Chapter Thirty-One
The closer they drove to Rhys’s home, the tighter the band around his chest cinched.
The streets funneled them through the idyllic neighborhood to the outskirts, where the hilly space between the houses grew.
The sun shimmered through green leaves, trees arching over the road.
Shadows and sunlight danced over them as they drove.
He eased off the gas to turn onto his property, and Clyde howled.
“Guess he’s happy to be home.”
Part of Rhys also wanted to howl. Bringing Jules into his home would fundamentally shift his worldview. She was no longer the client. This was as real as he could be with her. He could ask her to stay.
Another part of him was realistic. She could live anywhere in the world, and her house— her mansion —topped the list of the most beautiful places he’d set foot in.
Ignoring the problems with the public, her life was golden.
She had staff and chefs and personal trainers.
An entire industry worshipped her every move. All he could do was worship her.
It was something he had to be aware of. Big conversations needed to happen.
They rumbled up the wooded driveway, and the rustic house opened into view.
Clyde launched into the grass as Rhys parked. He zoomed around the truck until Jules called his name, smacking her hands on her thighs. He raced to her and threw himself at her feet.
“I think my dog loves you.”
She let Clyde cover her with licks. “Same, Clyde. Same.”
This woman was doing a number on him. He rubbed his sternum and the pressure in his chest.
“Didn’t know Clyde was such a slut for attention,” Rhys joked.
Jules laughed as she stood, taking his hand. He pulled her close to his chest.
“Are you jealous of your dog?” she teased.
Yeah. Apparently, he was. “Can’t spoil him too much.”
“Of course we can.” She pushed to the tips of her toes, still laughing as her lips barely brushed his mouth.
Yup. He was falling harder and harder with every piece of her fitting perfectly in his life. He stole a kiss then walked toward the truck for her luggage.
“I’m sorry I packed so much.”
“You’re acting like I haven’t traveled with you for more than a third of my lifespan. I know how much you pack.”
She gave him a funny look. “A third of your life?”
“Fifteen out of forty.”
“I never thought about it like that before.” Jules hummed. Her funny face transitioned into something more devious. “Fifteen out of thirty-five. I’ve known you almost half my life.”
“If you round.”
“That’s a long time not to know you can do that thing with your tongue.”
He smirked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’ll just shout it out next time it happens. ‘This, right here. Yup. This is the move, stud. Mark it in your memory.’”
Mark it in his memory. Christ. “Stud?”
“You know you’re a stud. Abigail announced it to St. Barts, remember?” Jules picked her way up the stone path. “If I’d imagined where you’d live, it would have looked like this.”
He unlocked the door and let her in then put his keys on the hook by the door. He didn’t care about the house and wanted to know exactly which thing with his tongue she was talking about.
She examined the living room, taking a slow lap around its perimeter and studying every part of it as though she were absorbing information about him. “You have a lot of space.”
“Clyde needs his room to romp.”
Her gaze swept over the leather couches and sturdy end tables, which an interior designer had once promised would say “masculine yet not bachelor.” “I like your style.”
“I haven’t thought of the décor since the day I paid the lady Vivian told me to use.
” He’d needed function and comfort. Check and check.
His home existed solely to recharge his batteries and to have friends over.
Until now, he’d never considered what they might think. Now, he wondered what she thought.
“It’s unexpected.” She bit her lip. “Sometimes, it feels like I don’t know you at all. Then it feels like I know you more than anyone else.”
Maybe she hadn’t known Rhys owned a dog or a truck or had an interior designer furnish his place, but they knew each other—mostly. He took her into the large kitchen and lifted her onto the island counter, stepping between her legs and hiking her thighs around him.
Her head tilted, and the long drape of her hair fell over her shoulder. Her dark-green eyes danced, scrutinizing his face. “How long do I get to stay here?”
“As long as you want.” He squeezed her hips and brought her to the counter’s edge.
A shy smile toyed on her lips. He’d never seen anything like it—hesitation and hope wrapped into uncertainty. “What does that mean?”
Every fiber of his existence vibrated with the need to keep her here, in his house and in his bed. To possess her, to claim her. It was an unfamiliar sensation, but one he didn’t want to ignore.
He licked his bottom lip as he took shallow breaths that made his chest ache. “Simple. I want you here. You call the shots. If you have to go—” When she had to go. “Then you go.”
But they were in this la-la fantasy land where he could pretend she was his woman, and his home was where she stayed. Fucking her last night had fundamentally rewired his brain. Tasting her had remapped his nervous system. Rhys had blinked and fallen for her. He was all in.
