by Joya Ryan
“Jesus!” I gasped. There was a large, shirtless Rhys standing in front of me. “You scared the hell out of me.”
Black drawstring pajama bottoms hung low on his hips giving me prime view of all his chiseled, muscled glory. My nipples hardened instantly and the subtle scratch of the terrycloth they were pressed against only made it worse.
“Is something wrong?” Rhys asked.
I snapped my gaze up to his just before I was caught drooling. “I couldn’t sleep. Thought maybe a hot shower would help.”
He nodded and looked me over, taking in my damp skin and towel. His gaze heated me way more than the water I was just under.
“I’ll make you some tea.”
“No, it’s okay.” I made a mental note to add, “offers to make tea” to the list of everything good and seemingly perfect about him. Operation “Don’t Fall for Rhys Striker,” was not going well. Because instead of finding unflattering things about him, all I got was more and more reasons why he was wonderful.
“You look like you haven’t slept well in a while,” he said softly, his thumb running along my cheekbone just beneath my eye.
“Yeah, I know.”
I turned away because I was aware how haggard I looked. I didn’t need Rhys with all his muscles and way too sexy pj’s pointing it out. I also didn’t like how self-conscious I felt. Put me in a city or on a busy street and I was fine. But the country?
When it came to townsfolk and small talk with neighbors, I had no idea how to act. I was out of my element and everything I wanted to say just sounded so harsh. And I didn’t want to come across mean, not right now at least. I reserved snarky words for when I needed space. Needed to verbally cut someone enough to make them leave me alone.
Right then, I didn’t want to be left alone, I wanted Rhys. But I didn’t want to be near him either. Mostly because I didn’t want him to have an up close and personal view of all the shortcomings that I was too tired to conceal at the moment.
“When was the last time you slept?” he asked.
“You mean other than when I was roofied?” I smiled. He didn’t. “Come on, that was a little funny.”
He sighed and shook his head. “Most women would be shaking in fear after having a scare like that. Certainly not joking about it.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not most women.”
He kept his eyes on my face. “I know.” He glanced at the knot in the middle of my breasts, or dare I assume Mr. Platonic was looking at my actual breasts, then back to my face. “When, Emma?”
I let out a long huff. “The last time I actually slept through the night was at your hotel.”
“And before that?”
I studied the floor. “Not since I left Chicago.”
He exhaled and when he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. “Why do you suppose you can’t sleep now?”
“I don’t know.” Liar. I did know. But admitting it out loud wouldn’t help anything. That night I was surrounded by Rhys, his scent, his strength. It was easy to slip into a coma of bliss and know everything would be okay.
“Are you scared?” he asked softly.
“No.”
He kept his eyes on the pulse in my neck. I could tell because I realized he did this often. Probably part of his “reading people” skills. Naturally, I tried to steady my heartbeat, which only made it jump a bit more.
“Would you like me to come sit with you until you fall asleep?”
“No,” I answered quickly and that time it was the total truth. I didn’t want him to sit, I wanted him to lie down with me. Own my entire body like he had that night. I wanted to get lost in him. But reality was just too brutal to forget. Call it exhaustion or hormones, I was feeling so low, in every way possible, and I didn’t want Rhys to see it.
“I just want to go back to bed,” I whispered.
“Okay.” He stepped aside and let me pass. I put my head down, hustled to the bedroom, shut the door and set to putting my pajamas back on. Blue checkered shorts and a white tank.
Just as I settled back into bed and pulled the covers to my chin, a small rap came at the door.
“You can come in,” I called out. And he did.
He stood in the doorway. The window on the opposite wall let in enough moonlight that it illuminated his face and hard torso. Shadows danced over the expanse of his smooth skin and made me think of some kind of Greek god.
Not saying a word, he walked straight to me, around to the other side of the bed, and climbed in. I went to turn to face him, but he just wrapped me in his arms, my back to his chest, and spooned me.
