Page 122 of Quiet Longing

Why had he left them there?

For a second, my mind conjured an image of Rhys, his large, muscled body naked beneath the blanket, hand fisting his hard cock as he held my panties to his face and breathed in. It was such an erotic vision that I found my breaths coming faster as I continued to stand there. I thought back on yesterday in Rhys’ office and again in the pantry at my aunt and uncle’s house. Rhys had made it all about me, never once asking me to reciprocate. But standing in his bedroom and fantasising about him alone in his bed had my belly swirling with desire. I wanted to give back the pleasure he’d given me.

The creak of a floor board alerted me that I was no longer alone.

“Charli?” My name was a heated question on his lips.

I turned like I’d been caught doing something I shouldn’t. Well, technically, I had since I’d entered his room withoutinvitation. “You kept them,” I whispered, and it was Rhys’ turn to look guilty.

His eyes flashed to the bundle of fabric on his side table before returning to mine. He ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to. I only realised they were still in my pocket when I got home last night.”

Feeling emboldened, I stepped closer and pressed my hand to his chest. “It’s okay. I don’t …” My eyes flickered to his. “I like it.”

His gaze heated, his hand closing over mine and holding it firmer to his chest. Rhys opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it.

“Go lay down on the bed,” I breathed, and his eyes flared briefly.

“Charli, wh—”

“Please. Before I lose my nerve. I just want to try something.”

His expression was conflicted for a moment before, finally, he released a gruff breath then let go of my hand and stepped toward the bed. He lowered himself to the mattress, lying flat on his back, head on the pillow. His eyes found mine as he asked, “What next?”

My heart beat a mile a minute as I slipped off my shoes and pulled my sweater over my head. Standing in only a thin tank top and jeans, I traced the movement of his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he watched me. “Just stay there,” I said, and a pleasurable shimmer passed through me. I felt powerful, in control, and it was a wonderful sensation. Rhys was allowing me to lead, and I savoured every second.

“You’re okay with this?” I asked quietly as I moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

“I’m not entirely sure what you have planned,” he replied, his voice thick. “But yeah, you could say I’m okay with it.”

Experimentally, I rose up onto my knees. Rhys watched me the entire time as I climbed astride his lap. “Yeah,veryokay with it,” he went on gruffly.

Bravely, I brought my hands to his shoulders, gently stroking in towards his neck before lowering to his chest. “Careful,” Rhys murmured, eyes hooded, and a bolt of arousal shot through me at how he gazed at me.

“I like touching you,” I whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Fuck, Charli. I might get hard, but don’t worry about it. Just keep going, okay?”

I nodded, a thrill of satisfaction filling me to know that just sitting astride him was a turn on. Bending down, I brought my mouth to his ear. “I also like it when you get hard.”

Rhys’ entire body shuddered with a groan, and I smiled as I sucked his earlobe into my mouth then began planting kisses along his jaw and neck. All the while, he remained lying there, hands by his sides, not making a single move to touch me.

I rose back up, fascinated as I trailed my palms along his broad, flat chest then all the way down his arms. I smoothed my fingers over his fingers, lifting his hand and testing its weight, examining each knuckle. They were good hands, protective hands. The kind of hands that would keep you warm on a cold, lonely night.

When I glanced at Rhys, he wore a faint smirk as he watched me examine him. A small trickle of self-consciousness tried to push through but I ignored it. I brought Rhys’ hand to my neck, flattening his palm to my skin.Hmm, warm. His breathing hitched, and I held his gaze, moving his palm lower until he was cupping my breast. I inhaled sharply, a fresh wave of arousal rising as his large palm covered me. I bent and captured his lips in a gentle kiss. Rhys kissed me back right away, but he didn’tpush, didn’t try to take the lead. He only responded to what I did, never making the first move.

My breathing grew laboured as the kiss deepened, and I found myself reaching for the hem of his T-shirt, lifting it up over his head. Rhys obliged, sitting up then lying back down, the bare expanse of his upper body and torso exposed to me. I tentatively ran my hands over the hard planes of his pecs then down over his abs. Touching him brought on a feeling of déjà vu. I’d been here before with him in a different timeline, before we’d parted and went on separate journeys.

Maybe we never should’ve parted because being alone with him had my body humming with rightness. It felt like we were both exactly where we were meant to be.

Desire coiled tight within me as I bent to press my mouth to his upper pectoral. Rhys exhaled but didn’t speak, and I was glad for his silence. If he spoke, I might lose my nerve as I traced my lips down his torso. The scars he’d had as a teenager were still there, just on a harder, larger, more mature body. I wondered what he’d think about the scars I was marked with.

I had several, each attached to an awful experience my mind had become adept at repressing.

There was a jagged, silvery line that ran down the centre of my left knee from when Jesse pushed me down the stairs of the second floor of the penthouse. He’d come home from work pissed after losing a case. I’d said something along the lines of “You can’t expect to win them all,” and a flip switched. He dragged me by the hair, spouting foul words in my face before roughly shoving me down the steps.

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