Chapter Twenty #2
A full-body shiver quaked through her. She couldn’t ignore the way her stomach clenched. The corners of his eyes tightened as he watched her run her fingers along the white comforter.
“You think I’m naive, don’t you?”
He shook his head. “Never said that.”
“Sheltered?”
His eyebrows rose. “Not sheltered, but…” He shrugged and pushed off the wall. “You’re thirty-five years old and blush at the sight of condoms.”
“That was a jug of condoms. My parents, by virtue of being in the business, knew there were two ways we could go. Wild or protected. They were always strict. Then after everything happened…” Rhys would understand she meant Jordan Everett.
“I was so dumb about men. I didn’t date a lot.
” Jules pinned her eyes to the wall behind him so she didn’t have to meet his gaze.
“The experiences were just blah.” She half-laughed.
“I even talked to Abigail about it a lot. Maybe I don’t like guys.
Maybe I’m like her, and I…” She blushed, tucking her chin. “But no. I like men.”
“Never crossed my mind that you didn’t.”
She liked him. Had she always compared every man to him?
Rhys Callaghan towered over her. He had sinewy, corded muscles, and thick veins ran down his arms. He had broad shoulders and strong arms that had carried her so many times, like when she lost her footing, when she almost fell, and when she couldn’t muster the strength to shoulder on under the weight of expectation and examination.
“Maybe the problem with so-so… is me.”
Rhys strode closer. His hands locked on her hips, and turning her, he walked her into the bathroom. “Doubtful,” he said against the shell of her ear.
He kissed her again.
Kissing this man was unlike anything she’d known, when every kiss had been the same. It wasn’t like they’d used up their magic. His tongue slid into her mouth. The tension fled her shoulders. Need spiraled in her core, pulsing between her legs.
“You okay?” he asked, his lips softly teasing her before he inched back, waiting for her answer.
No one had ever looked at her the way he did. Everyone wanted something. Maybe that was how she looked at them too. But she and Rhys didn’t have that quid-pro-quo connection required in Hollywood. “Completely.”
He pushed her hair behind her ears, touching her like she was fragile, like no one had ever really seen who she was, and now that he had, he was keeping a secret from the world. “What do you want to do?”
Did he want her to go to bed with him right now? She could do that. We could… Her pulse picked up.
“Let’s go swimming,” he said, as if knowing she was on the edge of spiraling into a panic.
“My swimsuit isn’t here.” None of her belongings were. Though they should arrive any minute.
He eyed her gauzy pants and white linen blouse. “What do you have under there?”
Jules blushed. “Not much.”
“You’ll figure something out.” His midnight eyes flared, and Rhys pulled his shirt over his head.
God. This man. Carved and sculpted, he stood before her, letting her drink in the hard planes of his chest and the rippled muscles of his stomach.
Fifteen years, she’d known him. Fifteen years, she’d seen his body grow from the gym-earned muscles of a twenty-something to the hard-cut muscles of a man.
“Come on.” He laced his fingers with hers, as was his custom, and led her outside, through the sliding glass door in their bedroom to the patio overlooking their infinity pool.
Rhys unbuttoned his shorts and unzipped them then let them fall to his bare feet. His dark boxer briefs curved over him like they’d been custom-fitted for his powerful thighs, his muscled backside, and the length of his thick cock.
Again, he let her drink him in as though she’d never seen a real man before.
“Okay?” he asked.
“Sure,” she said, breathless, feeling her body turn to liquid. She was unsure whether she could handle more of him before her legs gave out. “Are you getting naked?” Could she sound any more uptight and prudish? Probably not.
He smirked. “Not yet.”
That mouth on him might kill her. That mouth on her . God. That was what she wanted. An instant blush shot from the tips of her toes to the top of her head.
“C’mere.” His hands found their place on her hips again, and Rhys walked them out of the shadow of the bungalow, into the warm glow of sunshine.
On each side of them, protective hedges and a fence taller than the bungalow blocked them from the neighbors.
Straight ahead was the infinity pool that transitioned into the ocean of turquoise and aquamarine.
“Are you going to get in?” she asked.
“Are you?”
She nodded.
“Good.” Rhys released her, walked to the far side, dived in, and stroked under the water until he glided to the far corner against the ocean, then he rested his arms on the edges. “It’s perfect.”
A beautiful man perched against a beautiful world.