“I thought you wanted to keep this platonic,” I said.
“I do. Well, I should.” His mouth brushed my ear as he spoke, sending tingles to every part of my body. “I’m not putting the moves on you, Emma. I just want you to be able to rest. Whatever it takes to make you believe you’re safe, I’ll do.”
His arms tightened a little and his leg threaded between my two. My heart stuttered a bit. Not from his grip, but from the sheer mass of his presence weighing down on me. If I was the kind of girl that ran into the arms of a man, I’d hope to God that man’s arms were Rhys’s. Because he was the kind of man that caught a girl, and never let go. I might have only shared a few moments with him, but those moments were worth a thousand with any other man.
My chest tightened as the truth hit me hard. The answer to my question of why I responded to Rhys the way I did was clear. It wasn’t because he was different. It was because he was better. Better than most. Better than me. Just . . . better.
“I don’t get you, Rhys.” I whispered.
He buried his face in my neck. “I like you, Emma. I have no problem admitting that.”
The sentiment doubled the arrhythmia problem I was having. Just the thought of being on the receiving end of his attentions made my skin light up. Hell, I had firsthand experience in what his attention felt like. And it was addicting. But it was also not practical to think it could be more than a fleeting encounter here and there. Long-term and me didn’t mix. Especially when it involved a man. And that was when both of us were on an equal playing field, which Rhys and I weren’t.
“You don’t like me, you pity me,” I corrected.
“I think I can classify my feelings correctly.” His lips were just below my earlobe now.
“You say you can read me? I can read you back. I saw the look in your eyes when I told you about my past. That was pity.”
He laid there silent for a long moment, and it about ate me alive with anticipation. Would he leave? Tell me I was right? Either option made my stomach twist. Men didn’t ever touch me in a nice way. It was either purely sexual or abusive. With Rhys lying next to me, holding me, it felt different. Felt like he cared.
“I don’t like what you’ve had to go through, but I don’t pity you. I feel sad for you.”
I frowned and glanced over my shoulder the best I could. “Same thing,” I stated and went to shake him off, but his grip held tight.
“No, it’s not. Everything you told me helps me understand you. Your will, ambition and sense of survival is awe-inspiring. I admire you, Emma.” He brushed a piece of hair away from my ear. “But there’s not a single part of me that doesn’t wish you didn’t have to go through what you did.”
My throat ached and I tried to swallow but it was difficult because there was a lump rising in it. How was this man able to see right through me? See past the walls I had so diligently constructed a long time ago? It was a shock to my system. He admired me? No one had ever said such a thing before.
“I don’t want to be a charity case,” I whispered.
He shook his head slightly, the stubble on his chin scratching my shoulder. “I’ve never thought of you that way.”
And just like that, my soul, my heart, my entire body flushed with a deep ache that was dying for his words to be true. Like I had every other time he spoke. And if I wasn’t careful, I just might be on the verge of believing him.
�
��Get some sleep.”
I couldn’t argue. My body relaxed and the night crept up on me, making my eyelids heavy. It was like that one incredible night we’d spent together, I was once again surrounded by Rhys, his scent, his strength, and I fell into a deep sleep.
Chapter Seven
The morning’s rays flicked at my face. Groaning, I reluctantly opened my eyes. The smell of bacon and coffee came from the other room and my stomach growled on cue.
Rhys was gone, but I had slept great. Had he stayed the whole night with me? It felt like he had, even though the sheets were cold where he had been. I didn’t know what time it was, but judging by the bitchy sunshine coming through the window, it was breakfast time.
I got up and walked out into the main room. Rhys’s back was to me. He was at the front door talking to someone. His ass looked mighty fine in exercise shorts and a T-shirt that was a little sweaty. Of course he was out exercising already.
I couldn’t see who he was speaking with, but it was definitely a woman.
“I was going to come see you this afternoon,” he said quietly and in a smooth voice. The kind that was typically reserved for, “Hey, baby, I was going to call you, I swear.”
