Chapter 31
Fallon
Basil sits in his ceramic pot beside my yoga mat, his glossy leaves fanning like tiny green hands reaching toward me. I slowly stretch into the cobra pose, several vertebrae clicking, my breath spilling out of me.
The scent of last night’s storm still charges the air, rain droplets clinging to every window, dragging me back to those precious hours I don’t think I’ll ever forget.
I keep replaying the moment Rhys looked at me naked.
How he gave me permission to touch him. How I felt powerful with my hand wrapped around his manly hardness. Because the choice was mine.
And most of all, safe.
I lower my chest, forehead pressed to the mat, and exhale through the knot in my ribs.
Basil’s leaves tremble in the draft from the heater, ‘Remember how Kosta hurt you?’
“Unfortunately, yes,” I whisper to him. “But I think I’m ready to try again.”
Things are moving in that direction a lot faster than I expected.
‘Rhys would make it good for you,’ Ivy says, voice smooth and knowing.
Basil snorts. ‘He’s an assassin, Vines.’
‘He’s been incredibly gentle with her,’ she argues with Basil.
My arms shake as I hold plank, breath steady to maintain control.
Ivy is right. Rhys has been careful with me.
My slutty mind keeps staging vivid daydreams. Rhys peeling away my clothes gradually.
His mouth, hot and hungry, everywhere. My thighs parting for him like they were made to only open for him.
Heat floods my face, and I have to take a break from the rush.
“Is this normal?” I ask the committee. “He is hot as sin. Literally sinful.”
‘Because he kills people,’ Basil likes to keep reminding me.
“I can lean into his dangerous side.” A darker pulse flickers through me. “I want him to tie me up and make me forget my name.”
Basil looks judgy in the morning light.
“Okay!” My voice cracks. “Let me finish a few more vinyasas.”
Fifteen grueling minutes later, when the fantasies have spun out of control, I spring to my feet and scurry to the bathroom.
I splash cold water on my cheeks until they stop glowing like Rudolph’s nose in a snowstorm.
I meet my own wide eyes in the mirror. My lips are flushed. I look like I’ve been kissed.
No, this is beyond sexy and passionate kissing. My brain starts its analytical spiral of the human physiological response to arousal when a knock on the door makes me jump. I skip across the living room area, heart stuttering, and pull it open.
Rhys stands there, a dark force against the ambient corridor lighting. His gaze drops to my skimpy yoga clothes. Shorts, thin tank top, no bra.
“Hi,” I squeak.
“Hi.” Jaw flexed, he responds with a control I can feel.
“Come in.” I step aside.
He treks past me, big and quiet. I swear the air shifts around him.
“How’re you feeling?” he asks.
“Great.” I beam at him. “No sneezing. The warm shower last night helped.”
“Mine sure did,” he mutters with a hand in his hair.
“You’re early.” I shift from side to side. “For our date.”
His head lifts, no more strands of dark hair spilling across his cheek. “Date?”
“Ice skating,” I say. “It’s a tradition. Central Park. I go every year.”
He glances toward the rolling calendar. “It’s not on here,” he notes as if that’s a loophole he’ll exploit.
“It’s not?” I storm that way, my eyes glued to the empty box.
“That’s not possible. It’s a tradition. I go every year.
The same Tuesday. Because there’s not much of a crowd yet.
I’ve watched tourist patterns for the rink, the tree.
I even know how many pretzels the guy on the corner sells that day.
How could I forget? What’s wrong with me? ”
“Hey,” Rhys murmurs, his voice slicing through my spiral like a hot knife. “You’ve been sick. Give yourself a break.”
I blink up at him. “And you’ve been kissing me.”
His eyes go soft. “Good kissing has been known to drown out everything around you.”
No kidding.
“It’s okay. We can fix this.” Getting behind me and pressing against my back, firm and sure, he takes one of the markers and brings it up to the board.
I squeak and bite my fingers because he’s using the wrong color.
“What?” he asks with gentle eyes.
‘Let the man choose a color. It’s his date, too,’ Fern suggests.
She’s right. Even if it wasn’t, it’s just a color. “Nothing. I like that marker. Purple.”
“It is my favorite color,” he says with a sexy brow waggle.
‘It’s the color of bruises,’ Basil quips.
I snort. “So what?”
“Hmmm?” Rhys says, waving the marker.
“Nothing. Go ahead.”
“Permission to write on the whiteboard, wow. I’m moving up in Fallon World.” He chuckles and writes in Skating with his tidy, decisive hand.
Fallon World. I like that. Next, I’m eyeing my plants, drunk with power.
“Now it’s official.” Rhys smiles.
My heart swells so large, it may crack my ribs. I spin around and fling my arms around him. “Because we’re official.”
“We are, aren’t we?” Rhys folds me into his arms. They feel like warm bands of steel wrapped around my spine.
We tilt back just enough to see each other. He looks at my mouth, and I look at his.
“Couples are supposed to kiss when they first see each other,” he says, voice low and rough around the edges.
“I like that tradition, too.” I snuggle closer to him.
“I’ll add it to the rules on the whiteboard when I’m done getting my fill of your mouth,” he growls, lowering his lips to meet mine.
We kiss, and it’s soft and sweet. The kind of kiss that doesn’t demand anything of me. But promises a lot of heat in my future.
I swallow, pulse hammering. The words slip out before I can stop them. “If…if we ever… You know. Would you be gentle?”
“If?” His brows cinch together.
Rhys brushes his thumb along my jaw. His normally bright golden eyes have suddenly turned dark as midnight.
“Yes, Fallon,” he says softly. “Our first time will be gentle.”
My breath snags. “Good.”
“The second time, I won’t be.” His mouth swoops next to my ear. “I hope you can handle me.”
A shiver darts down my spine like lightning. “And if I can’t?”
