Page 81 of Rhys: and the girl who was always his

I nod. “This is the weirdest, most extravagant thing I’ve ever been part of. But yeah. I’m good.”

His mouth brushes against the curve of my neck, soft and slow. “You look unreal tonight.”

My cheeks flush. “You’re just saying that because I wore this dress for you.”

He pulls me tighter against him. “Exactly. And it’s working.”

We stand like that, just breathing, the rest of the world folding away. Here, high above the crowd, in the warm golden light and heady scent of The Castle, it feels like we’ve stepped into a different kind of story. One we never expected.

Eventually, I turn in his arms, resting my hands on his chest. “You want to get out of here?”

His grin is slow and deliberate. “Thought you’d never ask.”

We slip away into the shadows, fingers intertwined. The air cools slightly as we step through a corridor lined with flickering candles. Each step feels intentional and intimate. I sense his stare, lingering at my hip and the revealed skin between my shoulder blades.

The third floor is quieter and more intimate. Doors line the hallway, some cracked open, some closed entirely. There’s a sense of mystery here—thick and warm, humming beneath our skin.

Rhys stops in front of one of the doors. “It’s open.”

I raise an eyebrow. “How do you know?”

He smirks. “Because I reserved it.”

The room is lit with soft, amber lighting. A velvet chaise sits beneath a floor-to-ceiling mirror. There’s a single glass of whisky on a table, untouched, and a rose in a crystal vase.

He closes the door behind us and steps into my space, his hands skimming down my arms.

“You’re full of surprises tonight,” I tease.

“I like keeping you on your toes.”

His lips meet mine, slow and deep. His hands slide to my waist, guiding me gently towards the chaise. The kiss deepens—teasing, tasting, his tongue brushing mine with the kind of familiarity that still makes my knees weak.

He lowers me onto the velvet, trailing kisses from my lips to the hollow of my throat. My fingers tangle in his hair as his body presses against mine, every touch setting my skin alight.

It’s not rushed. It’s not frantic.

It’s us—unrushed, unguarded, completely consumed.

Afterward, we're all tangled up, snuggled together, barely hearing The Castle through the door.

Rhys traces idle shapes on my thigh, his lips brushing my temple.

“You still good?”

“Better than good,” I murmur. “I think I might be ruined.”

He chuckles. “Guess I’m doing something right.”

I curl into him, breathing in the scent of his skin, his cologne, the lingering perfume of roses and smoke.

This place isn’t us. But somehow, tonight was.

And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-SIX

RHYS

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