Ah crap. It must be Sara. I cleared my throat and Rhys turned just his head to look at me over his shoulder, not looking at all happy. He was obviously hiding the fact that Sara was standing in front of him.
“Oh, hello there,” a sweet voice rang out and a tiny woman with a blond bun on the top of her head peeked around Rhys.
“Hi . . .” I said, slowly taking in the dainty older woman.
“Now I see why you were being all mysterious. Shame on you,” the woman said and smacked Rhys’s stomach.
With a big smile, she bypassed Rhys and headed straight for me. I was barefoot, in pajama shorts and umph —
She damn near slammed into me, wrapped me in the tightest hug, then gripped my shoulders and leaned back to looked at my face.
“You are such a pretty thing.” Her gray eyes scanned over me. “I didn’t mean to drop by so early. It’s just that when my son,” she hollered in Rhys’s direction, “comes to town and I have to hear it from Teddy at the Slap a Stack, a mother gets worried.”
My eyes went wide and my mouth hung open. “You’re Rhys’s mother?” I asked. And if memory served, Teddy was the cook at the diner last night who had waved a spatula in our direction when Rhys walked in with me.
“Yes,” Rhys said, shutting the front door. “Emma, this is Gwendolyn Striker.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said, having no idea what to do because the woman was still holding me. She was nice and smelled like fresh basil and clay and her smile reached all the way to her eyes.
“You too, dear. And please call me Gwen.”
“Would you like some coffee, Mom?” Rhys said and poured a cup.
“Oh, no thank you, honey, I’m going to get going. I was just dropping by. I don’t want to interrupt.” She shimmied her shoulders a little and gave me another wide smile. She had to be the most bubbly, happy person I had ever met.
She opened her mouth to say something, but then looked at Rhys and closed it. Clapping my shoulders once, she released me and walked to the front door. Rhys was right behind her, making sure to reach the knob before she did and opening the door for his mother.
Ah, now it was coming together. He loved his mother and respected women. Great . . . just great. Another mental tally for the “Why Rhys Is Awesome” column.
“You will come by,” Gwen stated.
“Of course, Mom. I just wanted to get a few things squared away with this place first, but I’ll come by tonight.”
She reached up and patted his cheek. “I’ll make a brisket. And of course you’re coming too, dear.”
She looked at me. Again, not with a question. I nodded, because saying no to this woman didn’t seem like an option.
“Oh, I’m so excited! I’m going to run to the market. Emma, do you like mushrooms?”
“Yes, thank you.”
She nodded and got her keys out of her pocket. “Excellent!”
“Thanks for coming by. See you soon.” Rhys kissed her cheek and she scuttled off, bubbling excitement the entire way. Rhys closed the door behind her and turned to face me.
“She’s so nice,” I said.
Rhys nodded. “Yeah, she is. I didn’t know she was stopping by, I hope we didn’t wake you. I was trying to keep it quiet.”
A small grin slipped past my lips. Considerate man. “No, you didn’t wake me. I’m actually surprised. She looked like she wanted to chat more, but just took off.”
Rhys snorted. “Oh, she’s dying to pry. But she’ll do it tonight over dinner.” Before I could respond to that, or let the nervousness about what was to come sink in, Rhys switched the subject. “Did you sleep okay?” he asked, grabbing a cup of coffee and offering it to me. All these pleasantries and manners were almost like living in a different realm.
“Yeah, thanks,” I muttered and took a sip.
I didn’t know if I was thanking him for his manners or thanking him for cuddling last night. Either way, I was in a bit of shock, not knowing how to handle the Cleaver family this early in the morning.
“You’re welcome. If you sit, I’ll get you some breakfast. Bacon and eggs all right?”
I did as he asked and nodded. “Smells great.” I took in his hard back and muscles as he moved to fill a plate from the skillet. “Did you leave this morning?”
