by Danah Logan
Chest heaving visibly, Rhys takes in my body. He has seen pretty much all of me before, but suddenly, I fight the urge to cover myself. It felt like a good idea a minute ago, but now I wonder if I’ve made a mistake. What if he doesn't think I'm pretty? He's been with Katherine, and she is in a league of her own. Her body is perfect, and mine… I start to cross my arms when he stops me.
"Don’t."
Rhys’s hands hover at the sides of my hips before he touches them to my skin, tracing my hip bones with his thumbs. Oh, God. I’m on fire, and my breath becomes labored as his eyes slowly travel up my torso. He stops at my breasts, inspecting them in meticulous detail before lifting his greens to my hazels. His hands have not moved an inch, and yet, every cell in my body has come to life by him merely looking at me. My nipples harden under his lingering gaze, and Rhys’s nostrils flare when he sees my body’s reaction. I can feel the wetness in my shorts and press my thighs together.
"What are you doing to me, babe?" His tone is laced with the same desire that’s building inside of me.
I bite my bottom lip and reach for the hem of Rhys’s sweater. I want him naked, to see his mouthwatering body. He lifts his arms compliantly, and I slowly pull the fabric upward. My hands graze his ribcage, goosebumps appearing where my fingertips make contact. His physical response makes my last bit of hesitation—my insecurity over my inexperience—disappear. I throw it on the pile with my clothes and push with both hands at Rhys’s shoulders, forcing him to lie back.
"Cal, you don't have to do—" He cuts off as soon as my fingers curl into the elastic of his sweatpants.
"Fuuuuuck." He rubs his hands over his face before pushing himself up on his elbows, watching me through hooded lids. He lifts his butt far enough off of the mattress, and his pants land next to my leggings. My mouth waters at the sight of him.
Only separated by my panties and his boxer briefs, I straddle his lap, leaning forward until our bodies are flush together. We've made out before, but this is different—maybe because we both know what's about to happen. The heat of his defined torso against the flesh of my sensitive breasts causes my entire body to tingle, and a soft moan escapes my mouth. This is almost too much, and we haven’t even started yet.
I'm ready for the next step. So ready. But this whole time, my inexperienced side avoided looking directly at Rhys’s lower half as I undressed him. Now, having only two very thin pieces of fabric between us, I have no doubt that he wants me. His erection is pressing against my core, and I automatically rock against him. Groaning, his hands glide down my back until he reaches my ass, squeezing it hard and forcing my already throbbing clit further against him. My eyes roll back inside my head at the sensation, and I stifle a curse.
"You are so fucking beautiful." His voice is hoarse, as if he's been screaming all day.
Holding myself up far enough, I place chaste kisses along his jaw until my lips line up with his ear, and I whisper, "Make me forget."
I yelp when Rhys flips us over with lightning speed and hovers above me. "Are you sure?"
Searching my gaze, he waits. I read him like an open book—my open book. He doesn’t mask his worry of me changing my mind or not changing my mind. This gorgeous boy in my bed, who has way more experience than me, is as nervous as I am.
I reach up and trace his cheekbone with the tip of my index finger. "There is nothing I want more," I reassure him.
That’s all he needs. Rhys’s lips descend on mine in a heated kiss, his tongue immediately seeking entrance. He invades my mouth, and I match every stroke with one of my own. Feels. So. Good. Suddenly, his mouth leaves mine. Nooo, a voice shouts inside my head. I want to protest, but then his lips are back on me. Good Lord. I whimper, fisting my hands into the duvet underneath me, and I feel him chuckle against my skin. He trails kisses down my neck, and as he nips at my flesh, I turn my head to give him better access. I'm about to combust, and we aren't fully naked yet.
His tongue explores every inch of my body until he reaches the top of my panties. I let go of the comforter and stretch my arms over my head, holding my breath as he slowly pulls the lacey material down to my ankles. Rhys’s body is completely off of mine, and I don't dare look at him. Squeezing my eyes shut, I concentrate on breathing, which has become more strained the lower his mouth travels. When I feel his warm exhale against my opening, I can no longer suppress the moan I’ve been holding in.
