Outmatched: A Novel

by Kristen Callihan

  When he didn’t say anything, I whispered, “Please, Rhys. Trust in Dean. In me. Don’t do this alone anymore.”

  Something warm entered Rhys’s gaze until his shoulders slumped. He nodded, his voice hoarse. “Okay, sweetheart. I’ll talk to Dean.”

  That ache, the pleasurable kind I’d felt in my chest earlier, spread through me again. Tenderness filled me. I stood from my seat and walked slowly toward Rhys on the bed.

  That warmth in his expression turned to heat as I pushed between his legs to curl my hands around his neck. He reached for me, his fingers flexing on my waist as he pulled me close.

  “Had a shitty night, Tink,” he said, his voice low. “You interested in making it better?”

  A shiver tingled down my spine as I felt a familiar tug of need low in my belly. I brushed my thumbs along the bristle of his cheeks and leaned in to whisper against his mouth, “I’m interested in making it phenomenal.”

  He grinned, his eyes dancing. He slid a hand under my shirt, and I trembled a little, undermining my verbal cockiness. “Big talk, sweetheart.”

  “You don’t think I can make your night phenomenal?”

  Rhys deftly unclipped my bra and my eyes widened. His grin softened to a sensual smile. “I was exhausted when I walked in this door. But all you have to do”—he slipped his hands out of my shirt to grasp the hem—“is press that gorgeous little body of yours to mine”—he drew the shirt up over my head, and I raised my arms to help him—“and I’m harder …” Rhys paused as he watched me lower the straps of my bra. Nervousness filled me as I bared myself to him.

  I wasn’t voluptuous.

  Not at all.

  I worried for about a millisecond that I wasn’t enough. Only a millisecond because Rhys literally growled under his breath as he stared at my breasts. His eyes dragged back up to meet mine as his hands coasted up my sides. “The last time I was this hard, I was a fucking teenager, so my night is already phenomenal, sweetheart.”

  I gasped as he cupped my small breasts in his big hands, shivering against the delicious rough calluses on his palms, moaning as his thumbs caught my nipples. “Rhys.”

  Seconds later I was in very real danger of turning into a melted puddle as Rhys tugged me toward him so he could wrap his hot mouth around my left nipple.

  Pleasure zinged straight between my legs. I clasped my hand behind his head, writhing against him as he lavished worshipful attention upon my breasts. Swollen, needy, I sighed as he trailed hot kisses up toward my neck. I bent to him, offering my mouth, which he took with a voraciousness that shattered my control.

  “Too many clothes,” I gasped against his mouth, pushing at his shoulders.

  I felt him chuckle against me, and then I let out a squeal of delight as I suddenly found myself on my back on the bed.

  Rhys’s eyes burned with a desire that rocked me as he reached for the top button on my jeans. “You first,” he demanded, gruff with impatience.

  Shimmying my hips, I aided him as he yanked my jeans down my legs. Once he’d discarded them, his eyes held mine as he reached for my underwear. My breath caught as his fingers curled around them. Sensing he was waiting for permission, I attempted not to smile at the sweetness of the gesture and nodded. He pulled them slowly down my legs, eyes locked on mine, until I was so beyond ready, a whimper escaped me.

  Rhys drank his fill as I laid out on the bed for him. I bit my lip, my nipples tightening as anticipation rippled through me.

  “Fuck,” Rhys choked out. “Fuck, Parker, how can anyone be so beautiful?”

  His tender words caused a burn of emotion in my throat and suddenly, I was no longer concerned about comparing myself to the other women Rhys had been with.

  This was so much more than that.

  For both of us.

  I just knew it.

  Something seemed to snap in Rhys as he divested himself of his clothes much faster than he’d divested me of mine. I watched him in awe, studying the light and shade of his beautiful body. I’d never been with anyone like him before. I’d always thought I’d be intimidated because he was so much bigger than me … but I was excited by the idea of being covered by him, wrapped up in all that sleek hardness. My brutish boxer with his gigantic heart and secretly gentle soul.

  My eyes explored him, moving down his roped abs to—

  Oh my.

  I swallowed hard as I watched him tear open a condom wrapper. He rolled it on and as he did so, I grew wary over his size.

