by Vivian Wood
Milo was now on the floor, staring numbly at Anders’ unmoving body. Rhys was still shaking Anders’ shoulders and not so lightly slapping his unconscious face. Then he let out a feral yell and started punching things. The lamp on the coffee table, then it was the coffee table itself, the leg snapping straight off.
Without conscious thought of what she was doing, she walked over to him, knelt next to him, pulled him into her arms and held him tightly to her chest. She rocked him ever so slightly.
By the time she realized what she was doing, he had, to her eternal surprise, put his arms around her and was now leaning into her, drawing fast deep breaths against her chest.
“Shh,” she said in what she hoped was a soothing voice and ran her fingers through his hair over and over again. “The paramedics are on their way. He’s going to be okay. They’re on their way. They’re going to help him.”
She continued like this for a while. Milo was still sitting on the floor, but was now watching them with a strange expression on his face.
“Milo, could you please grab the keys and let the ambulance in the gate when it gets here?” She tried to keep her voice soothing, but urgent enough that it broke through Milo’s thoughts and urged him into motion.
Wordlessly, seemingly stunned into silence, he did what she asked.
Within minutes, he was back in the room, paramedics in tow. Rhys was back in control now and had disentangled himself from her.
He was answering the paramedics’ questions, eyes still wild, but his voice as strong and steady as ever.
“Rhys, give me your phone, baby,” she asked as the EMTs finished strapping Anders onto a stretcher.
Baby? Well, she didn’t know where that came from, but it had worked.
He slipped his phone out of his pocket and handed it over without question. She unlocked his phone with the pattern she had seen him make many times over the past few days and sent off quick texts to Deacon and Annie to alert them of the situation.
Rhys grabbed her hand as they followed the paramedics out to the ambulance and held her gaze for a second before hopping in the back of the ambulance with Anders and the techs.
“Milo will bring you to the hospital to meet us, okay?” His voice was confident, unwavering. He didn’t even look toward Milo for confirmation before the ambulance doors swung shut and they raced toward the hospital.
Milo locked the front door of Anders’ house with the set of keys still in his hands from letting the paramedics in and went to hold open the Mustang’s door for her to get in.
He was quiet on the way to the hospital, eyes wild and clearly still a little in shock. As they pulled up to the hospital, he turned to her for the first time and fixed her with that strange expression back on his face.
“You know, that wasn’t fake back there. Thank you.” Without more words, they both got out of the car and ran to the emergency room. As much as she was worried about Anders and torn apart by what Rhys must have been going through, she couldn’t help but play Milo’s words over in her head. He had seemed so sure as he said them. Not fake? Really? She wasn't so sure about that. Surely, Rhys couldn’t have real feelings for her? Could he? Her head swirled, but she pushed all these thoughts aside as they stepped into the emergency room.
Rhys was pacing the hallway. He said nothing but he pulled her to him, holding onto her tightly for a few seconds, breathing deeply and running a hand up and down her back before letting her go to resume his pacing. Milo just leaned back on the wall and screwed his eyes shut.
Minutes later, Deacon and Annie arrived. Annie looked beautiful and under control as she marched confidently toward them, barking something into the smartphone that seemed permanently glued to her ear, and Deacon shouting at someone at the other end of his own phone.
No one said anything. Rhys alternated between pacing and holding her. Milo was a statue against the wall and Deacon and Annie were both still talking into their phones. They barely acknowledged them and were talking too fast to make out their words at that distance.
An indeterminate amount of time later, a doctor appeared at her side. She had become lost as she stared at Rhys, and reveled in every moment that she could offer comfort to him.
“Mr. Grant?” he looked to Rhys, who had stopped pacing the second the doctor had made his appearance and had pulled her tight to his side again.
“Your brother is going to be okay. You got him here just in time. We’re going to keep him for a few days under observation, but he’s out of the woods. Just needs to rest now. You can come back to see him tomorrow.”
Rhys, Milo and she breathed a collective sigh of relief and as soon as the doctor walked away, Deacon and Annie were there, assuring Rhys that they had done and would keep doing everything in their power to keep Anders out of the news.
Deacon’s beady little eyes looked her over. “There’s a limo waiting outside to take you home. It’s not going to be easy to keep the press from finding out about this though, Rhys, you might want to make use of your little distraction here.” He sneered.
For just a minute, she had felt like part of their family, but Deacon’s words reverberated in her head. She wasn't part of the family, she was just the ”distraction,” as Deacon had so eloquently reminded her.
“Don’t you ever fucking call her that ever again!” Rhys seethed next to her, the anger radiating from him almost palpable. He seriously looked like he was about to start throwing punches again. She could almost feel how tightly wound he was, clenching his fists at his sides, the muscles rolling in his arms.
Instead though, he took a deep breath and then dragged her to the waiting limo without another word to Milo, Deacon or Annie. She could hear furious whispers behind their retreating backs, and she heard Milo’s loud, “Fuck you, Deacon!” reverberate around the emergency room. Thankfully, it was relatively empty and the people that were there looked only slightly alarmed before going back to whatever it was they were doing.
