18 #2
When Rhys asked her to check the condo over before he got home—make sure the ice maker was working, set the thermostat at the proper level and so on—she decided to stick around until he arrived.
He'd been teasing her with text messages since her birthday, and she thought she should reward him with a little game.
She bit her bottom lip as she scrolled through some of the messages on her phone.
That lace thong you were wearing the other night? So hot. I like lace. I like white lace even better. Naughty lace, though. Hard as fuck just thinking about it.
Finished the extra verse to the song. Made Parker blush. Everyone wants to meet you now. You'll probably have to stay away from David or I'll have to kick his ass.
Have you ever had sex in public? Do you want to?
Had a dream about you last night. You were working out in the fitness room in a white lace thong. Couldn't walk this morning for a half hour.
I'll be home tomorrow. Be naked. And on a serious note, I've missed the hell out of you, Beautiful. And not just your body. But I've really missed that, too. Remember, naked. All right, maybe some white lace.
Since Rhys was about as subtle as a charging rhinoceros, Rhett logged onto the Agent Provocateur site on the hunt for risqué white lace lingerie. After she recovered from the swoon that occurred when she saw the prices, she bit the bullet and clicked the buy button.
Even though she was wearing the ripped up jeans he seemed to like the first day he made a move on her, underneath was a new thong made of white material so sheer it was almost non-existent with touches of white lace.
Her paisley peasant top hid the matching bra.
If—no, make that when—he managed to get her out of her clothes, she hoped he'd approve of the underpinnings.
Rhett closed the text app and checked the time.
Almost two-thirty. A flutter began in her stomach and spread downward as she turned the phone all the way off.
She didn't want any interruptions. Running her hands through her hair, she went into the foyer and put her eye to the peephole.
The slightly distorted view of the elevator doors met her anxious gaze.
For what she had planned, it was imperative she open the door of the condo for Rhys before he could do it himself.
Not too much time passed before the elevator doors slid open and Rhys stepped out, wheeling his luggage behind him.
Rhett didn't even try to suppress her moan of appreciation.
Despite the heat outside, he wore a charcoal gray suit and a black silk shirt unbuttoned at the throat.
That amazing hair that tumbled over his shoulders and back kept it rock 'n roll but fucking elegant rock 'n roll.
With a small sound of mirth, she saw that he was still wearing his aviator shades.
Perfect. For some reason she thought it would just add to what she had planned.
As he reached the door, Rhett swung it open. She posed in the doorway, a hand on either side of the jamb. "Hello there, handsome stranger," she drawled. "I don't think I've seen you around here before. You lost?"
After a moment of blank surprise, a slow smile curved his lips. "Actually, I've had a little car trouble. Think I could use your phone?"
"Oh, I don't have a phone. But I can offer you a place to stay for the night." She stepped back so he could come in.
He wheeled his luggage in and slipped the strap of his carry-on bag from his shoulder. "I do appreciate that, but I'm afraid I don't have any way to pay you."
Licking her lips, she let her gaze rake up and down his body. "I think we can probably work something out in trade. You see, I'm here all alone, and I need some...companionship. So you can have me and do anything at all you want to me. But." She held up a finger. "You have to catch me first."
Rhys went stock-still for a moment and then removed his sunglasses. He folded one stem in and tucked the other in the front of his shirt. As he leaned forward, his smile slowly disappeared. When he was an inch from her face, he stopped and spoke one word.
"Run."
Rhett's body reacted to the look in his eye and the low growl of his voice before her mind had time to process it.
She darted around him and into the living room, her bare feet skimming across the floor.
Halfway across the room, she came to a halt in front of the fireplace.
Her heart pounded with a mixture of excitement and a little bit of fear.
Yes, it was a game, but the flat, almost dangerous look in his eyes along with the barely concealed threat in his voice let her know Rhys was taking it seriously.
It put all her fight-or-flight instincts on high alert, and her eyes darted back and forth between the two entrances to the living room.
If he was going to catch her, he was going to have to earn it.
Movement to the right caught her eye, and she whipped her head toward it.
