Chapter Twenty-Six
Rhys
I didn’t mean for my words to be prophetic in that godawful motel room.
I’m sorry that Max freaked out, but the benefit is that she’s clinging to me, her soft weight pressed against me.
This is a side of her I haven’t seen before, and I like the feeling of her in my arms. Although it’s something as silly as a cockroach, I want to keep her safe and the nightmares at bay.
Angelo returns with a big grin. “All done. And I managed to convince the front desk manager to give you half off. It’ll show up on your credit card statement.”
“Only half?” I ask, still holding her.
“He wanted to take one night’s stay off, saying everything was fine until now,” he says defensively. “I threatened to post the incident on Instagram, and he caved.”
“You have an Instagram account?” Max asks in surprise, although her face is still buried in my neck. Every time she speaks her breath tickles, sending a frisson through me.
“Nah.” Angelo grins. “I don’t even like taking selfies.”
Rolling my eyes, I jerk my chin at the door. Angelo opens it for us, and I help her into the car. She’s still trembling, and I reach out and link our hands. She squeezes back without a word, seeking comfort. I rub my thumb over the back of her hand, content that I can offer her solace.
Angelo gets behind the wheel and maneuvers the Cullinan through the L.A. traffic. After a while, he catches my eye in the rearview mirror. “Did you know roaches can live without their heads for over a week?”
“That’s such a lie,” I say, while Max shudders.
“No, it’s true! I saw it on a documentary. I watch ’em during downtime. Keeps me engaged.”
Engaged with what? I make a mental note to give him something to do while waiting for me. Like memorizing the latest HR manual. It’s even longer than before because Kaitlyn loves rules.
“I really didn’t need to know that,” Max mutters, her fingers flexing hard. “Now I’m going to dream about headless cockroaches coming for me.”
Angelo shrugs. “Just gotta outrun ’em. They die eventually because they can’t eat or drink. Horrible way to go, though. I’d be heartbroken if I couldn’t eat or drink.”
“Roaches don’t need your sympathy,” Max says.
“Ah, man, no need to be so cruel,” Angelo mumbles. He loves all living things, except those posing a danger to his employer. “Besides, Rhys will protect you, so why be so heartless?”
“I respect your love of bugs, but can’t share it.” She tightens her hand and moves a little closer.
I inhale her scent over the leather interior. She smells like honey and woman. Wonder if she tastes like it too. I didn’t get to sample the most intimate part of her that night. Thought I’d have a chance the next morning, except she ran.
Heat starts from the hand holding hers, then my dick gets hard. I shift a little to disguise my reaction, but Max notices. She tenses and raises her eyes to my face.
I shrug. “Biology.”
She lowers her voice. “Seriously?”
“If I don’t get hard around you, take me to see a doctor. Because I’ll be terminal.”
Her left eyebrow twitches, but the tip doesn’t pulse—an indication she’s amused and trying to hide it. If it visibly throbs, she’s losing her temper. “Happy, aren’t you?”
“Relieved I’ll live.”
This time she laughs, and finally relaxes.
The aerial roach encounter seems to vanish somewhere into her mind, because her eyes sparkle like well-polished emeralds.
The soft line of her mouth draws my attention.
I trace it with my eyes. The urge to steal a taste zings through me.
Angelo hasn’t raised the partition. I glance at him.
He’s distracted, trying to find a gap in traffic to make a left turn.
I swoop down and press my lips on hers, like stamping my possession on her.
She blinks. “What was that about?”
“Do I need a reason? I just wanted to,” I whisper.
Her eyes slide to Angelo, who’s still preoccupied with the turn to be made. “Is Angelo going to be the first to know? About us…” She mouths, Dating.
I shrug. “Up to you.”
She eyes me suspiciously. “You’re too accommodating. It’s scary.”
“I’m an easygoing guy.”
She scoffs. “You apparently don’t read your upward feedback.”