  “Do you think that’ll fit?” I blurted out.

  Rhys blinked as my words penetrated, and then he grinned through a groan as he moved onto the bed. “We’ll make it fit.”

  “Um …” My gaze was locked on him, hard and very, very big. Not just long but the girth … oh my. “Rhys, seriously … I am very small, and you are very big.” He crawled over me and my legs automatically spread to accommodate him. “You can’t fit a large object into a tiny immovable hole—it’s physically impossible. That’s a scientific fact.”

  Rhys suddenly dropped his face against my neck, his body shaking with laughter.

  “Rhys?”

  Finally, he lifted his head, amusement mingling with lust in his beautiful eyes. He throbbed between my legs, his heat pushing against mine. “For a start,” he said, laughter on his lips, “you’re not immovable, sweetheart. In fact, you’re about to be so moved, you’ll feel the earth shake.”

  My breath caught. “Well … if you’re sure.”

  He held himself still above me. “It’s not about if I’m sure. Are you sure?”

  I could feel his muscles trembling, saw the way the muscle in his jaw ticked as he held himself back from what he wanted. His eyes were dark with need but there was a light of affection, maybe even concern there.

  It made me melt. “You’re right, I’m not immoveable. Things stretch down there. Go for it.”

  Now he was shaking with laughter. “I love when you talk dirty to me.”

  My own giggle was cut off as he moved against me, teasing. Desire flooded me. “Rhys, now, please—oh!” I cried out, gripping onto his waist as he drove inside me, a pleasure pain vibrating through me as my body adjusted to the overwhelming fullness.

  Rhys was braced over me, his face strained with pleasure. “Fuck,” he choked out. “You weren’t lying.”

  I instinctually flexed my hips, needing him to move.

  He cupped my left hip, caressing my outer thigh. “Wait.” He shook his head, closing his eyes for a second. “I just need a minute.”

  But I couldn’t help it. I tilted my hips again, feeling him move deeper inside me, causing a coil of pleasure within me to tighten.

  Rhys shook his head, laughter in his voice. “Patience, baby. I want to do this slow and if you keep doing that, it’s not gonna go slow.”

  Seeing the sincerity in his eyes, realizing he was trying to be tender, emotion flooded me again. I wrapped my legs around his back, drawing him gently into me, our breaths puffing against each other’s lips before he kissed me. It too was slow, sweet. At complete odds with his size.

  I felt fragile and cared for.

  It was beautiful.

  But I also wanted something more, something that made me feel like I was more than just a cute, petite woman. I wanted to feel sexy, so sexy, he couldn’t help but screw me six ways until Sunday.

  “Okay,” I agreed breathlessly. “But next time, we get to do it hard and fast.”

  At that, I felt a shudder move through Rhys. “She’s trying to kill me,” he muttered against my lips.

  Maybe. But goodness, what a way to go.

  Seventeen

  Rhys

  * * *

  Slow. I was supposed to go slow. Parker Brown was sprawled out beneath me like a feast. A pocket pixie, delicate and beautiful. I’d never touched skin so fine, smoother than satin, honey-gold and sweet. I was half afraid I’d break her. Hell, I’d thrust my dick into her slick tightness, trying to think straight long enough to slow the fuck do
wn.

  God, she felt good, though. So damn tight. So damn hot. She chuckled against my mouth and moved her hips in a small circle as I thrust. Pleasure shot down my spine, over my skin. I paused deep within her, my dick throbbing. My body shook with the effort to keep still as Parker wiggled beneath me.

  “Rhys.”

  I nipped her succulent lower lip and took a ragged breath.

  “You gonna behave now?” I asked, knowing she liked it when I was bossy.

  Her shining brown eyes smiled as she met my gaze. “Yes, Rhys.”

  Oh, hell. She really was trying to kill me. My nostrils flared as I pulled back and thrust hard. Parker sighed on impact, her sweet little tits jiggling. Fuck. Yes. I did it again. Hard and deep. Slow.

  The sounds of our bodies meeting filled the silence. Her breath became a pant, her lids lowering as she watched me fuck into her. Something was taking over; I stopped thinking, stopped worrying. Nothing mattered anymore. Not the gym. Not my brother or bills. Not Fairchild.

