peeks out to wet them.
“It’s pretty, though,” she says. “I’ve never owned anything in silk before. But I don’t need it. Who would I wear it for?”
Me.
She doesn’t avert her gaze when she says that.
My eyes don’t leave hers.
My pulse races as fast as a speeding train.
She continues when I remain speechless. “It makes me feel feminine… especially, the chemise.”
Is that what you call it?
“It’s from France.”
Bless the French.
“Even the name of the brand sounds chic––Marjolaine. Ooh Lala.” She giggles.
I don’t crack a smile.
“I’ve felt like a tomboy since shaving my head. And since I’ve been walking around in your clothes, I’ve looked like one. This is such a departure.” She fusses with her short hair.
I find my voice. “I told you yesterday, Keira, you’re perfect.”
Her lips part in a warm smile.
“Maybe I need a proper haircut and some makeup.”
“Maybe you don’t need a damn thing.”
“Rhys Hartford, always the supportive big brother figure.” Her tone is almost challenging.
My jaw tightens as my eyes slide over her body. Her chest heaves up and down. With a tinge of satisfaction, I catch the shaky breath she exhales.
“Your breasts…”
The words drop from my lips without my consent.
She lets out a little laugh.
“You noticed my breasts, Rhys?”
“I was never blind.”
“I can tell you more about it later, if that’s okay.”
I nod. “Sure. Whenever you’re ready to talk.”
Silence ticks between us and awareness trickles in.
I’m still staring at her without shame.
I give her another onceover.
“Buy the kimono set and everything else that fits.” It isn’t a suggestion. It’s an order.
She shrugs. “If you say so. You’re paying after all.” Her answer is flippant, dripping with effrontery and impertinence.
Keira always knew how to poke the bear in me.
I’m up for the challenge.
“Yes, I am.” I hold her gaze. “And I’m used to getting what I want.”
She blushes from ear to ear.