“Did you tell HR I was impossible?” Several indicated that meeting my expectations is difficult, if not impossible. Since I never expect more than they can deliver, it just means they can’t measure up.
“Ha. Nice try, but I’m not telling. It’s supposed to be anonymous.”
I take another quick glance at Angelo to make sure he’s still distracted, then place another quick kiss on her pouty mouth. Unrestrained elation buzzes in my veins. I haven’t felt like this since forever. Max has a magical ability to make me forget everything but us.
We reach the huge mansion I bought when I hit ten million with my own abilities.
White stone and marble makes up the exterior, with an enormous outdoor pool in the back.
A hip-high fence was installed after my gardener—who can’t swim—slipped and fell in.
Jasmine vines grow over it to give it a nice look.
“What’s that over there?” Max says, leaning closer to see through my window.
“A gazebo for picnics and barbecue parties.”
Her eyes widen. “You have time for that?”
“No. Cooking is Silas’s thing. It just came with the house.”
Angelo stops the Cullinan in front of the main entrance. The two fourteen-foot-tall wooden doors look medieval, but it has top-of-the-line security. “Hey, can you grab Max’s car and bring it over?” I ask him.
“Sure thing.”
Max hands him the fob, and he disappears. I place my thumb over the biometric scanner by the door. There’s a heavy click, and the door unlocks. “I’ll enter your information tonight. And we can grab your things from the car once we decide on the specifics of the living arrangements.”
She nods.
“Let me give you a quick tour.” I pull her into the foyer. The skylight lets in the last remaining bit of orange sunlight before the sun vanishes below the horizon, turning the clear crystals on the chandelier golden.
Max looks up. “That’s really pretty.”
I follow her gaze, then frown. The place never made much of an impression on me. It’s a house I bought because it had the right zip code and fit my needs. But… I tilt my head, looking at her bathed in the golden light. “Yes. Yes, it is.”
“And gardenias. My favorite!” She smiles at the vases full of fragrant white flowers in the wall niches.
I nod like I’m the mastermind behind the floral scheme, even though it’s Frederich and his people’s doing. Flowers are flowers. Didn’t even know those were called gardenias. They look like white roses, nothing special.
Still, it was worth the money to see the sparkle in Max’s eyes. My heart throbs oddly in my chest as she buries her nose in a blossom. I pluck it out of the short vase and tuck it behind her ear. “There. Even prettier,” I say, looking into her eyes.
She flushes, her fingertips carefully brushing the soft petals. Sheer happiness glimmers in her eyes as she gazes up at me.
Her eyes ensnare me, and I can’t look away. My heart pounds louder in my ears. For some inexplicable reason, I wish I could see her freckles and the deeper flush without the makeup covering everything. I want to mess up the perfect lip gloss on her mouth—
Taking off my glasses and tossing them onto a chair, I kiss her.
A fine tremor runs through her as she parts her lips.
She wraps her hand around the back of my neck, as though she’s afraid I’ll pull away before she gets her fill.
Every time she flexes her hand, her fingers dig into my muscles, reminding me of Tokyo, when she clung to me.
I lick her lips. Whether it’s from the lip gloss or something else, she tastes like spiced sugar. Her breath fans my oversensitive, eager mouth. A soft whimper—and her tongue flicks out and taps my lips. I smile at her impatient, overt need.
My tongue glides inside her mouth. She tastes so sweet, her response unrestrained as she fuses her mouth with mine.
My head buzzes at the shallow sound of her breathing.
I push her back until she’s pressed against a wall, my hands on each side of her rosy face.
I cage her as though to never let go. She arches, her breasts pushing against my chest. Hot, tingling sensations start from where we touch, and overheated blood rushes to my dick until it aches.
But more than that, I want to taste her thoroughly.
I push the hem of her dress up, stroking the soft curve of her pelvis and waist. She whimpers, the sound shaky. I push myself against her sweet belly. She trembles, her stance growing unsteady.
My hand climbs higher until I reach her bra. The cup is cut low. I dip my thumb inside the lacy cup and flick the hard, pointed nipple.