When they reached the limousine, Rhys let go of her only long enough for both of them to get into the luxurious vehicle, door being held open by an elderly man that was actually wearing a hat. As soon as he slid in next to her, he pulled her firmly to his side, holding on tight and draping his arm across her shoulders but staring straight ahead.
The privacy shield was already up and the second that the door slammed behind them, Rhys reached his hands up to cup her face, and fixed his burning gaze on her, his eyes searching for something in hers. He seemed to find it, because he slid one hand onto the back of her neck, drawing her in and pressed his lips hungrily to hers.
Her lips had parted as soon as she had felt his hot touch on her cheek, so his tongue now easily slid into her mouth. His slick tongue danced with hers, kneading it and exploring her mouth. His kiss consumed her, making her see stars and feel nothing but his lips and his hard chest against hers. Her whole body radiated with heat as she kissed him back with everything she had in her limited arsenal, her hands finally running freely through his hair. He made a low noise in the back of his throat at her light tugs and he kissed her even harder, as if he was underwater and she was the air he so urgently sought.
She felt one of his hands sliding up her thigh, gripping the skin under her dress and it was almost pathetic how badly she wanted to feel that hand sliding even farther up and into her. She had never experienced a want like this, this desperation to feel his hands on her.
He stroked her inner thigh with his callused hand, still kissing her as if his life depended on it. Somehow, without breaking the kiss that was setting fire raging through her blood, he was on top of her and she could feel his hardness pressing into her through their pesky clothes. A moan escaped from somewhere inside of her at the thought that this beautiful man could possibly be hard for her, but he was steel against her thigh. Triumph!
He let out a low growl at her moan and reached further up under her dress. His fingers grazed over her sensitive clit, causing her body to start shaking and an almost painful n
eed for him to continue touching her. He danced his fingers lightly along the edge of her underwear, grinding his hips while still dominating her mouth with his. She knew he could feel the heat radiating off her, and she moaned into his mouth again as he dipped his fingers under the elastic of her panties.
He kicked into a higher gear, one hand teasing along the seam of her sex and the other pulling her right breast free from her bra and thumbing her hard nipple as he back arched and she tried to press herself somehow closer to him. She needed more, she needed him.
Her body was responding to his talented hands in a way that it had never responded before, and she could feel heat pooling between her legs. She never wanted this to stop.
He pulled off her soaked panties, still running his fingers along the seam of her sex, breaking off their kiss for only a second to whisper, “God, you’re so fucking wet for me” before bringing his lips back to hers with the hunger of a starving man. He stroked a slow circle around her now exposed clit and she saw fireworks, and another moan - much louder now - escaped. He flicked it softly, with just the right amount of pressure and ran his finger down through her wetness and slid it inside her. The feeling was exquisite, she squirmed, but she still needed more. Her hips had started rolling against him of their own accord and she couldn’t seem to stop them - not that she tried to.
She reached for his jeans and cupped his hard, thick length over them, squeezing and running her hand up and down over the material. He gave another low growl. “Christ Serena, what’re you fucking doing to me?” She moaned into his mouth, encouraged by his words. She squeezed him harder, stroked him with the palm of her hand as she fumbled with his button, opened his zipper and dipped her hand into his underwear.
He reached down and managed to pull off his jeans and his underwear by the time her aroused mind had caught up to what was happening. She could feel his hard cock stroking her slit, right at her entrance, when she heard her own voice.
“Wait!” She surprised herself as much as she thought she surprised him. She broke off the best kiss she'd ever had, her mind hazy with lust and her voice laced with desire, despite the word she had spoken. He stilled his hand immediately, withdrawing from her and she felt like crying from the sudden absence of his touch.
“I can’t, Rhys. Not like this,” she begged quietly. Of course, he had no way of knowing that what she was talking about was losing her virginity in the back of a limousine, but he clearly got the message and within seconds, he was sitting fully clothed again at the other end of the bench, not touching her at all.
“Rhys, it’s just,” she began.
“No, Serena. I shouldn’t have. Don’t know what the fuck I was thinking.”
“Rhys, please, it’s not that, I-” she tried again, but he didn’t let her finish.
“Drop it, Serena. Fuck.” He pulled his hands through his long hair and let out a long, frustrated breath.
No more words were spoken between them on the ride back to his house. He didn’t so much as even look at her.
Fuck. She should’ve handled that better.
14
Days had gone by since she had almost lost her virginity to Rhys in the back of that limo. He had gone out again after, but hadn’t told her that he was leaving or where he was going. Or who he was with… The pit in her stomach felt heavier every time she started thinking about who he might be spending time with. He’d been pretty riled up and for a man not known for monogamy, who was essentially and in truth single, she was quite sure he hadn’t spent the night moping around and crying occasionally like she had.
In the time that had followed, she honestly couldn’t say that she'd spoken to him much. He didn’t seem interested in speaking to her, conversation between them, when it happened at all, was strained and mostly consisted of no more than a few words. They still went out every day, but not for more than an hour.
