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“What did you think it was?” I ask.
“I thought it was the best sex I’ve ever had, and I want it again.”
TWENTY-FOUR
I’m glad I got a small break after sex with Rhys. My clitoris was straight up bruised after he used that toy on me last week. The time apart has also given me more opportunities to contemplate what it is we’re doing.
I told myself I was done with fuckboys and wanted a relationship, something real. Like renting an apartment versus buying a home. For some people, renting works great for them, they can do it for their whole lives. It certainly has its perks. There’s more independence. Other people rent for a while until they feel like they’ve settled down with a career and then they are ready to put down roots and make an investment. A commitment. And there’s the last group. They’ll jump right into home-owning because somebody once told them it was slutty to “shop around.” Fuck that noise.
It seems like casual sex is the only option for us. But... a few more times wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. He’s right, we have off-the-charts bedroom chemistry... And kitchen chemistry... And stairwell chemistry.
And I’ve changed my outfit four times. Four. It’s not a date, it’s sex.He doesn’t care what you wear; it’s your pussy he wants.
Rhys: You’re late.
Me: Had to finish up a few things, I’ll be there in a sec
Rhys: Don’t make me wait any longer or I’ll come over there and get you myself.
Me: Don’t tempt me with a good time. ??
My hair and makeup look fine, but the clothes elude me. I don’t want to appear too eager. What’s wrong with me? I don’t get nervous for dates.
This isn’t a date.
I can’t help that something about Rhys makes me want to put in the extra effort, which is why tonight I’m going in there with my body groomed and primed. I’m prepared for anything.
I can’t change my clothes a fifth time, I hate being late. Especially after all my threats to him about tardiness, the last thing I want to do is give him a reason to retaliate. It’s a short sundress with a floral print. I had to dig it out of the back of my closet. I’m used to wearing a lot of black. But figured, what the hell, he might get a rise out of seeing me in something a little more feminine and innocent. He likes me sweet. And the more he likes me tonight, the harder he’ll work. Pretty sure my math checks out.
I hustle the short distance between our front doors. He swings it open before I can even knock.
“Sorry I’m late. I didn’t want to come.”
“Don’t lie to me. That’s the whole reason you’re here, Hellcat.” He grabs my arm and yanks me inside, kicking the door shut and pushing me up against it. This is the shit I showed up for. He boxes me in with his arms.
“What the hell are you wearing?”
“My tuxedo?” I should probably cool it with the sarcasm or he’s really going to get me tonight. Oh well.
He grabs my jaw while he appraises me. “You look very pretty in this dress, Freya Girl.”
I let my eyes roam over his body. Freshly showered, tight shirt, nice jeans. No socks this time. Ugh, he’s so handsome.
“I hope you’re ready to behave tonight.”
My thighs press together. “No.”
“No?”
“You want me to play nice? You first.”
He sweeps my hair off my shoulders and lifts my chin up so he’s gazing in my eyes. His lips move to my shoulder, and he skates the tip of his tongue up my neck and behind my ear. Opening his mouth, his teeth graze over my skin back down again.Chills.The restraint he exhibits makes me feel warm and wanted.
“I plan to be very nice to you, Freya Girl.” A small shudder rolls up my spine.
His mouth brushes over mine, and he coaxes my lips apart for our tongues to meet. It feels like we are healing old wounds and making up for all the harsh words we’ve hurled at each other until this point.
“You’re staying the night,” he mutters, dropping a kiss to my cheek. “Don’t argue.”
