When Jules woke up in Rhys’s arms, she melted against him, content in a way she had never known. He called her baby and commanded her orgasms like he was conjuring a spell. He whispered to her in the dark of night and held her hand throughout the day.
Her heart squeezed. This was so much more than ten-out-of-ten sex. They ignited fireworks and sparklers in her heart. Rhys made her heart happy. It was that simple.
All these years they’d been together, some of them passing when she thought she hated him, others when she couldn’t trust him, had been leading them to this—a future together.
Her arms slipped over his bare chest.
“Morning, baby,” he whispered against her neck in that sleep-drenched, half-awake way that made her feel like the center of his world. “Awake long?”
She shook her head and snaked her leg around his. She couldn’t be close enough. “You have to tell Viv.” If she hadn’t let her phone die last night, Jules might even call Vivian herself. She couldn’t get enough of Rhys. “Will you talk to her today? About us?”
He blinked, rubbing his face, then turned on his side to face her. “You and me, huh? That’s what you want?”
“It’s always been you and me.” Her heartbeat picked up. “It’s just more now.”
Rhys stroked her hair and tucked it behind her ear. “It’ll change things.”
They would be together. He couldn’t be her bodyguard, but just be by her side. “Wes can work my events.”
Rhys chuckled. “Man, he’s gonna kick my ass for that.” But he rolled his lips together, sobering. “Wes will do it. No problem.”
“I know you avoid everyone in Hollywood like the plague, but who else do you work with?”
He pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Think less celebrities and more DC type. Politicos. People with money. Those traveling overseas, where they probably shouldn’t be. Family members of public figures.”
“Anyone else who you’ve fake dated?” she asked, a smile pulling at her lips.
“Not a single one.” He toyed with strands of her hair. “But I travel a lot.”
“Itravel a lot,” she countered, then released an exhausted sigh. “I’m so over what I do.” She’d never admitted that out loud. “Don’t tell anyone.”
A grin hitched on his handsome face. “You’ve seemed over it since your twenty-ninth birthday.”
“Was that the one with the big cake with sparklers?”
“In West Hollywood? No. I think the twenty-ninth was frat boys stopping traffic to take selfies.”
“Did I ever tell you that Aaliyah and Yasmin think Tabitha told people we were there? I never told Abs, because she’d kill her, but I’ve always thought they were right.”
“I don’t put anything past her. If she could step into your life—” Rhys faltered, his hand stilling in her hair, as if a thought had caught him off guard.
Jules snuggled against him, needing his fingers to play with her hair. “Did Wes bring Abigail home yet?”
Rhys refocused on her hair. “God, I hope so. If she’s not rolling around in spreadsheets by the end of the week, she might not forgive you for forcing a vacation on her.”
Clyde padded into the room and whimpered good morning.
“Someone’s hungry.” Rhys rubbed Clyde’s head. “He usually has my attention earlier in the morning.”
The dog whimpered again.
“All right. I’ll let you out.” Rhys lumbered out of bed, finger-combed his hair, which Jules had messed up the night before, and tugged on gray sweatpants before kissing her on the forehead. “And I’ll start your coffee.”
Clyde pressed his front paws onto the bed and gave Jules a good-morning lick then trotted after Rhys.
This life called to her. She didn’t want to go home, didn’t want to deal with red carpets or the insane publicity ideas Sloanedeveloped. Jules wanted to watch her man wake up, pet his dog, and make her coffee.
Not that she wanted to give up her career for a man. She wasn’t an idiot. But there had to be a middle ground. They’d find it. She had no doubt.