A soft growl reaches my ears, and I involuntarily open my eyes, inhaling sharply. While I tried to calm my body, Rhys rid himself of his boxer briefs and is now standing fully naked in front of my bed. Everything is standing. I stare at him. It. His dick. Whatever you call it. My brain has officially short-circuited.
"Last chance, babe." He smirks at me.
I lick my lips, my eyes meeting his. "Nightstand," is all I say, and his cocky smile vanishes.
I give him a devilish grin of my own.
Way too slowly, Rhys walks around the bed. I clamp my mouth shut to not order him to hurry the fuck up. It’s like my body has been taken over by a stranger. Pushing myself up until my head is on my pillows, I readjust the comforter until I can slip in between the duvet and the mattress.
Reaching inside the top drawer, he pulls out a condom. I follow his every move as Rhys rips open the foil packet and rolls it down his length. Heat pools in my core, and my mouth goes dry. He is huge, and I'm starting to worry about how he’ll fit inside of me.
Sliding between the sheets next to me, Rhys remains propped up on his elbow. As he lifts the covers, the motion lets much needed cool air hit my overheated body. His free arm moves up the side of my body until he reaches my face. He tenderly forces me to look at him. He’s all serious. "I'll be as gentle as possible."
I nod, my whole body shaking in nervous anticipation. His hand leaves my cheek and glides down my side to my center. When he reaches his destination, Rhys circles my clit with his thumb twice before slipping a finger inside of me.
Oh God.
"So wet," he groans against the skin under my ear, and I moan loudly, quickly pressing my lips together to not make the entire house aware of what’s going on in my room. I grip his shoulder with my hand, digging my nails into the muscle as he moves in and out. "Rhys, I…this…" What was I going to say?
I hike my thigh up his side to give him better access. He inserts another finger, and my hips buck.
"Ahh," I’m going to wake up the entire neighborhood if he keeps that up. I’m losing control over my body’s reactions, but at the same time, I don’t care.
"Fuck, you are so sexy writhing underneath me with my fingers buried deep inside of you," Rhys pants, and I haven’t touched him at all.
Den and I had talked in vivid detail about her first time with Charlie, and I know it'll hurt, but she also assured me that I would know when I am ready.
My gaze roams the face of the boy hovering half above me while his talented fingers drive me to the brink of madness. I love him with all my heart, and after everything we've been through and still have ahead of us, I need this. I need him.
I signal him that I want more than just his fingers by pulling him over my body. He removes his hand and settles between my legs. Taking charge, I reach down to position him at my entrance. As I wrap my hand around his dick, a guttural sound escapes Rhys, and he touches his forehead to mine.
"Babe, I’m about to blow if you don’t take your hand away right now."
A giggle erupts in my throat. After one more torturing stroke and him making a sound between a groan and a growl, I move both my palms to his shoulders. His body trembles as he slowly pushes forward, and I don't take my eyes from his. Just feeling his tip at my opening could send me over the edge, but I force myself to take a steadying breath.
"Tell me to stop if it gets to be too much."
I nod, and he enters me. The slickness makes him sink in easily, and I try to relax. I fail. Every muscle in my body tenses. I didn’t think it would be that bad, that everyone always just exaggerates,
but nothing, not all the girl-talks with my best friend, prepared me for this. A sharp sting makes me squeeze my eyes shut, and I dig my nails into Rhys’s shoulder blades. He instantly stops moving. "Look at me, Cal."
I can’t, not right away. I breathe through my nose before I follow his command, locking eyes with Rhys.
"You’re doing great. I’m sorry, babe." After a pause, he adds, "Fuck. You feel so good I got carried away. Just keep breathing; I promise I’ll go slow."
