Capture Me Slowly

by Joya Ryan

  “People do things out of fear,” he said. “That night you came to my room, you were scared, but you were honest. You wanted me in spite of the situation. Not because of it.”

  Shit. Every single thought and feeling was warring in my head. I knew I was a bad liar, that Rhys seemed to know my reaction to him, and it once again gave him the upper hand.

  Street Emma would be so pissed at me right now. Rhys seemed to be one step ahead of me, calling things out and making me feel things I didn’t know how to handle.

  I wanted that night back. Wanted to feel that kind of soul-shattering fire he unleashed over my body. But I wanted it without strings.

  “I love how you think you’re some kind of mind reader.”

  “I read people, Emma.”

  “And how did you learn to do that?”

  His eyes did that haunted thing I’d seen once before. “Training.”

  I put my hands on the counter and leaned in. “You know all this stuff about me. All the unflattering past crap. Tell me something about you, Rhys. You seem to have a grip on why I am the way I am and have no issue pointing it out. Why are you the way you are?”

  His face was like stone. Challenging. But I didn’t look away.

  “What did you do for the military?” I asked.

  “My unit was stationed in Afghanistan working with locals to gain intel on the Taliban.”

  Now I felt like the one with a face made a stone, but for a totally different reason. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t begin to even think right. I wasn’t expecting that kind of answer. He was sharing something true about himself with me. By choice. It made me feel . . . special.

  “So you were like GI Joe?” I asked.

  “Sort of. These people were looking for a way out. Many of them just trying to survive, keep their families alive while their town was being overrun by the Taliban. It took a while to gain their trust, but eventually we started making progress. They’d gather information, let us know where the newest attack was going and tell us so we could go in before they planted any more IEDs.”

  “Jesus,” I whispered.

  Rhys had said he’d been there a long time. Must have made friends with some of these people. One thing I’d be wanting to ask about, that stood out, was the shrapnel scars. But before I could, he rose and put his cup in the sink.

  “Now you know a bit about me and you’re right, we’re even.” He walked past the table and toward the bathroom. “I’m going to shower,” he said, shutting the door and shutting off from the conversation as if it never happened.

  I looked down at my food, feeling more lost than ever before. Maybe it was time to try a different approach. What I was currently doing involved a hell of a lot of denial and fibbing, mostly to Rhys and myself, about certain feelings I was having. I was trying to keep things surface or at least pretend I didn’t like Rhys the way I did. But he had just opened up and let me see a part of himself. Of his past. A difficult past, it would seem. If he could be honest, maybe it was time I tried it too.

  Placing my hands on the table, I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to relax. Megan had tried to get me to meditate back when I first moved in. The woman was obsessed with breathing and attacking things logically. Guess it couldn’t hurt to give it a try.

  Deep breath . . .

  I cleared all my thoughts away. Thoughts of the past, of all the issues that currently surrounded me. Tried to even erase the fact that Rhys and I were brought up so differently. My eyes shot open.

  Though the path to adulthood was light years apart, maybe the final product of us being adults wasn’t so different. I had caught a glimpse of how we dealt with things similarly at the diner. This whole time I’d been asking myself how Rhys was able to read me the way he did? Why did I respond to him in a way I never responded to another? Why was there a connection between us and why was I drawn to him?

  Though he didn’t dish details about being overseas, the look on his face and tone of his voice spoke volumes. Rhys had seen some things, likely done some things, that changed a person. He obviously understood loss, fear, fighting against things unseen. Fighting to stay alive. Just fighting to keep your sanity in the hope that one day things will be better. Maybe that’s what we related to in each other.

  I closed my eyes once more and focused on my breathing. If Megan could see me now . . . I could almost hear her saying, “When you focus on breathing and empty your mind, you can see things you missed before.”

  Desperation must be setting in if I was finally giving in to this.

  Deep inhale.

  And out.