Rhys's shadow grew larger as he neared the doorway, and Rhett took off to the left.
She dashed through the kitchen and almost flew down the stairs to the condo's lower level.
She'd done some reconnaissance down there earlier and mapped out the best escape route.
The two bedrooms were connected by a bathroom, so she could wait in one room until he reached her then run through the bath and get away.
She skidded into the far bedroom and stopped, panting. By drawing deep breaths through her nose, she was able to slow her breathing, and more importantly, quiet it. She sidled nearer the door and peeked out the tiny opening between it and the doorjamb. Nothing.
Oh, come on. He had to have seen her run downstairs. Did he really think she'd just saunter back up and into his clutches? No, she told him he had to catch her, and she was sticking to it.
Just as she was about to get antsy, he came down the stairs, his movements almost leisurely. He hadn't even bothered to take off the jacket to his suit, and Rhett repressed a snort. If he thought she was easy prey, then he had another think coming.
Hands on hips, Rhys paused at the bottom of the stairs and looked around the large open sitting area.
His gaze fell on the door to the office, and he shook his head.
With a small, satisfied looking grin, he turned and surveyed the doors to the bedrooms. To Rhett's horror, he zeroed in on the far room and headed that way with a determined stride.
Shit! Had he seen her? Heart pounding at a furious pace, she backed on tiptoes toward the bathroom.
During her look around earlier, she opened both doors so she could dash right through if she had to.
And it looked like that would be the case.
Still staring at the bedroom door, she backed closer to the bathroom.
Expecting to see him enter the room any second, she took two more steps.
And backed right into the warm, hard body of Rhys James.
A shriek of surprise and, yes, a little terror tore from her throat, and she twisted away from the hands that gripped her hips.
She ran from the bedroom, his growl of frustration loud in her ears.
Forcing her trembling legs to climb, she made it up the stairs but stumbled to a halt in the foyer. Something was different.
After a moment, it hit her. His luggage was gone. Why did he take the time to put away his suitcases? And why was she wasting time worrying about it when he had to be right behind her?
She ran again, this time up the stairs to the master bedroom.
That thing was as big as the Taj Mahal, and she could find plenty of places to avoid him there.
She didn't pause at the top of the stairs but darted straight into the enormous walk-in closet.
A built-in dresser/accessory island sat in the middle, and it was behind this she crouched.
Her breaths were ragged in her own ears, and she tried to be quieter.
The game had taken on a real quality, and while she still wanted him to catch her, there was a part of her that was afraid to let him.
When several long minutes passed and nothing happened, she relaxed.
What the hell was wrong with her anyway?
It was Rhys, for God's sake, and when he caught her things were bound to get interesting.
She shook her head at her foolishness and stood up.
Of course, the game was still going on, so she crept from the closet as stealthily as she could.
Once in the bedroom, she glanced around. Her gaze passed over the grouping of chairs on the far side of the room, then snapped back at an object thrown over the arm of one. It was Rhys's charcoal gray suit jacket. She whirled to flee, and his arms clamped around her.
"Got'cha," he whispered, and tossed her on the bed.
Surprise turned her scream into a squeak, and Rhys laughed low in his throat.
"That's a new sound. I like that one." He climbed on the bed and straddled her, and his hands went to the bottom of her blouse.
"If you want to keep this, Beautiful, you'll raise your arms so I can take it off you. Otherwise, it's going to end up torn."
If she was being honest, the tearing it off her sounded incredibly hot. But since the blouse was new and she liked it, she raised her arms and let him remove it.
"Oh, my Christ," he moaned. "A white lace bra.
And a nice, sheer one, too." His thumbs brushed over her taut nipples, and she arched her back.
"I do hope you're wearing the matching knickers.
" He slid off the bed to his feet and opened her jeans.
Grabbing them by the hem, he yanked them off her.
"Oh yeah. Tiny, sexy little matching knickers. "
"Don't tear those, Rhys." She was thrilled with his reaction but wasn't sure of his mood. "They cost the earth."
"Don't worry. I wouldn't dream of tearing those. Roll over for me, love."