Page 20 of Surprisingly Us

“Yes.” I narrow my gaze at him. “Would you please be helpful?”

“What are you talking about? I’m helpful. I hung that banner.”

I ignore him and do a final check on what’s left to do.

“Okay, now let’s do the petals.”

From the bag of supplies, I find the pack of red rose petals and open it.

I lift Rhys’s hand from his side and dump a pile of petals into it.

“What am I supposed to do with these?” he asks, staring at the petals.

“Start at the door and scatter them in a path toward the bed.”

His brows shoot up. “Seriously?”

“Yes. Like this.”

Rhys watches as I scatter a trail of petals from the door toward the bed.

“Why do they need rose petals? Or any of this shit? Aren’t they just going to fuck?”

I’m aware of Rhys’s reputation, but nothing could prepare me for the way the word ‘fuck’ rolls off his tongue. It’s like a lick of heat to the back of my neck. It’s crude and completely unnecessary, but for some reason it’s also kind of hot.

“Language,” I warn. My parents had a strict no cursing policy growing up. Even now that I’m an adult, I still can’t imagine cursing in front of them.

“Come on, we’re adults now. No one is going to chastise you for an F-bomb.” He lifts his brows in challenge.

I open my mouth to say that simple four-letter word, but nothing comes out. I know I can say it, it just feels unnecessary.

“Whatever.” I motion for him to keep spreading petals.

“Stick with me, Princess, and I’ll have you saying all the four-letter words.”

“No, thank you.”

That’s what I say, but my brain has already enrolled in Rhys’s school of dirty words and is reciting today’s lesson.

Fuck.

Dick.

Cock.

Rhys.

I swallow thickly, trying to remember what his question was. Oh, yeah. The reason for all this stuff.

“It’s their wedding night, this is romantic and it makes it special.” I sigh. “Haven’t you ever done anything romantic for someone?”

He pauses, a thoughtful look on his face before his lips split into a grin. “I’ve given a lot of orgasms.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Orgasms are romantic. It means that you care about the other person finishing.”

All I can do is shake my head and try to not think about Rhys handing out orgasms. He probably uses the word ‘fuck’ a lot when he’s doing it. The baby hairs at the back of my neck dampen with sweat just thinking about it.

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