21. Chapter Twenty Savannah
Chapter Twenty: Savannah
Our clothes are gone in a flash, and then I’m pulling Rhys down to cover me. Feeling his warm body pressing along the length of mine is a heaven I’ve never known until him. One I will fight to keep, if need be. Because I’ve decided this utterly dashing, reluctant hero is all mine.
“Savvy,” he hisses when I wrap my hand around his weeping cock. I stroke his long, thick length, marveling at how silky it feels.
“I need you inside me.” My hands slide around and grip his firm ass.
“Condom,” he rasps, all husky and striving to hang on to his control.
When he shifts back and starts to get up, I refuse to let go. “No. It’s okay. I’m on birth control.” I push my pelvis up, rubbing against him. “I want to feel you. Nothing between us.”
Our gazes lock, and a muscle flexes in his cheek. “I’ve never been bare with anyone. You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
The trust between us blossoms even more as he spreads my thighs further then slowly begins sinking inside me. Inch by throbbing inch. My nails dig into his shoulders as his cock stretches me. Nothing ever felt so right or so damn good.
We begin to move together, hot and eager, and I need him on a level that’s almost frightening.
He’s made me understand that hiding away from life and trying to forget the past by consuming myself in work isn’t the answer.
Life keeps going, and I need to pull my head out of the sand—and occasionally out of my book—and experience all it has to offer.
Because it goes by far too fast. There’s so much more to life than work.
Experiences and people I don’t want to miss or take for granted.
Rhys has brought a zest for life back into my world.
I’ve been missing it for too long, but not anymore.
His mouth takes mine, kissing me as his slow, heavy thrusts hit right where I need. Pleasure starts building, replacing the restless ache. They say the French are the best lovers, and I agree wholeheartedly.
Without warning, he rolls us and I wind up on top. My hands drop down to his chest, fingers splayed, and he grips my hips, helping guide me up and down his cock.
“C'est ma chérie. Take us there, Savvy,” he urges.
I begin to move faster, more frantically, chasing after my orgasm. He reaches for my breasts, cupping them, watching me with hooded green eyes as I ride him hard. A cry rips from my throat when my release hits, and my entire body jerks as I come apart on his cock.
Once again, he flips us. On my back, lost in an orgasmic haze, I grab onto him as he lifts one of my legs, hooking it on his hip, and sinks deep.
We both groan at the intensity of the contact.
His thrusts become fast and hard, and the moment his fingers find my clit and begin rubbing circles, I fly over the edge again.
Arching up, I cry out. He follows me, stiffening, then shuddering through his release with a low roar.
He collapses on top of me, quickly rolling off so he doesn’t crush me. Lying on the pillows, trying to catch my breath, I feel him reach for my hand. I watch as he turns it and places an open-mouthed kiss on my palm.
“I don’t want any secrets between us, chérie.” He sighs heavily. “But I’m afraid if you see my true colors…” He pulls my hand against his chest, green eyes fierce. “I can’t lose you.”
“You won’t,” I promise. “Just know, when you’re ready, I’m here.”
He seems to consider my words, and I can feel the steady, strong beat of his heart against my palm. “Same goes for you. You never told me who hurt you.”
No, I didn’t. My good mood deflates a fraction.
“Hang on.” He slips away, padding into the bathroom, and I zero in on his perfect ass, watching as it flexes with every step.
Mmm. Good mood restored.
He returns with a warm, wet washcloth, and instead of handing it over to me, he carefully cleans between my thighs. It’s so intimate, and I can’t help but stiffen a little. It’s the first time a man has ever done this for me.
“I’ve never done this,” he admits in a low voice. “But since we didn’t use protection…”
After he finishes gently wiping away the traces of his release, he tosses the washcloth back into the bathroom and slides in bed again. Leaning against the pillows, he gets comfortable as I curl up under his arm.
“Who’s going first?” he asks.
“I don’t have much to tell, but it’s humiliating.”
“What happened, chérie?”
“I was working at a restaurant back in Ohio, trying to learn the ins and outs of the business, when the owner started flirting with me. I naively believed he was genuinely interested and fell for his bullshit. He blinded me with his charm, so you can understand why I was wary of you at first.”