  There was only this. Only Parker. She lit me up, made me something new—something good. Groaning, I found her mouth and devoured it. My thrusts became frantic. No more finesse, no more control, just this need to push into her, get as close as possible to her skin so that maybe she could absorb me.

  My thoughts grew jumbled, my breath harsh and dry. I needed more.

  Her skin was slippery with sweat as I grabbed her thigh and hauled it up higher, spreading her wider.

  “Yes,” she rasped, arching up, pressing her breasts against my chest.

  Yes. The best word in the English language. Yes. And more. And fuck.

  Grunting, I worked her hard, my lips finding the fragrant curve of her neck. I sucked her skin, moved my hips, and fucked her with everything I had.

  Parker cried out, her body going tight around me. I could feel her on the edge. Her skin was flushed, her eyes wide on me. “Rhys.”

  I heard the plea. My voice was a thick rasp. “What do you need, Tink?”

  “Grind it,” she said, gasping. “My clit.”

  God. I loved the way she thought. My hips slammed into hers, and I paused there, pushing against her swollen clit. She moaned, her eyes closing, her head tilting back.

  It was beautiful. And I was the lucky bastard who got to see this.

  “Let go.” I thrust again, pausing, working her. “Give it to me, Parker.”

  Her hands grasped my shoulders. She came with a spectacular wail, her body milking my dick so hard I saw stars. It set me off. I lost all sense of time, of anything but moving inside Parker, kissing her soft mouth.

  I groaned into her mouth as I came. Everything drained out of me, and in that moment, I didn’t know my own name. Only hers.

  I was hers.

  “And this little beauty is an authentic Japanese samurai sword, owned by a World War II Japanese officer.” Fairchild lifted the sword off its display mount and held it aloft. “Note the blade. Made by Yoshimichi.”

  His houseguests attempted to look interested as Fairchild beamed.

  “Story goes, when the US occupied Japan at the end of the war, they confiscated the sword and presented it to an officer as a reward for his work in defeating the Japanese. Set me back around thirty thousand, but I was glad to pay the price.”

  This fucking guy.

  I caught Parker’s eye. I didn’t need to make a face—one glance and it seemed she understood me completely. Just as I knew she was fighting not to wrinkle her nose in disdain. Fairchild was some piece of work. Not only did he have zero social awareness, he actually gloated over it.

  All through the miserable dinner with him, I kept myself sane by imagining the various ways I could punch him in the face—a right cross, an uppercut, a one-two combo. Juvenile, maybe. But definitely satisfying. One day, I promised myself for the thousandth time, I’d see that he got what was coming to him.

  There was no way I’d let him get away with being such an utter fuckwank to Parker.

  Parker.

  Hell. I started to sweat, lust rising like a heat wave.

  We’d spent all night in bed. Fucking. Laughing. Fucking again. We’d fall asleep, then one of us would wake, reach for the other, and it would start up all over again.

  I’d never had a more perfect night. I’d never laughed like that in bed, just for the joy of it. Parker made me happy. Free in a way I’d never been. She was also the tastiest, most luscious little …

  “You’re getting that look again,” she murmured at my side.

  My fingers threaded through hers, and I stroked her knuckles. “What look?”

  Her lids lowered demurely as her lips pursed. I wanted to kiss those lips, lick my way into her hot, sweet mouth. “You know.”

  Yeah, I knew. It was the “I want to fuck you so bad, I hurt” look. I was pretty sure I’d be wearing that look all the time now. Biting back a grin, I tried to focus on Fairchild, still yammering on about another piece of weaponry.

  Don’t get me wrong—they were beautiful pieces. And if they were owned by anyone else, I might have been more interested. As it was, though, I just wanted out of there. If I couldn’t take Parker to bed, I’d settle for a walk with her and some fresh air.

  Anything, as long as we were alone.

  “And this,” Fairchild said, moving on to a big, glass case filled with sand, “is my newest edition to the collection.”

  Jackson and his fiancée trailed along, obviously dragging their feet. He shot me a quick, pained look, and I empathized. We were all in hell together. I had no idea what sort of weapon Fairchild would keep in sand, but I obligingly led Parker to the case.

