Page 10 of Rhys: and the girl who was always his

I feel it all the way in my chest, sharp and twisting. My hands are already balled into fists as I cut through the crowd towards her, every step echoing with the certainty that I’m about to fuck things up all over again.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m standing right next to them, grabbing her wrist.

“Ally.” My voice is low and controlled, but I feel anything but.

Her head snaps towards me, surprise flickering in her eyes before irritation takes over.

“What the hell, Rhys?” I shoot a glance at Justin, the man who has the nerve to touch her like that. But he’s not my concern.

“We need to talk.” Her eyes blaze, and she jerks her arm back, but I don’t let go.

“Now you want to talk?” Justin shifts beside her, looking smugly amused.

“She’s busy, man.” I turn the full weight of my fury on him. “Walk away.” Justin pauses, glancing at Ally, waiting for her to tell me to fuck off.

But she doesn’t. Her lips press tight, and her gaze flits away, knowing we shouldn’t have this out in the middle of the bar.

Smart girl.

Justin scoffs and steps back with his hands raised. “Whatever.”

I don’t waste any time, hauling her with me towards the exit. She digs her heels in at first, resisting, but eventually she follows, her frustration sharp and audible in every breath.

The second we’re outside, she wrenches her arm free. “What the hell is your problem?” I rake a hand through my hair, pacing a few steps before turning back to face her.

“My problem?” My voice is raw, strained, and thick with feelings I can barely contain. “I could ask you the same damn thing, Ally.” She crosses her arms and lifts her chin defiantly, that fierce spirit I love so much blazing in her eyes.

“Oh, so now you suddenly care who I hook up with?” I take a step closer, feeling my pulse pounding in my ears. She told me not to stop trying, so that’s what I’m doing.

“You know I do.” I always have; it’s why I’m always pissed off when I find out about her casual hookups. Ally doesn’t date. She never has, and part of me knows it’s because I turned her down all those years ago. I hurt her, and her way of dealing with that was to never get attached to someone again.

She shakes her head, exhaling harshly, each word slicing into the air between us. “No, Rhys. You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to pull me aside like you own me and act like you have some kind of claim over me when all you’ve done for years is pretend I don’t exist.”

The words hit their target dead centre, each one a small explosion in my heart. I thought we made some progress, but I was clearly wrong.

I reach for her, pulling her close, my hands gripping her hips like I can’t bear to let go. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

She laughs, humourless and sharp. “Do I?”

The fight hums between us, electric and dangerous, but below it, something else simmers, something we can’t control. “Tell me you don’t want this,” I demand, my voice low, desperate. “Tell me to let go, and I will.”

Her lips part, and her breath quickens. But she doesn’t say a word.

I step closer, so close our foreheads almost touch. “Ally.” Still nothing.

Then, fuck it.

I close the distance.

The second our lips collide, something inside me snaps. It’s a rush, years of tension and longing and denial exploding into this single, desperate kiss.

She gasps against my mouth. Then she’s kissing me back with everything she has, her hands tangling in my hair, nails scraping against my scalp.

I groan, pulling her flush against me, deepening the kiss, drinking in the small, needy sound she makes when I nip at her bottom lip. God, I’ve wanted this for so fucking long.

Pressing her against the bricks of the building my hands roam, memorising the shape of her, the way she feels, solid and real against me. Her fingers clutch at my shirt, holding on like she needs this as badly as I do.

Her warmth, her taste, it consumes me, and all I can think is how much time we’ve lost. If it weren’t for that fucking arrangement, Ally and I could have been experiencing this for years.

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