Page 46 of Not Made to Last

I had learned all the above through many online interviews and articles I’d sifted through, but hearing it from Rhys’s perspective is so much better.

“So, Pino’s is how they gained their success?” I ask.

Rhys pulls up to the restaurant, bypassing the valet and opting to park at the rear. “I like that,” he says, putting the car in park.

“Like what?”

“That you usedsuccessinstead of wealth.”

“Wealth is subjective.” So is success, if I’m being honest, but, unlike my mother, I’ve never really looked at financial wealth as something to strive for, or in her case, something to marry into.

“Hey,” Rhys says, and as soon as I’ve turned to him, he’s kissing me. Taking my bottom lip between his, his hand finds my neck, willing me closer while his tongue coaxes my mouth open.

The first stroke of his tongue against mine has me gasping. Heat and desire flow through my bloodline, simmer below the surface, until it pools at my core, and I…

I push him away. “You should get that food,” I whisper.

He nods, eyes unfocused as he reaches between us and to the back seat. He pulls out a cap and dumps it on my head, tugging the brim low on my brow like I’ve done with him. “Just so we’re clear,” he starts, kissing me once. “I hate hiding you.”

Moments later, I have a giant pile of take-out containers on my lap, and it smells so good I’m tempted to open each one and have my own little grazing session. “Where do you want to go?”

Honestly, I hadn’t thought this far ahead.

He continues, “We can go back to your house, or we can go to the rooftop, or…”

“Or?” I ask, shoving my entire face in the paper bag just to sniff the food some more.

Rhys chuckles at my antics, but he has no clue what a treat this is for me. At home, I do the laundry, and Dom does the dishes and the trash. We both tidy and take turns with cooking dinners. I do four days; he does three, and it’s only less for himbecause of his insane training schedule. Eating out for us is the diner once a month and pizza whenever Dom is too drained to cook.

He waits for me to sit upright before saying, “Or we could go back to my house, eat by the pool, and go for a swim after.”

“I didn’t bring anything to swim in.”

Rhys trails his eyes down my entire length, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. “You have underwear and a bra. It’s practically the same thing…”

“Yes, but then I won’t have anything to wear after that.”

His smirk is the smirkiest I’ve ever seen. “What a shame…”

Ishouldsay no. I should draw a line.Yeah, right.The only line I could draw right now would be in the sand, and the moment Rhys so much as breathes in my direction, it would blow away. But the sand would still be there, and I’d draw another line, somewhere else, somewhere new, and the same thing would happen again and again, because I can’t control myself or my feelings when it comes to Rhys.

What harm could it do to justseehis house? It’s not as if I haven’t wondered about it in the past. There’s only one problem. “I bet your house has a ton of cameras, huh?”

“Yeah,” he says, putting the car in drive. “But I’m the only one who has access to them.”

“What about your parents?” I ask.

Rhys scoffs. “If you knew the shit that went on at that house…” he trails off, which is fine, because I don’t need the details. I have to bite back a smile when he squirms in his seat, his discomfort showing. Has he forgotten that I know about the giant three-foot dildo he super-glued to his school’s door? Because if that shit’s happening in public, I can only imagine what goes on in private. “I blocked my parents from the cameras.” He taps the steering wheel twice, before facing me. “You better decide, Cheeks, because the food’s getting cold.”

21

Olivia

Rhys’s house is beautiful. And ridiculous. Especially for one person. Not that I’m judging (maybe a little).

It’s the type of house you see on the cover of architecture magazines or the ones you see in movies, surrounded by snow, somewhere in the Swiss Alps.

Only we’re not in the Swiss Alps, or anywhere near snow, and those houses usually hold entire families and their staff. Rhys is just one singular guy. A grain of sand, if you will.

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