Page 68 of Love In Translation

Why did everyone assume that her running in the stupid race was a certainty? Yes, she understood why they all thought sheshoulddo it, but it didn’t mean she was going to.

Rheo snorted. “There’s no way Competitive Carrie will stick at the back of the field to hang with me. I give her a hundred yards before she loses patience.”

“You’re being kind. I give her fifty,” Fletch replied, laying his mouth on her cheekbone. He held it there before speaking again. “I’m proud of you for doing this, Rhee. I know it’s not easy for you.”

Why was Fletch, and her family, only proud of her when she did the things they liked, activities they approved of? What if she decided, instead of this obstacle race, she wanted to learn calligraphy or how to build a robot? Would they be as proud of her then? Why did their approval come with strings?

She wanted to ask Fletch, but knew it wasn’t wise. She could enjoy his body, but she needed to keep her emotional distance. He was her lover, not her soft place to land. His recent actions made that crystal clear.

All she could do was enjoy him and the delicious night. Warm air flowed into her room through the open window, and the gorgeous scent of Fletch’s citrus shower gel and Paddy’s roses drifted up her nose. Fletch lay next to her, hard and warm and exceptionally masculine. It was a night for lovers, and she was determined to enjoy it.

Rheo lifted her hand, stroking her thumb over his sexy bottom lip. He sighed against her skin, and his eyes fluttered closed.

“I love the way you touch me,” Fletch murmured. “If all you did tonight was touch me like that, just on my lip, I’d be happy.”

No, he wouldn’t. Not really. Neither would she. She wanted more...

Rheo licked her bottom lip. She felt slightly buzzed, and even hotter than she’d been ten seconds before.

“I want to make love to you, Rhee,” Fletch told her, the tips of his fingers digging deeper into the skin of her ass. “I want to kiss every inch of you, make you come on my tongue. Then I want to make you come again when I’m buried balls deep inside you.”

Lust shot through her like a rocket through space.

Would he always have this power over her, the ability to make her wet and desperate with just a few words? With just a sentence or two, he’d propelled her into the carnal, all her thoughts about her feelings slipping away like the sleeping shorts he pushed down her hips.

Fletch pulled her vest up and over her head, threw it across the room, and Rheo lifted her mouth to find his tongue and slide hers against it. Needing more, her hands streaked over his chest, up and under his T-shirt—it needed to go, immediately—and she slung her thigh over the erection tenting his shorts. So hard, so deliciously hard.

Blood roared through her head as they kissed, desperation too. Rheo pulled her mouth off his, sucked in some air, and dived in for more. Their kiss turned fierce, then ferocious. His hand kneaded her breast, pinched her nipple, and he rolled it between his fingers. His hand dived between her legs, and he parted her folds, seeking her clit. When he hit her most sensitive spot, she lifted her hips off the bed, pushing into him. She knew if he slid even one finger into her, she would come. She teetered on the edge already and didn’t want to...

Not yet.

Shaking, she pulled his T-shirt up his chest, revealing his ridged stomach. Fletch used his core muscles to do another half sit-up, pulling the fabric over his head with a rough movement. His shorts followed and fell off the side of the bed to the floor. Rheo knew he could take her, slide into her, and they’d rock each other to an orgasm—hot, fast, intense.

And that was what she needed. She couldn’t handle slow and sweet tonight. She needed fast, hard, and quick, a physical reminder to mirror their intense, electric, lightning-fast connection.

Rheo straddled his hips and dragged her wet flesh, aching for him, across his dick until their breaths became moans and moans morphed into desperation. There was no need to wait, so Rheo pulled him back with her hand and sank onto him inch by gorgeous inch. She pushed her aching breasts into his chest and rested her lips on his.

“I need to come, Fletch, hard and fast,” she muttered against his mouth.

It was such a lie; she needed so much more. She needed him to love her, to be in her life, to be the missing piece to complete her puzzle. Sheneededhim. In every way that counted, and a million others she wasn’t aware of yet.

But this, having him inside her, rocking his hips, hitting that spot deep inside that caused her eyes to cross, was all she had.

She had tonight. She’d take it.

So Rheo clenched her internal muscles, slipped her tongue into his mouth, and took the one thing he could give her.

She took him.

After eating at the Italian place in town, Rheo and Fletch said goodnight to Ed and Gail in the driveway and walked to the back of the house, following Carrie and Seb into the kitchen. Rheo kicked off her wedges, accepted Carrie’s quick, unexpected hug, and said goodnight to Seb.

She watched Seb’s retreating back and bit down on the inside of her lip. He was a nice guy, and she wondered how Fletch had described their relationship to him. Was she a hookup or a friends-with-benefits deal?

Or was she someone he could come to love?

She was so tired of being an emotional yo-yo—up, down, rolled up, put away. Rinse. Repeat.

Last night she’d tried to treat Fletch as a casual lover, and for about five seconds, it worked. Their first round of sex was fast and furious, and burned the anger and resentment away. But instead of turning over to go to sleep or leaving her bed, he’d—damn him—pulled her onto his lap and cuddled her. His one big hand held her head to his chest, and the other stroked her naked body from shoulder to calf.

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