26. Right to Remain Horny
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
RIGHT TO REMAIN HORNY
LUNA
Iwas going to kill Rhys.
That was probably the wrong mindset to have when I was supposed to be protecting him. But even that was likely coming to a glorious end—thank God.
After nearly two weeks of prep and undercover work, I was ready to go back to my normal life. One that would hopefully include Harlow and Piper. And Ophelia. I really liked her.
I was ready to have downtime that was actually relaxing. I’d spent my two days off from Rye still thinking about it from both job perspectives. Possibilities with the case. Brushing up on my drink recipes. I’d also spent a fair amount of time checking the alerts, tracker, and cameras.
I was ready to stop being touched and kissed like Rhys had the right to do either.
And I was extra ready to stop holding my tongue in the name of professionalism and the assignment.
Rhys was mocking me.
Because he would not leave me alone.
Don’t get me wrong. I was doing my job. I was doing both of my jobs, and I was doing them damn well, thank you very much.
But neither of them involved him having to touch me so much. He didn’t have to flash me his charming, dimpled smile for it to always twist into a smirk. Like he was so damn amused at the unbelievability of dating me.
A smirk that said the whole relationship wasn’t just fake.
It was a joke.
And I was the punchline.
Somehow, Rhys knew I was teetering on the edge. He chose that moment to place an unnecessary hand on my lower back—so low, in fact, it was partially on my ass—as he slid behind me to grab a can of seltzer from the cooler.
I shifted away.
He moved closer.
I fled, going to check on a customer at the far end who I knew didn’t need anything. I gave him napkins anyway.
And then I turned to see Rhys had followed and was standing in my space.
All up in my space.
Ignoring him, I moved to the side, but he put one hand on the shelf behind me to block my path. That was annoying enough, but he took it further by stooping to touch my thigh.
No.
Not just touch.
He squeezed it a couple of times as he smirked. Taunting me.
I kept my voice low and a smile plastered on my face because I was good at my job.
To anyone watching—and I knew they were—we looked like we were having a moment.
But there was nothing flirty about my threat.
“If you touch my leg one more time, I will gleefully tear your third leg from your body and use it as a garnish.”
He gave an exaggerated wince that twisted into another cruel smirk. “All for you touching it, hellcat.”
My stomach sank as I was metaphorically dropkicked off that edge I’d been trying to stay on.
Rhys scanned my face, and his amusement died. “My office.”
“Can’t. Stuff to do.”
It was a lie. The Thursday night crowd had died down. Chuck had the bar covered. Three servers had the rest of the tables.
Technically, one had them covered while the other two seemed to be shooting pleading eyes Rhys’s way—like they were telepathically urging him to make cuts.
“Now,” he ordered with his focus locked on my face.
My blank face.
“Don’t like to repeat myself,” he added when I didn’t move.
I said nothing as I stared him down. But then he reached to touch me, and I couldn’t.
I just couldn’t.
Dodging his hand, I rounded the bar and went to his office while he followed closely. I knew what people would think we were off to do.
I need to make this fast so they think he finished in under a minute.
I smiled at the thought.
As soon as we were closed in the office, he demanded, “What’s going on?”
I didn’t speak as I grabbed his shirt at his chest and tugged him away from the door in case anyone was listening.
It was a safe bet they were.
Even with the distance, I kept my voice quiet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit.”
“It’s not.”
“Something’s wrong.”
Oh hell, he thinks it’s something to do with the case.
“Everything is fine,” I reassured. “There’s been nothing to suggest this was anything more than a coincidence. I’m betting I’ll be pulled soon.”
It was honestly surprising I hadn’t already. There were far better uses of my time and department resources.
His eyes narrowed. “Do you suspect me of something?”
Of being a jerk, yes.
“No,” I said instead. “I obviously had to look into the possibility, but no one works this hard and cares this much about their successful business just to risk it.”
“Then I don’t give a fuck about the case. I wanna know why the fuck you’re so locked down now.”
I didn’t feel like getting into a pointless discussion about things that didn’t matter. I wanted to get back out there and do my jobs.
“I’m not,” I lied.
“Bullshit.”
“I’m just working.”
“Bullshit,” he repeated, harsher that time. “You give that smile to everyone else. You laugh with them. Chat with them. I barely get three words. The only smiles I get are forced. And you bolt every time I get near. What’d I do to piss you off so bad?”
I’d always prided myself on my ability to keep my cool, but at his nerve, I came close to snapping.
Actually, I came close to throwing something at his head and storming out.
That wasn’t an option. But I could make the best of the awkward situation so the few days I likely had left undercover weren’t akin to Hell.
“You ignore me just as much,” I pointed out. “I know this whole thing has been a waste of our time, but it’s almost done. You’ll be rid of your shadow soon. Just don’t touch my damn thighs anymore. That’s all I’m asking.”
“No.”
I reared back at the firm word that sounded more like its own demand. “What?”
“No.”
“I didn’t ask a question.”
“Sayin’ no anyway.”
Deep breaths.
Calm.
“Okay, you do that, Sir,” I said with a petty jab that probably hurt me more than it annoyed him. “I’m going back to work.”
Disgust twisted his features—and, God, that definitely hurt far worse. “Don’t do that shit.”
I gave him a taste of his own bitter medicine and doubled down with a touch of dramatics. “Whatever you say, Sir.”
Calm down. You vented enough pressure to stop from completely exploding. Now go, dummy.
I turned to leave, but his hand encircled my wrist, and he spun me back.
“Let me go,” I said.
“Not till you talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m just trying to do my damn job.”
His voice was bite and smoke and a challenge, all rolled into one. “That’s it?”
“That’s it,” I confirmed.
