Page 121 of Quiet Longing

The kettle finished boiling, and he stood to go make the tea, returning a minute later with two cups of green tea with jasmine. I inhaled deeply, the herbal aroma soothing some of my nervous tension about the house. We sat across from one another, a small silence falling before I spoke.

“So, yesterday was … unexpected.”

His lips twitched, eyes dancing. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“Thanks for being so amazing about it all,” I said, fiddling with the handle on my teacup and shooting him a look that I hoped conveyed how much his openness to experiment meant to me. “There’s literally no other person on the planet I’d feel comfortable asking to, well, have this kind of arrangement with.”

“Don’t say that,” Rhys replied though there was a teasing lilt to his voice.

I blinked. “Why not?”

He shot me a dark look. “Because I like it far too much.”

Heat flooded me, a soft exhale falling past my lips as I busied myself taking a sip of tea then said, “Well, it’s the truth. I’ve always felt drawn to you, even back when we first met. It’s like … I don’t know, my aura likes your aura. Is that a weird thing to say?”

Rhys’ face settled into a fond smile. “Not at all. My aura likes your aura right back.”

I chuckled. “Hey, don’t make fun. I’m out of practice with all this. I can’t even tell if you’re flirting.”

“Safe to say, with you, I normally am,” he responded low, and my stomach fizzled.

I bit my lip, glancing across the table at him as I blurted, “If we’re really going to do this, I feel like there are some things you should know.”

“Last night, my face was buried in your pussy, Charli,” Rhys said gruffly, and his words had my libido taking flight. “There’s no ‘if’ about it.”

I swallowed thickly and wrangled with the urge to climb across the table, grab his collar, and plunge my tongue into his mouth. “Right, even so, you should know that when I say I’m out of practice, I mean it in every sense of the word.” I chanced a peek at him and saw his head tilt curiously. Inhaling for courage, I continued, “Jesse and I, we stopped sleeping together years ago. I guess the marriage was over long before I ever had the strength to walk away.”

A flicker of darkness passed over his features. “How long?”

I exhaled. “Three years, almost four. But you know, it was better that way. I had no interest in … doing that. Not with Jesse. Not with anyone. That part of me went into hibernation. It’s why I’m so grateful to you for letting me explore that side of myself again. I’m still kind of reawakening, I guess.”

“You set the pace, always,” Rhys replied, his expression sober, and my affection for him expanded exponentially.

“Thank you,” I said then shook my head at myself. “I feel like I keep thanking you lately, but you have no idea how special you are. There aren’t many men out there who’d be prepared to help me like this.”

Rhys scoffed a little. “I’m not special, Charli. You could have a line of randy bastards a mile long prepared to sleep with you.”

“Yes, but would they be prepared to let me set the pace like you do? No, I don’t think so. With you, I never feel pressured. I always know you’ll stop the moment I ask you to. That’s what makes you special, Rhys, so own it.”

He kept staring at me then, his expression serious, eyes hooded. My skin heated at the look in his eyes.

“It also helps that I find you incredibly sexy and handsome,” I confessed. His features flickered with a hint of shyness—like he wasn’t used to the compliment—before his expression grew hooded once more.

“Let’s talk about something else,” he said, adjusting himself in the seat, and that made me very curious. Had me calling him sexy and handsome turned him on?

“Why?” I asked, unable to resist.

“Because I need to stop thinking about how good I’m going to fuck you when you’re eventually ready for that, and I doubt you’ll enjoy me sitting across from you right now with a raging hard on.”

His response made me flush while it also surprised a chuckle out of me. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Rhys Doyle,” I said, and he groaned, so I relented. “Fine, fine, we’ll change the subject. How about you tell me what kind of tiles those are in your kitchen? I really like them. Also, I love the bed you have upstairs. The carved wood frame is so unique.”

Looking relieved, Rhys launched into a detailed description of the tiles, which came from a specialist shop nearby, and the bed, which was handmade by a carpenter over in Cornwall and had been delivered just last month. He continued talking, telling me all the ways in which he’d updated the space, and I was happy to sit there and listen. We talked until we ran out of tea, and I excused myself to use the bathroom. There was only one, and it was located upstairs. I hurried up and did my business, my eyes catching on Rhys’ open bedroom door when I emerged.

Unlike the last time I was in there, the bed was unmade, the blanket strewn haphazard across the wide mattress. It struck me as odd because Rhys didn’t seem the type to leave his bed unmade, not unless he was distracted. Had his mind been as preoccupied as mine had that morning, replaying those few minutes in the darkened pantry when he’d effortlessly wrought the most exquisite orgasm from me with his skilled mouth?

Not fully thinking it through, I stepped inside, taking in the space again. It was less tidy than before, a pair of jeans thrown over the bench at the foot of the bed, his keys and phone scattered across the side table. My eyes traced his possessions before catching on a small bundle of dark, silky fabric next to the keys.My panties. Heat rose in my cheeks as I stood frozen in place. The table was right next to the side of the bed Rhys slept on, obvious from the rumpled pillow and how the blanket appeared to have bunched around that side.

What was he …

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