She moans, the soft vibration tingling my mouth. Her knees buckle. I catch her, her sweet ass filling my palm, making my overheated blood roar in my head.
Her breathing is rougher, and her pulse flutters rapidly as the deep flush creeps up her chest, neck and cheeks, making her vulnerable and beautiful.
She hooks a leg around my hip for better access.
I continue to tease her nipple with my thumb, while licking my way down her neck and nibbling on her delicate collarbone.
Her fingers dig into my flesh, her hot core rocking against me.
I groan against her fevered skin, every cell in my body desperate for her.
The urgent need burns hotter in my belly every time she moans, the erotic sound hitting me like a dose of aphrodisiac. I can’t believe how easily she gets under my skin, stoking my desire.
I push the dress all the way up over her head. The sight of her in a stunning set of black lace demi bra and thong is like being hit with a wrecking ball. She looks like a perfect, sensual gift, wrapped up just for me.
Her eyes narrow to slits, glittering with a heightened lust as she looks at me.
Intense possessiveness grips my heart—mine.
I pull a nipple into my mouth, sucking hard.
She throws her head back, her leg moving restlessly, her hips shifting as she rocks, trying to find the most pleasurable stimulation.
I let her move against me as much as she wants.
“Please,” she breathes. “Oh my God.”
I take the other nipple, teasing the wet tip with my fingers, pinching it between my index and middle fingers. Her back is as taut as a drawn bow. A strangled cry catches in her throat. The feverish intensity of need blazes in her gaze.
“Freckles, tell me what you want,” I whisper against the valley between her breasts, pressing long, lingering kisses.
“I don’t know. Anything you want to do. Just…anything,” she pleads.
I hook a finger on the elastic of her thong and pull it down to her knees. “Step out.”
She manages to obey despite quivering legs.
“Good girl.” I kiss the slope of her breast.
She reaches for my belt, but I take half a step back. She raises her eyes, a question burning in them.
“We aren’t doing that.”
“Wh-what? You can’t stop after getting me all worked up,” she protests, as though I just told her I’m taking away her favorite toy.
I laugh softly at her unvarnished greed. “Who said anything about stopping?”
I slowly drop to one knee, leaving a trail of wet kisses from her breastbone all the way to her belly.
Her stomach muscles jerk, her breathing shallowing.
She leans forward, bracing her hands on my shoulders.
Her breathing hitches, her entire body trembling, caught somewhere between anticipation and hesitation.
I run my hand down her soft inner thigh. “Relax, Freckles. You’re beautiful.” I press a kiss to her pubic bone and inhale. “And you smell amazing.”
Her fingers dig deeper into my frame. I drop my other knee and lift my eyes so I can look into hers as she gazes down. They’re dark with desire but also flash with a hint of apprehension. Her throat works as she swallows and runs her tongue over her lower lip.
“It’s going to be good, I promise.” I close my mouth over her, swiping my tongue along her folds like she’s the most delicious treat in the world.
Her fingers tunnel into my hair. They tense, making my scalp sting a little. I love the slight pain, reveling in her every response. She trembles like a flower caught in a storm. She’s so wet and sweet, and I lap her up. I can’t get enough. She’s driving me crazy.
She begins to pant, her arms and legs taut and shaking, and then something snaps inside her.
She lets out a low groan and moves her pelvis against my face, shamelessly chasing her orgasm.
Triumph surges in my chest like a tsunami at her loss of control.
She chants my name as though it’s the only thing keeping her anchored.
My tongue moves over her swollen, quivering clit. She rocks faster and faster, and I grip her hips hard to give her stability. Then her entire body tenses and she screams. Finally, when her breathing settles, she slides down the wall into a well-satisfied puddle at my feet.
“What was that about?” she says, still breathless.
I grin. “Welcome home,” I say.
Her eyes drop to my still hard, throbbing length. She bites her lip, her lashes fluttering, then reaches down—
The security alarm beeps.