Chapter 21 #2
I try to distract myself with the menu, which has changed since I was here last. I’m just trying to figure out which the healthiest option would be when I feel Rhys’s hand on my knee.
He doesn’t look at me, just keeps analysing his menu.
His hand is warm on my chilled skin, and it occurs to me that this should feel comforting. So why does it feel more like a threat?
“You having the Caesar salad?” he asks, giving my knee a little squeeze.
“Yeah, I think so.” I try to hide my disappointment.
Everything on the menu looks incredible and, knowing Connor’s skill in the kitchen, I’m sure it would taste divine.
But delicious food is usually cooked in butter and covered with a rich sauce, which means they’re not an option for me.
“I’ll ask for the dressing on the side.”
Rhys leans towards me and whispers, “Good girl.” He kisses my cheek and runs his hand a little higher up my leg, half of it now hidden by my dress. The combination of earning Rhys’s rare praise and his hand on my bare thigh makes me tingle between my legs.
The waiter, the same one who served me last time, takes our order, and Rhys’s hand remains on me the entire time.
“So, have you thought anymore about my offer?” Rhys asks as he takes a sip of his beer with his free hand.
“What offer?”
“To make you a plan for the gym? You’re doing so well with your diet, but that’s only half of it. You need to burn off all that fat, and now that school’s finished, you have the time.”
I was hoping he’d forgotten about this part of the plan.
The thought of going to a gym, particularly one where he’s slept with several of the members, gives me palpitations.
I’ve also been feeling lightheaded a lot since reducing my food allowance, so exercising sounds even more hellish than usual.
But I’m determined to make a change this time, however gruelling it may be.
“Okay,” I say half-heartedly. “I’ll go. You tell me what to do and I’ll do it, no matter what.”
“That might be the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Rhys leans towards me once more, this time kissing my neck. I think it’s just going to be a quick peck, but he keeps kissing and nuzzling, holding my attention there so I don’t notice his hand moving until it’s completely under my dress.
“Rhys!” I gasp as his fingers brush between my thighs. I feel my skin burning with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. I try to bat his hands away without drawing attention to myself, but he keeps going regardless.
“Shh, you’ll draw attention,” he says against my neck. With one last kiss, he sits upright and smiles at me, the picture of innocence, but his fingers continue to explore.
Despite my embarrassment and nervousness about getting caught, I feel myself getting wet as he strokes me.
He uses feather-light touches to tease me enough to make me blush crimson but doesn’t go any further.
I grab my glass of wine and take a huge gulp, desperate for something to cool me down.
Rhys smirks when his fingers find the moisture between my legs.
“You enjoying this, Muffin?” he asks, spreading my arousal over my exposed skin.
“Please stop,” I breathe. I’m mortified that this is happening to me in public. Unfortunately, my sex-starved body is giving Rhys a different message. Regardless, I’ve asked him to stop. So why hasn’t he stopped?
“You don’t really want me to do that. I think you’re loving this. I think you want more.” With that, his finger brushes over my clit, and I practically jump out of my seat. Rhys chuckles at my reaction and does it again.
“Tilly?” I jump for a completely different reason now.
The whole dining room seems to go quiet as I notice Connor standing in front of our table, looking at me with concern. I understand why, considering my flushed, sweaty state. Please don’t let him notice Rhys’s hand.
After a few seconds of staring at him in shock, I realise it’s my turn to speak.
“Connor! What are you doing here?” I try to keep my voice even but fail miserably as Rhys continues his ministrations.
“I work here,” he says drily.
Of course he does, stupid.
“Owen recognised you and mentioned you were here, so I came to say hi.”
I’m not sure who Owen is, but he has shit timing. I smile weakly. “Oh, well it’s good to see you.”
“Yeah, really good,” Rhys says beside me, faking a smile.
“How have you been?” Connor asks me, ignoring Rhys completely.
In retaliation, Rhys pushes his middle finger inside me just as I open my mouth to answer. I gasp in surprise and Connor steps forward in a panic.
“What’s the matter? Are you okay?” He holds out his hands as if he wants to pull me from behind the table to inspect me himself.
“I’m fine,” I force out. Rhys moves his finger inside me making it extremely difficult to concentrate.
You could make s’mores from the heat radiating off my cheeks right now.
“Cramps.” It’s all I can come up with under duress.
Luckily, mentioning cramps tends to make men uncomfortable enough to stop them from asking more questions.
Connor doesn’t look convinced, but nods anyway.
