Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
R hys woke and stretched one arm over his head.
Damn . They hadn’t gotten much sleep, but he didn’t regret a thing.
He reached out and found no warm, soft body beside him, but he heard water running in his bathroom.
He stuffed a pillow under his head and eyed the bed. The sheets were nearly torn off. He pulled the corner of one sheet over his naked body and smiled. Haven McKinney hid a hot, wild, sex kitten under her tight skirts.
He heard her humming as she brushed her teeth, and his smile widened. He liked this—feeling good, lazy, his woman in his bathroom.
Now he just had to convince her not to be scared of it.
He heard the water shut off. As he lay there, Rhys realized that for the first time in a really long time, he didn’t feel that gnawing need in his gut to leap out of bed and get moving.
The urge to get out, find something to distract himself, to stay in motion.
He knew that it was when you stopped that old demons caught you.
But right now, his demons were quiet.
Haven sauntered out of the bathroom. She was in one of his T-shirts. It was too big for her—it hit her at mid-thigh, and the neckline slid down one shoulder.
A silky-smooth shoulder. His cock woke up. Shit, when was the last time a shoulder had turned him on?
Her hair was a sleep-mussed mess. All that brown hair gave him ideas.
Her steps slowed. “Hi.”
“Hey.”
Her gaze ran over him. He just had the twist of the sheet covering his hips, one leg uncovered.
She swallowed. “You look like a debauched rock star.”
“Well, the debauched part is right.”
Color flared in her cheeks. She twisted her hair up in a messy pile on her head and fastened it with a band. “I’ll cook us some breakfast. Then I want to go over everything we have on the Water Lilies .”
Rhys was momentarily distracted. As she lifted her arms up to do her hair, the hem of the T-shirt lifted. He saw several more inches of those slender thighs. Was she wearing panties?
“Rhys?”
Her words registered. “We?”
“Yes.” Her chin lifted. “I’m going to help you find the painting.”
He was tempted to lock her up somewhere safe, far, far away from San Francisco, and anything to do with the painting.
But he knew she’d fight him.
The only other alternative was to stick to her every second.
“Come here,” he said.
She hesitated, but then she moved and pressed a knee to the bed. “Rhys—”
Using his lightning-fast reflexes, he yanked her on top of him.
“You got panties on under that?” She was half sprawled on him, and he reached out and gripped her leg, just above her knee.
“I’m not answering that.” She sniffed. “I told you, you have nothing to do with any decisions on what I’m wearing.”
He slid his hand up, saw her chest hitch. “But I have some say in the clothes you take off.” His hand danced under the hem of the T-shirt, moving toward the juncture of her thighs. “Your skin is so soft, Haven.”
Then he found out that she definitely wasn’t wearing panties.
“My angel’s got a naughty streak.” He slid a finger inside her warmth.
She moaned, her head dropping forward. She pressed her hands to his chest and he loved the bite of her nails on his skin.
Rhys thrust two fingers inside her, his thumb strumming across her clit. Her hips moved restlessly, and she cried out.
“Get there, baby,” he murmured.
She panted, her hips rocking on his hand. “Rhys.”
“Come.”
“ Oh, God .” She ground down.
He pinched her clit and she came. He felt a rush of wet on his fingers and her tight pussy squeezing. Her husky cries were the sweetest music. She collapsed onto his chest.
Rhys reached out to the bedside table and grabbed a condom. He tugged Haven back up to straddle him. With a noise, she shifted her thighs on either side of him, her heavy gaze finding his swollen cock standing up between them.
He was so damn hard for her.
“Put it on.” He handed her the foil packet.
She fumbled and opened it. Then she took her sweet time rolling the latex over him.
Rhys felt like a wild beast. He needed her. He needed her skin against his. Needed her scent in his senses. Needed her warmth.
He reached up and yanked the shirt off her. Then he fisted his cock and Haven’s eyes glazed with need. She lifted her hips.
His gut was in knots, blood hammering through his veins.
“Take what you need, baby. What we both need.”
She rocked against him, rubbing against his cock. He hissed out a breath.
“Haven, do it.” He clamped his hands on her hips.
She lowered down, and the head of his cock slipped inside her. They both groaned, their gazes meeting.
“That’s it,” he said. “Work me inside you, angel.”
She lifted up, then drove down. She cried out.
Rhys gritted his teeth. He was lodged deep inside her—every hard inch. Desire hammered inside him, then she made an incoherent sound and pressed her hands to his chest.
She started to ride him, her hips rolling.
Fuck . Her tight pussy gripped him hard. With every thrust, she let out a harsh breath.
“Faster, Haven,” he growled.
