Red Hot Rebel C57
“Oh, you did.”
Rhys turns his head to mine. “What was the question exactly? Do I have sex often?”
“Yes. I can specify, if I must.” I duck my head down, looking at him. “When was the last time you had sex before me?”
“Two weeks ago, I think? Well, three and a half now, I guess.”
“The person you kissed?”
“The very one.”
The response isn’t the one I wanted, and perhaps he notices that, because Rhys’s smile is crooked. He runs a hand down my bare back and my eyes flutter in pleasure at the simple touch. “Not a relationship, just a casual friend.”
“You have a lot of casual friends?”
“I only have casual friends,” he says, smoothing up my spine.
“How come?” I ask. “You know why I haven’t had serious relationships, but what’s your excuse?”
“Lack of interest in one,” Rhys says, his hand continuing its movement over my back. His fingers are lightly callused, reminding me in yet another way how different he is than the man I’d thought he was.
“I can’t believe that.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You can’t?”
“No. I think everyone wants deeper human connection. It’s a need, like thirst or hunger.”
He reaches over to rest his forehead against mine, and my eyes flutter closed. “You,” he says, “are starting to overthink this.”
I release a breath. “Is it that obvious?”
“A little, which is fine. Only natural.” His hand settles around my hip. “I did let you ask any questions you want, and these are no different.”
“I guess I’m just curious about what happens when we get back to New York.”
“If we’ll keep exploring, you mean?”
“I suppose, yes. Or if we’ll even continue being friends.” A thought strikes me. “Because we truly are friends now, aren’t we?”
Rhys’s lips curve into a smile. “We’re friends. And to answer your question, I don’t know, Ives. Let’s live in the moment and see where the days take us.”
Live in the moment. The one thing an inveterate planner is not good at. But I relax into his touch and close my eyes, determined to try. After all, we have a lot of exploring left to do, and I don’t want to waste a minute of it.
Ivy
Rhys has his eyes closed in the first-class seat next to mine, but he’s breathing through clenched teeth. I’d noticed his dislike of flying on our first flight, and the subsequent bad mood, but I couldn’t think of a way to help him then. I still can’t, but we’re not strangers anymore.
So I put a tentative hand over his on the armrest between us. “Is there anything I can do?”
He looks over at me, eyes blank and expression harsh. But then something like embarrassment flickers over his expression and his clenched jaw softens. “No,” he says.
“I wish there was.” I keep my hand on his, my thumb moving in small circles. “My sister doesn’t like flying either.”
“Hmm.” His hand is still clenched beneath mine, but he’s looking at me.
“She’s two years younger than me.”
“Mine is four.”
“Your sister is four years younger?”
“Just about.” Beneath my hand, his relaxes on the death grip. “Tell me about yours.”
“Her name is Penny,” I murmur. “She’s completely fearless, not at all like me. She’ll rush into any situation, convinced she’ll be able to manage. She most often does, too, but I can’t tell if it’s a consequence of her attitude or skill.”
Rhys snorts softly. “Sounds like my sister too.”Content is © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.
“Really?” I settle back into my seat and run careful fingers up his arm, back down to his hand again. “We’re really close. Always have been, but I think our mother leaving helped with that. With us turning to one another, I mean.”
He nods, eyes on mine. “Mhm.”
I turn in my chair, tucking my legs up beneath me, and thread our fingers together. “What do your siblings think of your father?” I ask. “Considering you don’t speak to him, they must have thoughts on him too.”
Rhys gives a single shake of his head. “We’re not making this flight any worse than it already is by adding a discussion of my dad on top of it.”
“You’re right. My bad.” My thumb rubs a circle on the back of his large hand. “But should I keep distracting you?”
“Yes.”
I nod, thinking, and let my gaze travel down his form. His legs are stretched out fully in front of him. “You’re very tall,” I comment. “How do you manage when flying coach?”
The familiar smirk ghosts across his face. “I don’t.”
I snort. “Right. I forgot you were richer than the federal government.”
“Oh, we’re not that rich.” He waves a dismissive hand before returning it to the armrest. “People always like to inflate fortunes.”
“After a certain amount of money, rich just becomes rich to the rest of us,” I tease. “The nuances are only important for the wealthy themselves.”
“That’s most definitely true.” Rhys tugs at the top button of his shirt, but doesn’t move his hand locked in mine.
“Thank you for the extra day you got us in Bali.”
His gaze lands on mine. “I was perhaps a tad selfish in requesting it.”
“I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the jungle…” I bend to press a kiss to his hand. “I enjoyed the beach…” I press a kiss to his cheek. “And I enjoyed your lessons.”
He turns his head for my third. It’s a slow, soft kiss, one that makes my insides melt. “This,” he murmurs, “is an excellent way to distract me.”