“You know,” Rhys says casually, “I’ve heard that orgasms are great for relieving cramps. Want me to help you out, Muffin?”
My skin is now a raging inferno, and I not only feel embarrassed but ashamed and guilty for making Connor so obviously uncomfortable.
I try not to look him in the eye, but I can see by his tense body language and his fisted hands that he’s annoyed.
Rhys, clearly loving getting a rise out of him, thrusts a second finger inside me and pumps them hard.
I put my hand on his arm, trying to subtly push it away from me and quietly whimper ‘Please stop’.
Rhys takes no notice, totally preoccupied with getting one up on the man staring at us from the other side of our table.
“No,” I say firmly and give his arm a harder push. This time, he pulls his hand away, but leaves it possessively on my knee, refusing to give up contact completely.
He shrugs innocently. “Alright, I was just offering to help.”
I still can’t look at Connor, and I don’t want to look at Rhys’s smug face, so I just stare at the cutlery in front of me instead.
“You okay, Til?” Connor’s beside me now, speaking in a voice that’s clearly meant as a warning to Rhys that he knows I’m not. “Do you want me to—”
“She’s fine.” Rhys cuts him off rudely, which only winds Connor up more.
“She can speak for herself,” Connor grits out, the muscle in his jaw tensing.
Not wanting to cause any more of a scene than we already have, I decide to step in. “I’m fine, Connor. Thanks for looking out for me, but I’m fine.”
He looks like he’s about to respond when our waiter strides over with our food.
“Steak pie for the gentleman,” he says, placing a plate of delicious-smelling food in front of Rhys. “And the Caesar salad for the lady.”
“Thank you.” I smile, relieved at the opportunity to change the subject. “It looks great.”
“You’re welc— Oh my, are you alright? You look awfully flushed!”
“Cramps,” Rhys, Connor and I say in unison.
“Oh… OH!” The waiter blushes enough to rival my current complexion and looks around to avoid making eye contact with me. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that, please do let me know if there’s any way I can help.”
“Thank you,” I mumble.
“Thanks, Owen,” Connor says, patting the waiter on the shoulder as he walks away. Then he directs his attention back to me. “So, you’re back to eating rabbit food.”
“I…”
“She’s made a decision to be healthier,” Rhys answers for me, his grip tightening almost painfully on my leg. “I admire her for it. It’s not easy to be open and honest about your own flaws, and it’s incredibly brave to do something about it, however hard it is.”
I dare to glance up long enough to see Connor’s eyes flare with anger.
I force a smile, knowing the only way he’ll drop this is if he thinks I’m happy. “It’s fine, Connor. I’m doing really well. I’m fine. I just want to eat my meal.”
“Fine,” he grunts, clearly unsatisfied with my answer. “But if you ever need anything…”
“She’ll come to her husband.” Rhys looks downright murderous, and I feel the urgent need to get Connor away.
I ignore the pain of Rhys’s nails digging into my leg, swallow my embarrassment and shame and force a smile. “It was really good to see you, Connor.” Please take the hint, I beg him with my eyes.
“I’ll see you soon.” He gives Rhys one last glare and turns back towards the kitchen.
Once Connor disappears through the doors marked ‘Staff Only’, Rhys wipes his still-sticky fingers on the lap of my dress and picks up his fork.
I’m hurt by the gesture, but I try to understand why he did it.
Seeing Connor here tonight must have come as a shock to him, so it’s not surprising he’s a little agitated and out of sorts.
We eat our meal in uncomfortable silence.
When Owen returns and asks us if we would like dessert, Rhys declines for us both and asks for the bill instead.
Once he’s paid, he stands up to leave. When I move to follow, I realise I have damp smudges streaked across the front of my dress, where Rhys wiped his fingers earlier, and I’m willing to bet I have a stain on the back, too.
“Rhys?”
“What?” he snaps.
“There are marks on my dress,” I hiss. “Everyone’s going to notice and stare at me!”
“You should have been more careful, then,” he answers, as if it’s my fault. “I don’t have the energy for this. I’ll meet you in the car.”
Rhys storms away, leaving me sitting at the table unsure what to do.
I can’t hide it with a well-placed cardigan because I didn’t bring one.
If I stand up, people will notice the marks and put two and two together.
But if I stay sitting here much longer, I have no doubt Owen will report back to Connor, and then I’ll have to explain the stains to him.
Deciding I’d rather have thirty or so strangers whisper about me than have Connor know the truth about what happened, I get up and power walk to the exit.