She couldn’t imagine anything more inviting.
Her fingers trembled as she unfastened the buttons of her linen shirt.
The fabric slid down her arms as he watched, mesmerized.
Her heartbeat thundered as she unfastened the drawstring of her pants and let the gauzy fabric pile at her feet.
In her bra and underwear, she’d never been more vulnerable. Never felt more desired.
He stole her breath and wasn’t even close enough to reach. He was just watching, like he had all the time in the world and intended to use every second of it.
Jules walked to the spot he’d dived from and did the same. The cool water ran over her hot skin, and she swam straight to him then surfaced, wiping her eyes. She treaded water an arm’s length from him.
He held back, waiting, seeming to give her that moment to decide what came next. Because he would always keep her safe. He always had, even if she’d completely changed everything between them.
Jules smiled with permission, and Rhys snaked an arm to her, bringing her close. That was all it took, like he could read her mind. Their mouths crashed together as her arms wrapped around his neck.
One of his arms held them against the corner.
The other held her close. Her legs tangled with his.
The hair on his legs rubbed over her smooth skin.
She clung to his hard body, pressed to the dips and grooves of his muscles, which had been earned through power and effort, not sculpted in some fancy California gym.
Her lips parted. His tongue probed. His hand slid down her back and squeezed her butt until she gasped, moaning into his mouth. Jules couldn’t feel enough of him. She couldn’t be closer than her body needed.
His mouth skipped to her jaw then licked down her neck to her collarbone, and his hand ran up again and threaded into her hair, as he’d done in the bedroom.
He tugged. Jules arched, giving him her neck, bowing into him, pressing for more friction from his tongue, his teeth, from the hard erection pressing against her in the water below.
Every time they kissed, it was better, her need hungrier, the craving for him more intense. He released her hair and skimmed his hand over the back of her bra, asking before undressing her, somehow turning it into a tease that had her squirming against him.
“Please.” Her thighs gripped his hips. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, basking in the warm sun-kissed air as his fingers unclasped her bra, baring her breasts as it sank to the bottom of the pool.
He hoisted her higher, lifting her out of the water, and dropped his mouth to her hard nipple. She moaned as he sucked hard, his tongue lapping over the tip, his teeth scraping just enough that her pussy quaked as sensation streaked through her like a rocket to her core.
Rhys kissed and licked her other breast. A groan of satisfaction shook through her as he wrapped his mouth around her nipple again.
Her fingers dug into his hair, tugging the strands as he sucked and licked and sucked again. “God, Rhys.” She struggled for more of him. “I’m done swimming.” She needed out of the pool and into bed. “I need…”
He let her slide down him, and her breasts dipped into the water. The cool sensation was a wild juxtaposition from his hot mouth. Her nipples scratched against his smattering of dark chest hair.
“What do you need?” he asked.
She didn’t have words.
Rhys pushed from the wall, capturing her against him, and swam toward the shallow water that lapped against the patio. “Don’t move.”
He left her sitting in only a few inches of water and walked to the side of the patio where inflated rafts and floating mats waited for use. He snagged one that looked like a thick yoga mat and tossed it onto the water by her side.
“I thought we were going inside,” she said.
“We will.” He nodded toward the mat. “Scoot your ass over.”
Her eyebrows arched, but she obeyed. Rhys covered her with his body, kissing her mouth as the mat cushioned her from the bottom of the pool. His tongue trailed down her jaw, then her neck. Her head tipped back as his mouth worked lower.
They were barely out of the water. It lapped at her sides, barely splashing over her stomach as he moved lower and lower, bypassing her breasts and lavishing kisses over her stomach, nipping and biting her until he reached her hip.
The sexiest man she’d ever laid hands on ran his tongue over her skin, watching her react to the way he touched her.
She nodded. “Please.”
He propped against her side. “Please what?”
“Rhys.”
He tugged his bottom lip into his mouth, a delicious, devilish grin toying with his smile, which could singe the fabric off her body.
“Touch me.”
Pulling one side of her underwear over her hip, he kissed, never moving his dark eyes from hers. His tongue slid toward her apex but drew short, and he worked his way back to her hip.
“Lift up,” he said.
Every part of her body sang. She raised her butt, and he snagged the wet fabric down her legs, down her ankles, and with a hitched smile, he tossed the panties over his shoulder.