Page 120 of Quiet Longing

A small, barely there smirk graced my lips. “I’m thinking … how can I sneak you upstairs to my bedroom without my aunt or uncle noticing?”

He let out a deep, masculine chuckle that I felt all the way to the pit of my stomach as his hand cupped my cheek. “I think we’ve done enough sneaking around for one day.”

“I politely disagree,” I countered, drawing a handsome smile from him that somehow managed to light me up from within.

Rhys tutted. “So demanding.” His mouth went to my ear. “What to do with you?”

“I already—"

“I can’t wait to sink my cock inside you, Charli. I haven’t forgotten how well we fit.”

With that one statement, he withdrew, leaving me reeling as I leaned against the wall, heart pounding. Rhys reached the door, turning back to say, “If you need me this weekend, call me. I won’t be busy.”

And then he left. I wasn’t sure how long I remained standing there, but it was only when I finally pushed away from the wall and fixed my skirt back down that I realised he hadn’t returned my underwear.

***

Perhaps it was the two orgasms Rhys had given me the day before, but I woke on Saturday morning energised and ready to face the day. I got right work to work where I’d left off on my mortgage application and started doing more research on theprocess of buying a house in Ireland. All the while, my mind kept drifting back to Rhys, his hand in my panties, his mouth between my legs.

I was in and out of daydreams all morning when I stumbled across an article with advice for potential home buyers. It detailed how certain sellers with an emotional attachment to the house they were selling wanted to know it was going to someone who would care for and appreciate it as much as they did. I thought of the little house next door to Rhys’ with its butterfly theme and lovingly renovated interior. Melanie and Kevin obviously loved their house and were sad to leave, but it just wasn’t large enough to start a family in.

The article went on to suggest that writing a letter to the sellers telling them what the house would mean to you could be a way of convincing them to accept your offer. It felt like a good idea since it would take at least a few more weeks before I was ready to put in an offer, and the house could be sold by then.

So, I borrowed some fancy stationary from Uncle Padraig’s office and set to work. I re-read the letter several times before sealing it in a cream coloured envelope. I was far too restless to drop it at the nearest post office, though. It was the weekend, and posting the letter meant it could take days before it reached Melanie and Kevin.

That felt like an eternity when I was filled with such urgency. Impulsively, I grabbed my things and headed out. It took almost an hour to reach Rhys’ street using public transport, and when I stood outside the pastel blue door with the butterfly knocker, I once again felt like the house was perfect for me. Even its placement on the street felt right with its south-facing back garden.

It was difficult to explain why I wanted the house so much, but the feeling was just there, impossible to ignore. It overrode all other thoughts like would I regret putting myself in debt justfor a house? Or would the new sexual element to mine and Rhys’ friendship be complicated further by me moving in next door?

I pushed all those questions and worries aside as I slid the letter through the mailbox, then nodded to myself. It was the right move. I could feel it in my bones.

When I turned, I spotted Rhys’ car parked next to the sidewalk. Well, it would be a waste to come all that way and not pay him a visit, right? Plus, he had mentioned he wasn’t going to be busy all weekend, so I knocked.

A minute later, the door opened. Rhys appeared in a T-shirt, sweatpants, and bare feet. His hair was damp like he’d just taken a shower. My brain took a second to fire up.

“Charli, hey,” he said, motioning me inside without question. I loved that about him, how chill he was.

“Do you want some tea? Coffee?”

“Tea is good. Herbal if you have it,” I replied, and Rhys nodded before leading me into the kitchen.

“I was just dropping a letter off at Melanie and Kevin’s,” I said as I took a seat, and he rifled through his cupboard, pulling out boxes of tea. “Thought it would be rude not to drop in and say hi.”

His expression warmed. “I’m glad you’re here.” Then one eyebrow lifted. “A letter?”

“I read that it’s a good way to appeal to sellers to accept your offer. You write them a letter detailing why you want their house.”

“Ah, yeah. I’ve heard of people doing that,” Rhys replied as he filled the kettle with water. “So, what did you write?”

He came and sat across from me while waiting for the kettle to boil, his eyes soft and interested. An itchy, vaguely emotional feeling tickled my chest. What was it about Rhys that always hit me that way? I wasn’t used to a man being genuinely interested in what I had to say.

“Well, I spoke a little about my life in America, my marriage ending and making a fresh start in Ireland. I tried to appeal to their kindness without going overboard.”

“I can talk to them if you’d like. We’ve always been on good terms.”

“Oh, really? Yes, um, well maybe you could drop a few hints without being too obvious? I don’t want them to feel annoyed or get the sense I’m desperate.”

Rhys smiled warmly. “I’ll be very casual. Don’t worry.”

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