Page 65 of Rhys: and the girl who was always his

Rhys takes a step closer, his voice quieter now but just as intense. “I deserveyou, Ally. I’ve always deserved you. And you sure as hell deserve me.”

My breath shudders, my heart aching. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Then let me show you.”

Tears spill down my cheeks. “I’m scared.” It’s true; I’ve never had a relationship. I’ve always been the girl who takes what she wants and then leaves the next morning. I find myself at a loss when it comes to being with him.

His expression softens, but his grip on my arms tightens. “Iknow. But you don’t have to do this alone.”

I let out a shaky breath. “I don’t want to keep running.”

His hands slide to my face, his thumbs brushing away my tears. “Then stop.”

The next breath I take is shaky, my walls crumbling around me. And then, before I can talk myself out of it, I throw myself into his arms.

Rhys catches me instantly, holding me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear again. His face buries into my neck, his breathing heavy, his hands gripping me so tightly it almost hurts.

But I don’t care.

Because for the first time in a week, I feel like I can finallybreatheagain.

Smalls clears his throat from the doorway. “I’m just gonna… give you guys a minute.”

Rhys doesn’t even lift his head. “Good call.”

Smalls snorts and disappears down the hall, leaving us alone, clinging to each other like we’ll never let go again.

And then Rhys moves.

His hands slide down my arms, gripping my wrists, pulling me flush against him. The heat between us ignites like a spark to petrol, the desperation bleeding into something else entirely. His lips crash against mine, fierce, unrelenting. A soft gasp escapes me, but he swallows it, his fingers tangling in my hair as if he’s afraid I’ll slip away again.

I clutch at his shoulders, my heart hammering as I melt into him. There’s nothing slow about this, nothing gentle—it’s all-consuming. His lips move with purpose, his body pressing me backward into the small hallway until my back hits the wall.

Rhys tears his mouth from mine, his forehead pressing against mine as we both catch our breath. His hands skim down my sides, lingering on my hips, his grip tightening like he needs to feel every inch of me.

“You’re mine,” he rasps, his voice hoarse, wrecked. “You’vealwaysbeen mine.”

My breath shudders. “Rhys?—”

But he doesn’t let me finish. His lips are back on mine, his fingers gripping my waist as he lifts me, carrying me towards the small bedroom at the end of the hall. I barely register the door closing behind us before we’re tangled together, falling onto the bed in a mess of limbs and whispered promises.

Every fear, every doubt, every lingering hesitation fades beneath the weight of him, the warmth of his skin, the way he worships me with his hands, his lips, his body.

This isn’t just about needing each other. It’s about proving something—about anchoring ourselves back to the one thing that hasalwaysbeen real.

Us.

And this time, I’m not letting go.

CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX

RHYS

The drive back to New Hope is quiet.

Ally sits in the passenger seat, staring out the window, her fingers twisting in her lap. She hasn’t said much since we left Smalls’s place, and I haven’t pushed her.

She needs time, and I can give her that. But every second that passes with her so distant makes my chest tighten.

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