  I tried to watch it melt away. My past. Rhys’s past. All the unanswered questions. Where we were and why. I pictured him and me in a white room. Just us. Looking up at him, seeing only his thundering eyes, I asked myself a simple question: Do I want this man?

  The answer came quickly and was as simple as the question. I stood up, and marched toward the bathroom.

  “Yes!” I said loudly throwing open the door.

  “What?” Rhys asked from beneath the spray of the shower.

  “I said . . .” I tugged the curtain open, which surprised him a little, stepped into the stall, not caring that I was fully clothed and faced him. “Yes.”

  With the water hitting his back, he looked down at me. My God, I thought the man was fine dry, but wet he was beyond. He ran his palms over his head, smoothing back his hair so that tiny drops dripped from the ends and hit his shoulders. I watched those drops travel down his chest to his abs and lower . . .

  I licked my bottom lip, wishing it was his skin I tasted instead of my own.

  “Yes, what, Emma?”

  My gaze snapped up to his. He didn’t seem to mind me staring, or the fact that I had jumped into the shower with him. Steam surrounded me, making my skin dewy and my tank cling to my breasts. His eyes looked hot. Heavy. Burning.

  “Yes,” I said again. “I want you.”

  The only other time I had admitted this out loud was the night in his hotel room. He was right, fear made people do things, but that wasn’t why I had shown up that night. It was instinct.

  “I was just breathing at the table,” I started, then realized how dumb that sounded, but Rhys just gave a slight smile and let me continue. “And I asked myself, if everything else was stripped away,” I paused to take in his impressive physique, “if all this stuff didn’t exist and if I was just a woman, you were just a man, would I want you?”

  It took everything I had to keep my eyes on his, because for the first time in my life, I felt a little shy and my cheeks burned.

  “And the answer was yes.”

  Rhys’s mouth twitched at the corner and his body turned on. I was standing two feet away from him and could feel him hum like a revved-up muscle car. He touched my face, his palm damp against my cheek, and I loved the contrast between us. Between our skins.

  “Thank you for being honest,” he said and I glanced down. He gave a gentle tug on my jaw, coaxing my stare back to his. “Is it hard to admit that?”

  I nodded.

  “Why?”

  Might as well tell him the reason since I was offering full-out disclosure at the moment. Stupid breathing. I knew it could get me into trouble.

  “Because the truth comes with strings, Rhys. And if someone else is able to pull those strings, you give up your control. You weaken.”

  That look in his eyes was one I was coming to recognize. Sincerity.

  “I can see how you came to that conclusion.”

  He didn’t tell me he was sorry for me. Didn’t sugarcoat the issues or the fact that yeah, maybe my beliefs weren’t all happy and optimistic. He didn’t argue a different way to think, tell me why I was lacking or how I was wrong. He let me just be. Have my thoughts. Have my issues. And accepted me for who I was.

  “Don’t take this as a grand gesture that I’m going to be spouting off the truth from now on,” I said seriously.

  “Of course not.” He smiled and pulled my face
to his.

  His mouth was perfect. Wet and firm, his lips were thick and delectable. His tongue teased my lips, little drops of water falling from his face to mine and I lost all reason.

  Pressing against him, I swung my arms around his neck. He hoisted me up and I hooked my legs around his middle. He was naked and wet and I still had my little shorts and white tank on, which were getting more soaked by the second — in more than one way.

  Turning so that the shower was spraying our sides, he braced me against the tiled wall and devoured my mouth. I clung to him, never feeling hotter, more erotic than in that moment. He was addicting, and I was finally, finally, getting my fix. And I was coming apart for him already.

  “I like this look,” he said with a grin, pulling back enough to look down my front.

  My clothes were completely wet and my white tank now transparent, making my dusky nipples clearly visible, pouting for attention through the drenched cotton. Rhys being the body reader that he was, dipped his head and pulled one between his lips.

  “Oh, God,” I moaned. Just his mouth on me was enough to spark so much need it was busting my skin at the seams.