But instead of letting him remain in the lead, I place my hands on his butt to urge him forward. Something tells me that slow will not make the pain go away faster. At first, I regret my rash decision; maybe I should’ve let him ease in. But then my body adjusts to his size, and the uncomfortable feeling morphs into something…holy shit. I did not anticipate that. Every nerve ending is buzzing with pleasure, and pure ecstasy takes over my body. Rhys and I are connected in a way—not just physical—that can never be undone. He’s my endgame.
I start matching his every move, and soon we’re both covered in a sheen of sweat. I’m pretty sure I left marks on his back.
"Babe, I…I don’t think I can last much longer."
I grasp his head and pull him down to me. The ache is building deep in my core, and I begin to kiss him frantically. In my eagerness, I accidentally bite his lower lip, but instead of stopping, it only turns Rhys on more. His movement speeds up as he literally pounds into me. I never thought I would enjoy it like that, but I do. Holy shit, I do. The contact and friction on my sensitive spot whenever he buries himself to the hilt is too much. Stars explode behind my closed eyelids. I moan loudly, and Rhys muffles my sounds by tangling his tongue with mine. This is not helping; all it does is send another wave of pleasure through me. His entire body goes tense as he thrusts forward one last time and then uses my mouth to swallow the growl leaving him as he releases himself inside of me.
Rhys collapses over me but holds himself up enough to not crush me under his weight.
"What. The. Fuck?"
I raise my eyebrows, and he huffs out a laugh.
"Babe, this was…holy fuck. I…fuck, I don't have words." His expression sobers. "Did I hurt you?"
I don’t have to think about my answer. "No."
Rhys was the right guy, and as much as the discomfort was part of it, I don't consider the experience painful.
He rolls off of me and heads to the bathroom to discard the condom. When he’s back, he holds a washcloth in one hand and moves the covers out of the way with the other. As he cleans me up, our eyes meet, and the entire gesture is just as intimate as what happened minutes before. My heart skips a beat as I watch him care for me.
Back in my bed, he lies on his back and holds out his arm in an invitation to come closer. I snuggle into his side, my cheek against the side of his neck and my palm flat on his pecs.
For the first time in forever, my mind is filled with nothing but bliss. I know it can't last, but I'll take it for as long as I can.
Right before I drift off to sleep, Rhys’s low voice makes its way through the fog rising in my brain. "Please don't shut me out again."
Chapter Thirty-Eight
I stare at the remnants of yet another laptop on the floor.
Fuck, I need to stop doing that.
When the number of Lilly and Rhys’s burner flashed across my screen, I instantly knew something was very wrong. We agreed to communicate through George, and only in an emergency.
It made my skin crawl as Lilly recalled what she learned from her adopted parents. I typed as fast as I could to not miss anything she was saying.
Coercive persuasion? You've got to be kidding me. Having spent a year in a fucking mental hospital, I'm well aware of what that is. Thanks to my attorneys, I ended up in one of those places the rich and famous check themselves into for all their first-world problems. The only difference was, I wasn't allowed to check myself out until a new court order was issued.
They practiced all kinds of shit in that fancy-ass place—anything to make the client function in society again. So yes, we had specialists for all of it. One of the guys got hypno-treatments for his coke addiction. Regular detox was too simple; it would've taken effort on his part. So why not pay ten grand a day for someone to do the work for you?
But someone who can perform all of these methods is news to me. My left hand is still clenched in a tight fist as I dial George’s number with my right.
"Nate?" His voice is tired.
He had been setting up perimeter surveillance around Lilly's neighborhood to keep track of all the comings and goings. Thank fuck the McGuires bought their house on a street ending in a cul-de-sac; that makes it a little easier. For the first time, I wonder if that was on purpose; Tristen McGuire doesn't leave anything to chance.
"Lilly called." My words instantly put George on edge.
"What happened?" I hear rustling on the other end, and knowing the man, he is getting ready to strike down anyone that's wronged my little sister. In the short time he's been around Lilly, he’s gotten as attached as I have. Her kind heart and witty personality suck you in until you cannot not love her.
