Chapter 36
Rhys
Ilock the door to Fallon’s flat, distracted by the soft thud of her boots padding across the floor. Her candy-cane tights are a bright streak against the muted cream walls. She places the bag of ornaments in a neat pile by her whiteboard calendar and then faces me.
Cheeks still flushed from the gun range and lips parted like she can’t quite catch her breath, she just stands there. Like she’s waiting for instructions.
Like she’s waiting for me.
Christ, the way her face lit up at the range, watching me hone my precision. No fear. Just awe.
“You’re quiet,” she says, her voice soft and curious. “Is everything okay?”
She has no bloody idea what she did to me tonight.
“Everything is perfect,” I say, my voice gravel with a hint of frustration.
Fallon thinks this is going to end. That I’m going to turn distant again. That was the plan, but that plan is dying a slow death.
Her gaze flicks to mine, startled, like she’s not used to such intense praise. And yet, all I want to do is praise her, grow into the kink with her.
I cross the room before I can talk myself out of it. It’s time…
“Come here.” My hands find her hips, and I draw her into me.
“Oh,” she mewls, breathy and surprised by the strength in my fingers.
“You listened,” I murmur, lowering my head. “You focused. You…obeyed me.”
“You made it easy.” Her palms flatten against my chest, kicking up the frantic drum of my pulse. “And I liked watching you.”
God help me.
I dip my forehead to hers. She smells like peppermint, vanilla shampoo, and a trace of the herbs she cares for. She’s written herself into my skin. And I’m done pretending this isn’t real.
“I’ve been trying,” I whisper, my lips brushing her temple, “not to want this.”
Her breath hitches. “And now?”
“Now, I want nothing more than this. Nothing more than you, Fallon.”
My mouth is on hers before I can talk myself out of it. The kisses are clumsy for half a heartbeat. Our teeth gently clink like champagne toasts, followed by startled laughter and a breathless urgency I’ve never felt before.
Then it all turns into scorching heat and liquid fire. Her fingers curl into my shirt and pull me closer like she thinks I’m falling.
Fuck, I am. I’m falling for her like a sack of bricks.
I walk her backward toward her couch, her bed too tempting for my toxic thoughts. My hands map the outline of her shape. All I want to do is learn how to touch her without breaking her.
Her pulse beats wild under my thumbs as they slip beneath the hem of her skirt. “Oh,” she moans, trembling.
I pull back just enough to see her face. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
Fallon looks up at me, eyes wide and glowing. “Don’t you dare stop.”
A half groan, half laugh, rips from my chest. “I was waiting to see if you knew any other words to respond, besides Oh.”
“This is all new.” She locks her wrists around my neck.
“I’ll take my time with you.” I kiss her again, but deeper.
I’m starving, and she’s the only woman who’s ever tasted like home.
Fallon arches into me, pushing her hips against my erection, and it’s fucking over. Every line I swore I wouldn’t cross burns away to ash.
She’s warm and soft and letting me touch what no one else gets to see. Letting me have this.
Her.
When I sink onto the couch with her straddling my lap, she gasps against my mouth. My hands grip her thighs through those ridiculous tights, and something in my ribcage comes undone.
I don’t want to stop. I don’t want to ever let her go.
She presses her forehead to mine, breathing hard. “Rhys…”
The way she says my name, not in warning to stop or slow down or a plea to be gentle, but in want. Damn, that breaks free something inside me that I tried so hard to keep locked away.
“Steady, love,” I whisper, even though I’m the one shaking.
She smiles, dazed and beautiful, then kisses me with a shockingly erotic technique I am not prepared for.
Her hands thread through my hair, her lips parting to take my tongue deeper into her lush mouth as her heart races against my chest.
This might as well be my first time.