  The back of my head met the wall and I arched out, grinding my hips against his, riding his hard cock and loving how it slid between my legs. Even with the thin fabric barrier of my shorts, that rigid cock gliding over my clit was enough to send me screaming toward an orgasm.

  “You’re going to come like this, aren’t you?” he said, moving to the other breast. He pulled my nipple between his teeth and gently bit down.

  “Yes!” I cried out, my body so hot that the water that was hitting me felt like ice. “Keep doing what you’re doing and yes I will.”

  The way Rhys moved his body against mine, the way his strength surrounded me, I knew two things for certain. He could make me come harder than I ever had and he wouldn’t break his hold. He had me. I truly believed that. Which meant that I could let go.

  With his hands splayed on my ass, he tugged me closer, moving my lower body fluidly with his, so that every inch of his cock hit me dead center, right where I needed it, delivering zing after zing of pulsing pleasure from my core to my whole body.

  “Damn you’re sexy,” he rasped against my mouth. “Not even naked and the hottest thing I’ve seen in my shower. Let’s see if I can get you to come with your clothes on.”

  I gripped his shoulders and kissed him hard. Shoving my tongue into his mouth to take everything I could while he continued to take me higher and higher. I had never been so ready, so turned on, and we weren’t even having sex. Just his body working against mine — it almost scared me how in tune we were.

  “I’m there!” was all I gasped out as a sudden violent orgasm raced through my veins.

  My body convulsed and Rhys just held me tighter, riding out my pleasure, moving his body and keeping all those intense sparks simmering. I squeezed my legs until I felt his hip bones really grind against my inner thighs and knew there would be bruises.

  “That was amazing,” I said when I could, purring like a very content cat. Rhys kissed my lips, my chin, my neck and I slowly unlocked my legs and slid down his body. He let me. But I didn’t stop when I hit my feet. I just continued to sink to my knees.

  “What are you doing?” he rasped.

  I was eye level with his big, hungry cock. Poor thing was so hard it looked almost painful. Couldn’t have that.

  He was a magnificent piece of male in his prime and everything about him called to me. My mouth watered on its own just as drops came down from the shower and hit my head. Rhys looked down at me, his expression inscrutable.

  “I’m taking care of this,” I informed him and snaked my tongue over the crown. He groaned and his head went back just enough so the shower spray could drench it.

  “This isn’t a game, Emma. You don’t have to trade — ”

  I licked again, which cut off his words. “I’m doing this because I want to,” I said and looked up at him.

  This wasn’t a trade, a deal or any kind of exchange other than one of ecstasy.

  As I ran my hands up his powerful thighs, the smattering of blond hair tickled my palms, until I reached the shrapnel-scarred skin on his right side.

  The scars and welts only made him look tougher, while at the same time very raw. Very human. I wanted to know this man. Know what pained him. Know what he had gone through. Maybe in time he would tell me. For now, I wanted to bring him pleasure. Be something good for him.

  I gripped the base of his massive erection and he groaned again. He didn’t put up a fight. Didn’t try to reason with me or deny me. Keeping my gaze fused to his, I slowly licked around the tip.

  “Jesus, Emma.” He ran his fingers along my jaw softly. His thumb brushed my cheekbone.

  Closing my mouth over the crown, I sucked until my cheeks hollowed. That hand on my face moved to the back of my head and he wove his fingers into my hair. Never guiding, never pushing, just gripping. I loved it. A powerful charge burst into my bones and I realized that in this moment, I was the one overwhelming him.

  I took him deeper, keeping my eyes on his face, I blinked a few times to bat a few drops of water that landed on my lashes. When he hit the back of my throat, I kept him right there while my tongue moved along the underside of the crown and I pumped my fist.

  “Christ, baby, you’re so fucking good,” Rhys said on a strangled breath.

  I sucked harder, pumped faster. Taking him in and out until his hips slightly started pumping back, fucking my mouth as I took him again and again.