Yesterday was just a quick trip to a nearby store for some groceries they didn’t need. He usually just had everything delivered and the last delivery had been perfectly on time.
It was clear to her that he just didn’t want to spend more time with her than that. She'd tried talking to him, to explain, but he simply cut her off and refused to hear her out.
Her skin still tingled every time he touched her, they had to keep up appearances after all and she desperately wanted him to kiss her again, but he barely even looked at her when they weren't out and even then, there was something different in the way he looked at her. He was guarded. Even when they were out, their kisses had been reduced to a quick peck on the cheek or forehead.
She'd tried to satisfy the ache that still lived between her legs every time she relived the scene that had played out in the limo, but she hadn’t had any luck. It was still there. If her vagina could talk, she was pretty sure it would have been hurling insults and curses at her all week. In fact, she was quite sure it was getting revenge by denying her what they both needed by not being satisfied with her touch at all.
Anders had been discharged from hospital, but other than that, Rhys hadn’t told her much of anything. Not what he did or where he went, he was never home unless it was to pick her up for their daily outing or when he would drop her off.
Yesterday, she’d ventured into the home gym, hoping to blow off some steam for the first time since their last session with Marco. Rhys must have had Marco training him somewhere else.
The novelty of being there without him had long since worn off, and she was just looking for something to distract her. She'd never been one for tedious exercise, but it seemed like as good a distraction as any. Distraction. The word felt ugly to her now and reverberated in her skull, Deacon's derisive voice screamed it at her all the time.
Though she hadn’t seen him, he’d clearly been down there.
Still, she had this crazy need to be close to him, so she grabbed a discarded t-shirt that he had thrown off god knows when and inhaled the scent. Sweat and Rhys’ slightly woody aftershave. Everything but Rhys himself.
Milo had texted her the morning after the limo disaster, but he’d left her with more questions than answers. She scrolled back to their short conversation, staring at her phone like it could give her the answers she needed.
Milo: What the fuck happened, Sese?
Serena: What do you mean?
Milo: You and Rhys. What happened?
Serena: Nothing! Really… Just a misunderstanding, but he won’t let me explain…
Milo: Fuck. Okay.
Serena: Why? Is he okay?!
Milo: No, he’s like a caged fucking animal. I gotta run. Later, Sese.
And that was it. Radio silence from Camp Milo from there on out. She’d tried reaching out to him, but the man who she had started seeing as her surrogate brother was ignoring her. She could see he was reading her messages, he was just choosing not to answer.
Deacon and Annie had done a great job at keeping Anders’ overdose out of the press, as promised, but with sightings of Rhys and Serena in public having declined so drastically in such a short period of time, rumors had started running wild.
She'd spoken to Mary and Katie, both of whom sounded really worried about her, but she'd managed to calm them down. They had wanted to visit yesterday, but the paparazzi were still camped out outside and she wouldn’t know what to say to them anyway. So instead, she had told them that Rhys and she had plans and searched for traces of him online.
This is ridiculous, she thought, scrolling through the articles that had been published just since yesterday. Some journalists speculated that they had broken up, while others speculated that they were planning a secret wedding.
One particularly imaginative journalist was quite convinced that she had been forced to abort Rhys’ baby by his band members who didn’t approve and weren’t ready for a Misery baby.
Where did they come up with this stuff?
With little distraction however, there were also scores of articles speculating about why Luc hadn’t been seen in weeks, seve
ral journalists unknowingly hitting the nail on the head with speculation about rehab and others reporting that Anders had been hospitalized, but that the reason for the hospitalization was unclear.
News of the OD was under wraps for now, but it was clear that the vultures were circling. People were starved for news from the band, but not enough news was forthcoming from the band itself, so some journalists seemed to have decided that they would just make news up.
She kind of understood their frustration, however, since she had also been frozen out. Despite living with the Guitar Prince himself.
Just then, her phone beeped, signaling an incoming text.
Can’t talk now, will call later. Not going to be able to pick you up today. Will ask Annie throw the paps a bone to play with today, planning something big.
-R
Such a romantic! She smirked as she reread his text. What kind of bone was he planning on throwing? They hadn’t been out properly for days? She gave up…
Resigned to yet another day alone, she grabbed her phone, earphones and Kindle and headed outside. These past few days she had spent so much time alone here, that she had explored every nook and cranny of the house and garden and she was pretty sure she knew it better than Rhys now.
She stretched out in one of the loungers next to the pool, making sure that she was fully in the shade of the large umbrella, and started reading. She must have dozed off, because next thing she knew, her phone was ringing and Rhys’s face - giving her that smile she hadn’t seen in days- was staring out at her from the screen.
What were the chances that the person you were dreaming about was the reason you woke up? Little to none. So she answered the phone, trying to force herself to be casual, but not entirely convinced that she wasn't dreaming.
“Hi,” she answered in a quiet voice.
In the back of her mind, she knew it probably wouldn't be long before he told her to leave. She just hoped that today was not that day.