She picked up the pace. Her pretty breasts bounced with her moves. He reached up and tugged her hair free.
It tumbled around her shoulders. She was the most beautiful thing he’d seen. Haven riding his cock, taking her pleasure.
“Rhys?”
“Baby?”
“Please…rub my clit.”
His gut clenched. His sexy girl asking for what she wanted. “You want me rubbing your clit while you ride my cock?”
“Yes.”
He found the sweet nub, and with one roll, her pussy clenched. She made a strangled cry and her back arched.
Fucking beautiful.
Her orgasm triggered his. Rhys yanked her down, his cock buried deep in her. His vision grayed—narrowing to only her and the climax tearing through him.
With a roar, his release shook his entire body.
She collapsed on him, and he wrapped his arms around her, tucking her close against his chest.
He turned his face into her hair and breathed her in. He listened as her breathing slowed, and let his hand trail up her back.
He wanted more. Turning his head, he found her neck. He kissed her, tasting her skin and the faint trace of salt. He saw the tiny bruise he’d left the first time they’d fucked and he smiled.
His mark . He gently kissed it and she made a happy, contented sound.
Then he smacked her ass. “You mentioned breakfast.”
This time, she made an annoyed sound.
“Come on, McKinney. I need sustenance.”
“Because you fucked me most of the night. I’m surprised we didn’t both lose ten pounds.”
He reached over and found the shirt he pulled off her. He urged her up, he pulled it back over her head.
She gave him a small smile, and Rhys stilled. Emotion moved through him.
In that moment, sitting on his rumpled bed with an equally rumpled Haven, he realized that he’d kill for her. Die for her.
She tilted her head. “Rhys?”
“Come on, angel. I need bacon.”
* * *
Haven finished scrambling the eggs. She eyed Rhys at the coffee machine, and added way more bacon to the frypan.
She’d gathered her hair back up on her head, and this time, she’d pulled some panties on under his T-shirt.
Rhys could not be trusted.
He was wearing a pair of loose sweatpants and had no shirt on. All those muscles and ink were a huge distraction.
Her belly tightened. She’d had sex—so much delicious sex—with the man. There should be no belly tightening.
He turned and handed her a mug of coffee, then dropped a kiss to her bare shoulder.
She shivered. How could one man be so devastating to her senses?
Quickly, she turned back to the frypan. She was in so much trouble. She was getting in deep, and a trickle of fear skated down her spine. She closed her eyes. Despite the fear, she wanted him. She’d wanted Rhys Norcross for a long time, and he was going above and beyond to keep her safe.
“You finished up with all the reasons why you can’t be with me?”
She turned to look at him. “Not yet.”
He smiled at her—slow and sexy.
“Go away.” She made a shooing motion with her hand. “And stop looking so sexy.”
Even his deep chuckle was sexy.
“Go play with your toy cars.”
He shot her a glare. “They’re models.”
She rolled her eyes.
By the time she’d plated up their food, Rhys was sitting at the island, staring at a sleek, black laptop.
Haven froze.
He was wearing glasses.
A hot, muscled badass in glasses. Her panties went damp in a second.
“Haven?” He was looking at her.
“You wear glasses?” she said.
“Not often. Sometimes I need them for computer work.” He cocked his head. “Why?”
“Nothing.” Resisting the urge to fidget, she pushed his plate to him, then sat on the stool beside him. She pressed her thighs together.
Rhys’ grin was cocky. “You like the glasses.”
She ignored him. He hardly needed his ego stroked.
“I need to fuck you again?” he asked.
She dug her fork into the eggs. “No. We’ll never find the painting if we’re always—” don’t look at the glasses “—in bed.”
“I still have a long list of places where I need to fuck you.”
She shivered.
“And Haven, I can wear my glasses.”
She shot him a look and then set to work on her eggs. He ate as well, tapping one handed on the laptop.
“I’ve called all the dealers I know,” he said.
“Me, too.” Apart from the vague rumor of the auction, they had nothing else to go on. “At least it seems they’re having trouble finding buyers to attend the auction. That’s why Leo needed me. To authenticate the painting.”
Rhys’ jaw tightened. “We’ll keep tugging on the strings. Sooner or later, someone will see or hear something.”
He pulled the laptop closer and Haven spotted the appraisal photo of the Water Lilies on the screen. She’d taken it herself.
She let out a gusty sigh. “It’s so beautiful. If they ruin it…”
Rhys made a sound.
“It is beautiful,” she insisted. “What I like is that you need to look deeper than just a first glance. The good stuff always requires more effort.”
She saw that he was looking at her with an intense look.