“Will you go back to California with me?” she asked.
“If you need me to, then yeah, I’m there.”
“You’re talking about work,” she said.
He flexed his fingers into her waist. Everything was a tangle. Them. Work. What they’d faked to the world. What they’d found when they were alone. He didn’t have the words for what he actually meant. So he gave her the only answer he could and slanted his mouth over hers.
If he could taste her, touch her, he’d explain everything that needed to be shared.
Jules couldn’t foresee the future. When Rhys slid his tongue into her mouth and down her neck, she stopped needing to.
He tugged off her shirt and buried his face in the valley between her breasts.
The scruff on his cheeks rasped over the soft lace of her bra.
The pebbled tips of her nipples reached for him, and he licked over the fabric.
She squirmed, unfastening the bra and making her breasts spill for his attention.
Bracing her palms on the counter, she dropped her head back. He moved from one mound to the other, massaging what he didn’t nip and lick. Her core tightened, arousal pooling.
“Lean back. Lift up.” Rhys scooted her ass back.
“I—”
He pushed her farther onto the island. “Lift your ass, baby.”
“Don’t you have a bed?”
The sexy smirk on his lips sent goose bumps rocketing down her spine. “No better place to eat than in a kitchen.”
An instant blush tore into her cheeks. “That mouth is going to give me a heart attack.”
He laughed, his broad shoulders shaking. “That’s not all it’s going to give you. Lift your sweet ass up and slide these down.” He tugged on her shorts. “Before I tear them off you.”
She lifted.
The granite island was cold against her bottom as her shorts and lace thong dropped to the hardwood floor. “You’re unbelievably—” He stole her breath with a wet swipe of his tongue. “God, Rhys. That’s the thing. Your tongue. I’m going to die.”
He smiled against her clit and wrapped a forearm under her butt, angling her as he leaned over. His tongue swiped and rolled over her again.
“Dying…” Her eyes rolled back. Her hair splayed over the island. She draped her hands over her face. A light sweat heated down her back. “On your counter.”
His laughter vibrated against her pussy. “Want to move to the kitchen table next?”
She arched, groaning something that should have sounded like “What a great idea” but came out “Oh God.”
His tongue circled her clit so damn slowly. Jules needed more yet had to escape. She fought his hold, begging him to never let her go. There wasn’t a chance he would. Thank God.
His hand clamped on her hip, buckling her to his face. His tongue pushed into her body.
“ Rhys .”
In and out, he took her with his mouth as his fingers danced over her clit. Her body clenched, and her muscles trembled as he devoured her. In and out, around and around, tightening her until she wanted to scream.
Jules buried her fingers in his thick hair, desperately climbing toward a climax. “God. Please.”
Like an answer to her prayers, the orgasm slammed into her. Her hips bucked. Rhys dragged the euphoria out as it thundered through her, ricocheting to every last nerve ending like a lightning strike of white-hot bliss.
He pulled away, and desperation clawed at her body. She could barely breathe but hadn’t had enough… couldn’t have enough. Not of this man, not of the way he held her, fucked her, loved, and cared for her.
Her chest heaved, and with her eyes still closed, she breathed, “I need you inside me.”
He tossed his phone and wallet onto the counter. The sound of his zipper being drawn down shocked her back to reality, and she pressed onto her elbows. His eyes raked over her sprawled on the kitchen island as though he’d never seen something he wanted more.
Her heart squeezed, and her sex trembled.
Rhys sheathed himself with a condom then lifted her, spun her around, and bent her over the counter. “Spread your legs.”
She did, arching for him.
His cock pressed against her entrance, and he reached around and stroked her orgasm-swollen clit. With long, deep moves, he sank into her. “Baby,” he breathed against her neck, burying his face in her hair. “Fuck.”
She was so close again.
The pads of his fingertips stroked her clit faster, matching the mind-scrambling thrusts of his length. “Come for me again.”
As if she had a choice. Jules shattered again, her tender flesh quivering as he drove into her spasming canal.
He gripped her hips, flexing his fingers into her flesh. His hot body pressed her against the counter, her breasts sliding on the cold granite each time he thrust. Her hands splayed on the island, her fingers fruitlessly digging on the smooth surface.
Again, he coaxed her closer to orgasm. She clawed the counter as the climax rolled over her. He didn’t stop pumping. Ecstasy flooded her blood, and Rhys groaned her name. He pulsed inside her until his body shivered and stilled, his breath laboring.
Then he relaxed, still catching his breath, and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.
Carefully, he slid from her and turned her around. “You’re…” The hint of a sated, lazy smile tugged on his lips. “Everything.”