I thought he would let me go. I needed him to.
So of course he didn’t.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, he really showcased his inner bastard by doing the one thing I’d asked him not to.
His free hand spanned my thigh. “Does this feel like just doing your job?”
“No. It feels like you’re a giant tool who thinks it’s unbelievable to date me and the height of hilarity to squeeze my thighs.”
His head snapped back like I’d slapped him. “The fuck?”
“But if you keep it up, we’re gonna have a problem. Let me rephrase.” I pointed up at him. “You’re gonna have a problem.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? Why would it be unbelievable? And why the hell would I think touching you is funny?”
“Hey, unbelievable was a direct quote, straight from your mouth,” I snapped. I was already angry, but the fact he was the kind of man who would resort to gaslighting really set me off.
Mostly because it managed to surprise and disappoint me.
“And it’s clear you think it’s so funny,” I continued, “because you smirk every time you do it. Now let me go.”
“Once you tell me why you think something so asinine.”
“Let. Me. Go.”
“Why, Lo?”
Badgering like that was an effective interrogation technique that I didn’t appreciate being used against me.
Especially since it worked.
I had the control to keep my volume to barely above a whisper, but every last word spewed out of me even as the smart part of my brain screamed that I had the right to remain silent, and I should exercise that right.
“Because you said it was unbelievable to call me your girlfriend. And you’re right.
It is unbelievable. It’s all an act. I’m not confused about that.
But there’s no reason to be cruel about it when all I want is to do my job.
And there’s no reason to fuckin’ smirk every damn time you squeeze my fat fuckin’ thigh. ”
“Thigh’s not fat.”
All I said, and that’s what he comes back with? A lie about the physical?
“Save it,” I said. “I’ve got eyes. I buy my own clothes. I know my legs aren’t dainty.”
“Never said they were.”
Ouch.
How can an agreement hurt my feelings?
I heard worse from the people I apprehended, the people I helped, the men in my precinct, and anytime I walked by a scary, mean-girl teenager. I never had to work to block out their commentary because it never bothered me.
I did have thick hips and thighs. There were times I disliked them, but that was before the academy.
Thanks to the muscles within that thickness, my height wasn’t as big of a disadvantage as it could’ve been.
I was able to catch up to runners, get myself over a fence with ease, and stay upright in a rowdy crowd.
Beyond the functionality, the curves offered balance because I also had big breasts.
I had a thinner waist from staying active, but with a soft little curve at the bottom of my belly that made me feel like one of those lush, feminine models from classic art.
There were paintings and statues that someone spent an inordinate amount of time and energy on to ensure those curves were emphasized enough.
Why would I be embarrassed when I would’ve been celebrated in the seventeenth century?
Yet for whatever reason, Rhys’s slights got under my skin. Why did I even care?
But I already knew.
Because it was him.
I didn’t want him to be just another douchebag in a sea of many. At the same time, I had no right to those expectations. I also had no right to be bothered when he didn’t meet them.
The rest of my anger was zapped from my body, leaving me embarrassed and exhausted.
Worse than that, failure hung over my head like my own personal acid rain cloud. It was my first time undercover, and I’d bombed at staying detached.
It was a lesson learned—and one I wouldn’t need repeated—but it still sucked.
“Okay, cool. We’re in agreement.” I flashed a grin, not letting in a single glimmer of my real emotions. “We better get back out there.”
I wasn’t sure if I was turning into a shitty actor, or Rhys had more than two brain cells rubbing together and was smart enough to catch on that what he’d said was rude.
Either way, his hold on my wrist tightened to one step below painful—or one step below earning a punch to the dick—and he continued talking.
“Your thighs aren’t sticks, but they’re also not fat.
They’re muscular and soft. So fuckin’ soft.
” The description could’ve been taken as an insult, but the reverent tone made it clear it was the opposite.
He backed it up by dropping his voice and asking, “Did it ever enter your stubborn head that I smile when I touch ‘em because I like it? And ’cause I thought you liked it, too.”
I wanted to believe him. God, did I want to believe him.
But that didn’t negate the other two points that’d come straight from the horse’s ass—er, mouth.
“Oh, sure, that must be it,” I said with a hefty amount of exaggerated happiness. “It’s just unbelievable, Sir.”
He loosened his grip while simultaneously moving my hand closer. Giving me the chance to stop him. I didn’t. He used his hold to graze my hand against his cock.
His hard cock.
Holy shit.
His voice was rough. “Does this feel like I don’t like it?”
“Maybe.”
Since I hadn’t snatched my hand away, screamed, or tried to detach his erection from his body, he pressed my palm harder against him. “What about this is a maybe?”
“Maybe it’s a hate-boner.”
He chuckled, and even that sounded like gravel and honey. “It’s not.”
Like he needed to emphasize, underline, and bold that point, he ground my palm up his length. And I did mean up. The incredibly thick and impossibly long erection was restrained by his waistband as it stretched up his stomach.
For a brief second, I seriously thought it was fake. That was how unreal it seemed. But then he groaned, and the shaft jerked against my touch.
I wanted to make both happen again.
I didn’t get the chance.
Rhys shifted my hand and his own body away—and I didn’t want to think about how long I would’ve stood there if he hadn’t—but he didn’t release his hold on me.
Instead, he bluntly laid it all out. “It’s unbelievable that you’d date an old fuck like me.
Christ, I figured this whole thing would implode the first day ’cause no one would buy it.
I keep my distance ’cause you’re here to do your job, and I’ve got no business sniffing around you.
I touch you ’cause I fuckin’ suck at remembering that last point. Does that answer all your questions?”
“Almost.”
“What’d I miss?”
“We should have sex.”