  “I’m going to come,” he rasped and pulled out.

  He thrust into my fist once, twice, and his release shot from him so forcefully that it hit my breasts. Even with the wet tank covering me, I watched as lash after lash coated my nipple. His big body shuddered.

  I had done that. I had caused him that much pleasure, and in that moment, I felt special. Every bit as sexy as he said I was just a moment ago.

  Catching his breath, he looked at me and clasped my shoulders, helping me to my feet. Grabbing the hem of my tank, he lifted it over my head and tossed it in the corner of the stall.

  “Are your knees okay?” he asked and bent enough to inspect them.

  “I’m good,” I said with a little shaky breathing of my own.

  He tugged my shorts down and I stepped from them. He tossed them to land by my top. Looking over my now naked body, he grinned.

  “What are you smiling about?” I asked, feeling the need to cover myself, but Rhys gently pulled on my wrist just as I brought it to my chest and brought me a little closer toward him.

  His smiled only widened and holy cow, Rhys Striker was amazing when he smiled. Like the sculpture of Adonis amazing.

  “That was just . . .” he shook his head, “wow.”

  He was using my words from the other day and I did giggle a little — then snorted. I slapped a palm over my mouth and my eyes went wide with embarrassment.

  Rhys just laughed, that impressive chest rumbling with the greatest sound I’d ever heard.

  “Just when I thought you couldn’t get more sexy.”

  “Snorting isn’t sexy,” I said against my palm, the words muffled.

  “I think it is. Don’t be shy.” He winked. “You have me feeling like a teenager with the need to thank you.”

  That made me laugh. “Careful, Thor, or you’ll give me and all my amazing skill a complex.” It was my turn to take some of his words and use them.

  “Oh, baby, I hate to tell you, but you deserve a complex because you,” he grabbed my other wrist, and pulled me fully under the spray with him, “are incredible.”

  Chapter Eight

  “You’ve got to be joking,” I said, climbing out of Rhys’s car, my eyes glued on the house he grew up in. And yes, there was a picket fence.

  The cute little white house had blue shutters and sat at the end of the cul-de-sac. There were even flower boxes beneath the windows of the second story. It was quaint, picturesque
and, like the two women I’d met already who were part of Rhys’s life, adorable as hell.

  As if on cue, a little dog came to the neighbor’s fence, wagging its tail.

  “This explains a lot,” I said and Rhys came to stand by me, holding the bottle of wine we’d bought, while I palmed the French bread.

  “What does?” he asked.

  I motioned to the house, then at him. “Why you are the way you are.”

  “You make that sound like a bad thing. It’s a neighborhood, not a ghetto.”

  Exactly. I bit my tongue and glanced down.

  “Emma, I didn’t mean it like that.” He ran his hand along the small of my back and I stepped away, breaking the connection.

  “I know. It’s cool.” I used my best “don’t care” voice. Problem was, Rhys was right. He wasn’t putting me down. He was just stating what I already knew. We grew up very differently. And with that came various ways to view things. A distinct mentality.

  “I wasn’t saying that this,” I glanced at the house, “was bad. Just different.”

  Different than me. The reminders were piling up, but this doll house turned real house was the icing on the cake.

  “You okay?” Rhys looked at me like I was going to keel over and it wasn’t until I saw the expression on his face that I realized I was shaking slightly and clutching the bread as if it was a lifeline. Ironic that spending time on the streets was less terrifying than staring down this house. I plumped up the bread, trying to straighten it and fix the damage my death grip caused.

  Rhys’ strong hands framed my face and he bent and looked at me. “Emma?”

  My vision cleared and I saw his gray eyes beaming back at me.

  “I’ve never done this,” I whispered before thinking better of it.

  “Never done what?”

  I stared at the house over his shoulder for a long minute, then looked back at him.

  “This.” I held up the bread. “This whole ‘let’s go to your mom’s house for dinner, I’ll bring the side dish and break out the backgammon board,’ this.”