Page 118 of Only After We Met

Anxious, I took off my dress and showered. My hair was a disaster, knotty and full of sand. When I got out a half hour later, the apartment smelled of coffee and Rhys was in the kitchen, his back to the door. I watched him a moment, cleared my throat, and walked in. He looked at me askance and dumped a few teaspoons of sugar into his cup.

“You were gone when I got up.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“I went to get coffee. We were out.”

“Thanks. I think I need it.”

He stood back from the counter when I came to serve myself. But I couldn’t. I was still trying to decide what cup to use when I felt his eyes on me, his chest swelling before he spoke, his hands putting down the cup he’d picked up.

“What happened last night…” he began.

“I know. It shouldn’t have happened.” I didn’t bother looking at him. I didn’t want to.

“It’s too risky.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “A terrible idea.”

“You. Me. It could be a catastrophe.”

“Yeah. Best to avoid it.”

“Okay.” He stepped closer to me.

“Okay.” I held my breath.

And a few seconds later, he was grasping my chin in his fingers and our gazes intertwined just before he gave me a quick, savage, nervous kiss. I moaned, surprised. He lifted me up and sat me on the white kitchen table. I wrapped my legs around his hips, pulling him into me, breathing hard. It was just like that with him. We went from zero to infinity in a matter of a second, losing control, our minds going blank. I’d never wanted anyone so bad. I’d never had another person so close to me and yet needed them to be even closer, impossible as it was. I sank my hands in his hair and pulled softly as his lips got lost in the neckline of my loose dress.

“Rhys…”

“What?”

“What does this mean?”

“I don’t know.” His pupils were dilated, his gray eyes unusually dark, his hands already under my dress. “It means my desireis stronger than my fear of losing you.” He pulled at my underwear. “And yet I’m terrified of losing you. Of something…breaking between us. But when I look at you…”

I untied the knot in the drawstring of his sweatpants, and he groaned and sank his tongue into my mouth.

“We won’t let anything break.”

“Promise me.” He stroked my cheek.

“I promise, Rhys. I do.”

He let out the breath he’d been holding and lifted my dress, and his body molded itself to mine: deep, wild, and yet tender when he held me close. I was breathless, and I bit his shoulder, clutched him tighter, still sitting on the table. His back was straight, his body tense, his heart pounding. I felt full of him, full of something so intense that I didn’t want to name it while the pleasure absorbed me. Rhys moved quicker now. Later, I would still feel a tickle when I thought of this moment: our muffled cries, his face as he sank inside me, the strength of him as he pushed in, my nails digging into his back. We barely kissed. We bit each other, stared into each other, felt each other. We let ourselves go.

And I guess something did change…

Because we got lost.

64

Rhys

Ginger grinned slowly as I proposed we strike the itemDo something crazyoff her list. We went that afternoon to a tattoo shop. And we got the same thing. Something little, but ours. A crescent moon on each of our wrists.

She was the first person I’d ever gotten a matching tattoo with.

And even then, I knew she’d be the last.