He blinks a few times. “You’re stronger than you think. But if it’s too much, then you tell me. I will never hurt you or force you to do something you don’t want. Patience is my brand.”
‘Because he’s an assassin,’ Basil loves to remind me.
I don’t even dignify that with a side eye. I can’t break the stare from Rhys, or he’ll stop looking at me and talking this sweet but dirty talk.
“When?” I squeak.
“When you’re ready.” He strokes my hair. “I’ve waited all this time, too.”
“True.” He hasn’t wanted to get close to anyone. But he’s willing to get close to me.
A shadow crosses over his face. “Fallon, refresh my memory. How did I ask you to be my girlfriend?”
My throat tightens. How do I tell him that I don’t really remember because my memory is spotty from the anxiety attack?
Covering, I say, “You just did.”
“I must have been very nervous.”
“Me, too,” I snort. “It’s not every day an assassin asks you to go steady. I wrote it in my journal that night.”
“Journal?” His breath seems to escape him.
“I used to keep a journal.”
“Why did you stop?”
“These greenies turned out to be better listeners.” I hold up Basil. “Yes, I’m giving you a compliment, you grump.”
Rhys laughs and flicks his leaves.
‘If he touches me again…’
“I’m glad you’ve had them all this time, Fal,” Rhys keeps going. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around.”
“You’ve been busy, I know.” I put down Basil and hug my boyfriend. “But you’re here now. You’ve made up for it.”
In ways I never could have dreamed.
“Get dressed, let’s have that date.” He nudges me. “You have me excited to skate.”
You have me excited for a lot more…
“Oh wait, I have something to show you.” I bounce into my bedroom area to grab the holiday pajamas I ordered.
When I return, I hold up a set of matching red flannel PJs with little snowflakes.
His brows lift. “What are those?”
“For Christmas at my father’s house,” I chirp.
Rhys glances at the calendar again.
“Oh. Right.” He doesn’t sound thrilled.
Then he checks his watch, jaw settling back into business mode. “We should go. Before it gets too crowded.”
I nod eagerly at his efficiency.
With winter-white clouds blanketing the sky above, the air nips at my cheeks as we step onto the ice. Or it could be my short white fur skirt. My pink leggings aren’t thermal, and my fuzzy pink jacket and earmuffs are more for aesthetics than warmth.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Rhys says. “But you look like a feral snow bunny. And you know what?” He drags me closer. “I love it.”
“Is it too loud?” I smooth my skirt, suddenly realizing I might be drawing attention to Rhys. He’s always dressed in black like a shadow.
“No. This is all you. I don’t want you to change anything for me.” He takes my hand.
“Good.” I let him steer me further away from the rink’s wall.
“Hey, did you know this rink was built in 1950?” I cling to Rhys’s hand.
“They finished it in just four months. Four! It was supposed to be permanent, then it melted because they used a natural freezing method that didn’t work, so they had to rebuild it and— Whoa! ”
My blade skids, but Rhys’s arm darts around my waist, steadying me.
“Fascinating,” he murmurs, lips curved.
“You’re just saying that to be a good boyfriend.”
“I’m new here to New York. Spill all the factoids you want. I have a passion for details.” He pushes backward effortlessly, pulling me with him.
My eyes go wide. “You can skate backward?”
“I played ice hockey,” he says casually. “Local youth group team.”
“Let me guess. Were you the enforcer?”
“No. Goalie.” He twirls me in a slow spin, then dips me low until my hair brushes the ice.
“Rhys!” I shriek-laugh, flailing, and he pulls me up like I weigh nothing.
“I’ll show you. It’s easy.”
He spends the next hour showing me how to skate backward, his hands firm at my hips as he glides close behind me.
“Trust your edges,” he says.
“My what?”
“Lean into the inside of your blade.”
I tilt, shriek, and he catches me again. My balance wobbles, but I never fall. He doesn’t let me.
“You got this. You’re amazing, Fal,” he says, whispering near my earmuff.
I can’t believe this is happening, how close we’re getting all of a sudden.
After touching my face, he frowns. “You’re freezing, feral bunny.”
“It’s okay, I’m having a great time.”
“How about some hot chocolate?” He grins, slow and wolfish.
“Hot chocolate sounds great.” I nod, already feeling the warmth spread through me.
Wait until he finds out there’s such a thing as frozen hot chocolate!
Warmed up from the cocoa, I’m perched on a bench while Rhys kneels to untie my skates. His big hands cradle my ankles, rubbing warmth back into my toes.
“God, that feels so good,” I sigh.
His eyes flick up through golden lashes, and something molten coils low in my belly. He opens his mouth to say something that doesn’t look like it will be PG, but his phone rings.
Groaning, he answers it. “Yeah, Blade. He is. All right. Thanks.” He tucks his phone back into his coat and swears.
“What?”
“I have to go…do something.”
My heart pounds, and I lean into his ear this time. “Kill someone?”
His face flicks back up to me, horror in his eyes. “You really don’t care that I kill people?”
I think about that. When I was eighteen, I got a harsh lesson in reality. I found out my father promised me to a man who also killed people. Then that man raped me.
I didn’t mean to fall for Rhys, and it’s only a happy coincidence that he is also a trained killer who can protect me if Kosta makes good on his threat to claim me.
There are no coincidences. Rhys was given to you for a reason.
I look up to see the face of the voice, but there’s nothing but fluffy clouds in the blue sky. My mother in heaven, maybe? An angel?
“Fallon, love. Come back to me. You drifted off. Do you really not care?”
“Sorry.” I straighten, acting strong, because this is serious. “I don’t care. Well, I do care. Only because I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“No one is hurting me,” he says, and he lifts me up and helps me back into my boots. “Did you say something about a guy selling pretzels?”