When I’m done repeating everything Lilly told me, my adrenaline level is once again through the roof. My fingers itch to throw something else to join the laptop.
"Motherfucker!" George shouts, and a loud crash on the other end comes through the line.
I’m not the only one losing his temper over this.
I don’t think, in all the years I’ve known him, he has ever cursed. He doesn’t even say "shit." Not until recently. Hearing him use the F-bomb in any type of combination with another word instantly triggers an alarm in my head.
"What is it?" Given his reaction, he knows something.
"Hector Lakatos." It’s more a growl than words.
"Who?" I ask, confused.
"Goddamn it. I didn’t know he was even on U.S. soil. Last I heard, he was still somewhere in the Middle East." More commotion on the other end.
"George! Who. The. Fuck. Is. Hector. Lakatos?"
After several beats of silence, he answers my question, and every hair on my body stands.
"Hector Lakatos is Lilly’s memory doctor."
Fuck!
"You know him?"
"I know of him. He’s an independent contractor. His services are for hire to whoever pays the price."
"Illegal?"
George scoffs. "What’s not illegal when you mess around in someone’s brain?"
True.
"What are we going to do about it?"
I'm leaning on him for advice because my rational thinking exited as soon as Lilly told me what happened.
"I will contact an associate who most likely would know where to find someone who can contact Hector."
As George speaks, I’ve already typed the name into one of my search programs. I will find out what size underwear the fucker wears, and then I will set them on fire—with him in them. Okay, most likely not, but I will make his digital presence a living hell. He won’t be able to take a piss in a public bathroom without my knowledge.
I take several calming breaths, before saying, "you do that. I’ll see what I can find on my end. I want to know everything he remembers about Lilly. And if he can reverse what he did to my sister. I don't believe that her memory was only fucked with because of me." My fists ball again, and I force myself not to throw more technology across the room.
"I’ll be in touch," George replies before hanging up.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
I hide in my bedroom for the remainder of the weekend.
Den and Wes left Saturday morning to give Rhys and me alone time—as my best friend informed me with a wink.
Oh God, did they hear us?
She'd be staying at Wes’s until school on Monday. When I asked her about Charlie, she ignored my question, kissed me on the cheek, and dragged Rhys’s best friend out of the room. Seeing the two this…close is still weird, but I guess I shouldn't say anything, h
aving formed a connection with a former Marine who serves as personal security to my criminal brother. When we FaceTime'd that evening, Den finally confessed the suspicion of Charlie cheating on her. We spent two hours dissecting his actions and words while Rhys and Wes threw in random comments from the background, giving a male perspective on the situation.
Heather came in to check on us a few times, but she remained standing in the doorway, and I didn't invite her in. I'm back to not wanting to be around either of my adoptive parents, but this time, I don't have to put on a show. My contempt is as visible as the sorrow on Heather's face. Rhys only left my side when he ventured down to get us something to eat. The few times Tristen tried to talk to me, Rhys slammed the door in his face. Rhys doesn't know the truth—yet, but he knows me, and that's good enough for him.
Sunday afternoon, the door to my room bursts open, and a small, dark-haired figure launches herself at me. Natty is sobbing in my arms, and my throat thickens.
God, I missed her.
"Shhh." I hold her close with one arm, stroking her hair with my other hand as tears are running down my face. "I'm here, baby girl. Everything is okay. Shhh."
I catch Rhys’s eyes over the top of Natty's head, and he blinks rapidly, trying to make the moisture disappear.
It feels like hours before the little girl in my arms starts calming down. We’re still in the middle of my bed, while Rhys moved to lean against the headboard some time ago, watching us.
He mouths, "I love you," and I smile at him in return, a swarm of butterflies instantly causing havoc in my stomach.
Eventually, Natty moves away from me and scans my face, settling on the scar from my car accident. "Did he hurt you?"
My pulse increases, and I take a deep breath. "No, he didn't hurt me." I touch my forehead. "Please don't worry about that. I hit my head when I crashed the Jeep. It was an accident."