“I don’t rely on my charm to seduce women,” he murmurs. “More so on my unabashed wit and dazzling personality.”
My lips twitch. “Anyway… We began sleeping together and, after a few months of falling deeper and deeper into what I thought was a solid relationship with a nice future ahead of us… I found out he was married.” The last word slips past my lips on a whisper.
I still feel so awful about it. Betrayed and misled of course, but also horrible for what it meant for his wife.
But there’s zero judgment on Rhys’s face.
Just concern over my dismay. “I had no idea. He didn’t wear a ring, never mentioned her, and he asked me out! I stupidly assumed he was single.”
“None of the other employees warned you about him?”
I shake my head. “No one knew about us. Since he was the boss, we had to keep it quiet. With hindsight, it all seems so sordid. I was so stupid.”
“You’re not stupid, Savvy. You just fell for the wrong person. It happens, and there’s no sense berating yourself over it.” He lightly caresses my shoulder. “How did you find out the bastard was married?”
“One night, a gorgeous woman showed up at the restaurant. Chad sat with her and they ate dinner together. I asked one of the servers who she was, and she said his wife. I truly had no idea, and I still feel sick about it.”
“Asshole,” he hisses.
“When I confronted him later, he accused me of using him and blamed me for everything. I was so shocked by how cold he became. Then he told me to stay away from him and his wife, and he fired me.”
Rhys utters a violent curse in French, tightening his hold on me. “I’m so sorry he did that to you. But he’s the one who was married, not you. You can’t shoulder all the blame when you had no idea.”
“I know. I just…” I swallow the lump in my throat. “Marriage is a sacred vow. I hate thinking I’m some kind of homewrecker.”
“A vow you never took,” he firmly reminds me. “Even if she divorced him—which she should—you wouldn’t be to blame. That rests squarely on his shoulders.”
I can see his logic. And it was never my intention to hurt anyone or to destroy their relationship.
“Let it go,” he whispers against my hair.
I really want to, and, letting Rhys’s strength surround me, I do exactly that. I release the guilt, extricate myself from the regret suffocating me. And after four long years, a weight immediately and miraculously lifts off my shoulders.
“Thank you for understanding,” I say, voice low. “And for helping me to understand.”
“You’re welcome, chérie.”
For a moment, neither of us says anything. We just hold each other, a comforting energy flowing between us. Then he starts speaking. I have no idea what he’s saying because it’s in French, but the words flow freely. Flowery, elegant and so very lovely. Somehow, I know he’s telling me his story.
I’ve never heard him speak his native language other than a curse here or there.
Or when he calls me some pretty term of endearment.
Even though he must be saying hard words, sharing difficult things, I get lost in the fluid prose.
There’s a lulling quality to his speech, and I discover I love listening to him speak French. It’s almost poetic.
After a couple of minutes, he stops and I glance up. “See, that wasn’t so hard was it?” I ask, and he laughs, his chest rumbling against me.
Tracing his fingers up and down my arm, he turns his face into my hair and places a kiss there.
Then he settles back. “I grew up in a small village in the South of France. My dad left and my mom raised me. We didn’t have much and she always worked so hard.
I spent my days planning elaborate ways to make enough money so I could buy her all the things she deserved.
But that never happened. She collapsed from a heart attack while cleaning at the inn where she worked. I was only twelve.”
“I’m so sorry, Rhys. Losing your parents…” My voice catches. “It’s so hard.”
His fingers lace through mine, and he lays our hands on his chest. “I’m sorry for your loss, too, Savvy. I wish I could say it gets easier.”
“But it doesn’t.”
“No, not really.” He squeezes my hand. “Since I never knew my father, my mom was my everything. My entire world. Then one day she was just…gone, and I became an orphan.”
My heart breaks for the little boy who lost his world at only twelve.
“Earlier that same day, I had snuck off to the museum to see a renowned sapphire.”
Propping myself up better so I can see his expression, I make a guess. “The Heart of Azure?”
“The one and only. I was mesmerized by the way it sparkled under the lights. Sapphires were my mom’s birthstone, and I remember thinking how pretty she’d look in the necklace.