  When my eyes finally fell on the object in question, I found myself balking.

  “Is that …” Parker trailed off, her hushed whisper holding a hint of garbled laughter.

  I stared at the stripped snake coiled in the case, and my lips twitched. “It’s a sand snake.”

  Fairchild heard me and grinned wide. Now that I had said I’d seriously think about the fight, he’d mellowed. No more hard sells. No more glaring at Parker. Fairchild was king of his castle and loving life. The asshole.

  “Technically, it’s an American sidewinder rattlesnake,” he said. “But don’t worry. Shani here is a venomoid—which means his venom has been removed.”

  As if that was my worry. I wasn’t getting anywhere near the thing. Fairchild, on the other hand, seemed to think it was a great idea to lift the lid off the case.

  Camille made a noise of distress, then laughed as if she hadn’t meant to, but she pressed up against Jackson. Fairchild ate it up, smiling like an ass as he waxed poetic about the majesty of his snake.

  Parker snuggled in closer to me, and I wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You think if we say Beetlejuice three times, he’d show up and eat Fairchild?” I whispered in her ear.

  She nudged me in reply, her lips pressed together in a tight line to keep from smiling.

  Fairchild began to reach into the case.

  “Are you sure you should do that?” Camille said.

  He laughed. “The ladies are always nervous around snakes.” Yeah, no shit, dude, they saw your act coming a mile away. “Don’t you worry, honey, Shani and I are great friends.”

  I rolled my eyes and kept a good hold on Parker. It wasn’t that the snake scared me—much—but I had a healthy appreciation for predators, and venom or not, a rattler wasn’t something I’d fuck around with.

  Shani the snake had been napping in the sand, but Fairchild had woken him up. His diamond-shaped head lifted, and he tracked the movement of Fairchild’s hand with small, unblinking black eyes.

  “Shani loves rats,” Fairchild explained. “Especially big ones—ah!”

  His scream made us all jump. Shani had moved so quickly, there wasn’t time to react. His fangs sank into the fat of Fairchild’s hand, once, twice. Fairchild screamed again and whipped his hand back.

  Cursing, I shot forward and slammed the lid onto the case before the snake could ge
t out. All hell broke loose as Fairchild howled about his hand and staff came running.

  As Fairchild moaned and slumped to the ground, clutching his wounded hand, I caught Parker’s eyes. God, it wasn’t funny a man getting bitten by a snake.

  It wasn’t.

  It couldn’t be.

  My lips twitched.

  Her eyes lit up, her nostrils flaring on a sharply drawn breath.

  All around us, people shouted and hustled to help Fairchild. Shani coiled himself back in the sand. In the sand.

  Parker’s gaze held mine. I could see the words in her head: bitten by a sand snake.

  Laughter bubbled up my throat, pressed hard against my closed lips, wanting out. A gurgle escaped Parker, and I knew she was about to lose it. It took me two steps to get to her, wrap my arms around her.

  “She’s afraid of snakes,” I told the room. I didn’t think anyone heard.

  Practically running, we escaped the room. Our laughter held on by a thread until we got outside, and then it burst free. Parker doubled over, tears running down her face as she snorted and laughed. I was right with her, leaning against the house as I choked on my laughter.

  “Oh god.” She wiped at her eyes. “I’m going to hell! But his face. Did you see his face when the snake struck?”

  “The sand snake?”

  Her eyes were two triangles of glee. “A sand snake!”

  “Shani loves rats,” I intoned, laughing harder.

  Parker’s gaze collided with mine, mirth gleaming in her eyes.

  “Especially big ones,” we said in unison, and lost it all over again.

  Weakly, I pulled her into my arms and held her as we wore ourselves out. Parker finally sighed, a happy, drained sound. Her brown eyes were glossy with tears of humor and her hair had gotten mussed. She was gorgeous. My hand cupped her smooth cheek as I leaned down and kissed her.

  She melted into me. Perfect. A fucking gift in the middle of chaos. I kissed her and the world slipped away. Kissed her until our lips were swollen and my body grew tight with need. Parker made a greedy little noise in the back of her throat and wrapped her arms around my neck.