He turned, noticing me glance at his T-shirt. “I usually go for a run in the morning.”
“How early were you up?”
He set the plate down in front of me. “Five.”
“Good Lord. I’m never up that early unless I never fell asleep.” I picked up my fork and took a bite of scrambled eggs, which were cooked in bacon grease and fricking amazing.
Guy could cook. Another tally.
“Did you sleep okay?” I asked as casually as I could, trying to find out if he had stayed the whole night next to me or ended up leaving for the couch once I fell asleep. There was a folded blanket and pillow at the end of the couch and with Rhys being so neat, I didn’t know when he would have done that.
“I slept very well.” He grabbed his coffee and sat across the table from me.
“So you slept the whole night, then woke up at five to run?” God I sounded like a moron.
“Is there something you are trying to ask me, Emma?”
I shrugged and became overly interested in the food before me and took another bite. “Just curious about your schedule is all. Since we’re staying here for a few weeks, figured it would be good to know.”
“Okay, let’s see here.” He placed his forearm on the table, keeping his coffee mug in his hand, and glanced at the sky. “Well, I found you coming out of the shower around midnight. Got into bed with you, slept, and awoke to these sexy little moans.” His eyes landed on me. “That was about four-thirty. I spent the next half hour trying to figure out what you could be dreaming of that caused you to purr and hoped it was me.”
He paused to take a sip of coffee but never took his gaze from my face. “Then I got up and went for a run around the property.”
I swallowed hard and adjusted in my seat, trying to tamp down the instant surge of achy heat spreading throughout my entire body. He had stayed all night with me. And that made the giggly girl in me take notice.
But the fact remained that I wasn’t that girl and needed to stop being so affected by Rhys. Maybe if we could just get naked and wild, I could show him, show myself, that my issues were coming more from being sexually frustrated than being head over ass for the guy. Or maybe I was looking for any excuse to touch him.
“I have a question,” I asked. “You said you wanted this to stay platonic between us, yet you say things like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like . . .” I waved my hand in his direction, “about the dreaming moans I made.”
“Ah, yes.” He smiled
at the ceiling, knowing full well what I was talking about but wanting me to just say it out loud.
“You’re sending mixed messages.”
“Am I?” He took another sip. “I think I’ve been pretty clear. I like you, I’ve admitted to that and to why.”
“But you don’t want to have sex with me,” I shot back, my body feeling like a pressure cooker.
“I never said that. In fact, I’d very much like to.”
“Then what the hell? You’re being more cryptic than a damn girl.” I didn’t know what exactly I was arguing about; I mostly just wanted some clarity because it felt like I was having withdrawal from Rhys.
He had been so close last night, and nothing. The thought of experiencing the intensity we shared that night at his hotel was starting to consume my brain. And the fact that I didn’t know how to make that happen or how to stay away from him, was maddening.
“I told you I didn’t want to play a game. You’re set on keeping me in this box of fuck-buddy, which would be fine if you were just honest about it.”
“I have been!”
“No, you keep telling me and trying to convince yourself that all I am is just a one-nighter to you.”
“Jesus, are you always so emotional when it comes to sex?”
“I just like to call it what it is,” he said.
“And what is that? What is between us that you think requires a different word than just fucking?”
Those gray eyes ate me up in one penetrating gaze and he said, “Intense.” He shook his head. “I’d be stupid not to want that, not to want you. But until you can be honest with yourself, I’m not taking advantage of you.”
“Taking advantage? Is that what you think?”
My heart leapt at the same time it sank. He felt it too. The intensity between us. That connection I was trying to get back without having to admit that was what I was going for.
At least if Rhys wasn’t on to the fact that I craved him, maybe I could salvage some of my pride. But he was on to me, damn it. The last thing I wanted was to confuse what this was with emotions. There was not only a clock on our time together, but there were miles of differences. His world didn’t have a place for me and my world currently didn’t have a foundation.