And how one day I was going to make enough money that she could quit her thankless job, and I’d spoil her rotten. Just like she deserved.
“It wasn’t long before a guard came over and yelled at me for touching the glass and dirtying it up with my grubby fingerprints.
He looked at me like I was trash. Filthy.
Said I didn’t belong there. It’s strange how some things stick with you long after they’ve happened.
I can still see the disgust on his face.
“Of course, I didn’t have a ticket, so I ran. When I got home, my mom’s friend from work was there. And she told me what happened, and how I had to go to a foster home.”
I sniff softly, trying to hold back my emotion for his sake. “Oh, Rhys.”
“I ran away to Paris instead.”
“You went to Paris all by yourself? At twelve?” My heart clenches. “How did you survive on your own in such a big city?”
He swallows hard, and I can tell this next part is hard for him.
“I wouldn’t have if it weren’t for Remy.
” Taking a breath, he continues. “After seven days of being hungry, homeless and alone, I was ready to return to my little town in Provence. But then I met Remy. He was a year older than me and so street-smart. I thought he was the best thing since baguettes. While I had zero confidence, he overflowed with it. Along with possessing a ton of charisma and charm. I knew I wanted to be just like him within a minute of meeting him.” A soft, wistful smile softens his face.
“He took me under his wing and taught me everything he knew. Remy and Rhys. We made a great team, conning rich people left and right. And then…” A pained look flashes across his face.
“What happened?” I ask softly.
“We picked the wrong man to steal from,” he says darkly.
“We were just a couple of hungry kids.” His mouth flattens.
“My job was to keep a lookout and distract the police if they came around while Remy picked the man’s wallet.
We’d done it a hundred times before. But this time, the man caught him and gave chase.
He yelled for the police. Instead of running toward me, Remy took off in the opposite direction, drawing them all away from me.
I was supposed to be the distraction, not him.
Me, dammit. Yet I just stood there, hiding in the alley, unable to move.
Frozen while I watched him race along the edge of the Seine.
Somehow, he slipped. I remember watching in terror as he hit his head and fell into the water.
While I should’ve been running and diving into the river to save him, I just fucking stood there. ”
“You were in shock,” I tell him, immediately coming to his defense. “And scared. The police should’ve helped him.”
“I should’ve helped him, but I ended up running. Someone on the street pointed me out, accusing me of being a part of the theft, and I took off. Later, I found out Remy drowned.”
“You can’t blame yourself, Rhys.”
“But, I do. I’ve hated myself for being a coward and hiding in the shadows. Hated myself so much that I stopped going by Rhys and began referring to myself only as Laurent. Taking on a new persona, becoming someone else, because I could barely look at myself in the mirror.
“Our names were so similar. Rhys and Remy. Every time I said my name, I thought of him. Of how much he’d taught me.
And how I’d have to do everything going forward on my own because I didn’t have the balls to save him like he’d saved me.
It hurt too much to even remember him. See? I’m a fucking coward.”
“No, you’re not. When I was in trouble, when I needed you most, you stepped up.
You didn’t leave my side, Rhys. You rushed into a burning building to rescue me the first time, and you barely knew me,” I remind him.
“And then you went up against Voss and his men. I can’t thank you enough.
And when I say you’re my hero, I mean it.
” I twist around and grab his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me.
“You, Rhys, are my fucking hero. I mean that to the depths of my grateful heart. And I need you to believe it, too.”
His eyes glisten with unshed tears, and it’s my undoing.
“Stop blaming yourself for an accident you had no control over,” I plead passionately. “You were a scared child, on your own and in a situation you never should have been. And you’ve become a good man, an amazing man, and I love you.”
I pull his face toward mine and kiss him hard, because maybe if my words don’t convince him, my kiss will.
The meeting of our mouths is turbulent—lips parted, tongues lashing—and I move closer, straddling him.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard and I drag my hands around his neck and squeeze.
“I love you, Rhys,” I say simply. “I love every part of you—past, present and future.”
“I don’t know what I did to deserve you, chérie. But I’m never, ever giving you back.”
I laugh through the tears sliding down my face. “Good,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around him and pressing my cheek to his chest. “I’m all yours. Forever.”