Page 31 of Wild Side
I know Rhys says he means well, but I can’t help feeling like I’m being tested. And if I’m not up to his standards, I’ll have failed. Something I hate to do.
I already feel like I failed Erika.
I can’t fail this too.
After a morning spent picking roses for my signature tea blend at the bistro, Milo is napping when Rhys arrives.
He rolls up to the front door and darkens it with his width. From where I sit at the kitchen table flipping through an industry magazine, I feel his shadow snuff out the light.
“Door’s open,” I call, ignoring the urge to get up and greet him. The way my stomach flips with the eager anticipation of knowing he’s about to walk into my house is best left ignored. Shoved down into a dark corner where I hide all my other unpleasant feelings.
When Rhys steps in, I peek up. My eyes have the perfect straight shot down the hallway to see him looking downright murderous and wearing black from head to toe. Jeans, T-shirt, slicked-back hair.Probably his boxers too.
It’s the way he carries himself. There’s something… I don’t know, ominous about him? I blame the fact that I’ve been too busy to have sex for some time now for the way my core clenches. How fucked up do I have to be to get all horny over aman who is here to make my life miserable and looks at me like he wants to kill me?
“You gotta stop leaving your front door open,” he grumps, while using his toes to pull off each of his black leather sneakers.
“Why?” I flip through the magazine with a little extra flourish, doing my best to appear completely unaffected by him. He looks like himself, but all tidied up. Hair a bit shorter. Full beard leaning more toward sexy stubble than scruffy mountain man.
Him being so attractive is deeply annoying.
“The gun under your pillow isn’t enough.”
I laugh. “That was a joke. This is Canada, Rhys. I don’t own a gun. Neither does anyone I know.” Peeking in his direction provides proof that my empty threat of a gun under my pillow has pissed him off. My body hums as he starts toward me.
“It’s not safe.”
I roll my eyes with intentional petulance and flip another page. My tone comes out mocking when I ask, “What are you going to do? Punish me?”
His approach has him towering over me. I can feel his gaze, and the way the air shifts around his thickly corded body. “Not in the way you’re thinking.”
A tug in my pelvis betrays me, and I look up at him, meeting the challenge in his eyes. For a flash, I note how tired he looks, but I brush that aside. “And what way areyouthinking?” I push the magazine away and sit up tall in my chair, crossing my legs and looking up to give him my best innocent doe-eyed look.
His teeth strum once over his bottom lip as he glowers down at me. And for the first time, I can’t tell if the darkness that flashes in his irises is because I piss him off or because he does want to fuck me. All I know is he seems more focused on my mouth than on my eyes.
My head tilts as I consider him. Then I decide to push just alittlefurther. Because if nothing else, this situation between us is a power struggle, and I’m not afraid to take my power where I can find it.
If he thought he was squaring off against some timid little girl, he thought wrong.
“Does it involve bending me over this table?—”
“Tabitha,” he cuts me off, voice hoarse. But I don’t miss the way his eyes flit to the table, his fist clenching around the strap of his bag.
I blink innocently. “What?”
He shifts, hiking his duffel up over his shoulder and moving it to his front. Like it’s a shield between us. “You should be worried about an intruder.”
My lips press together as I nod my head. This man is out of touch with what it means to live in this small town. “Just think, if I get murdered, you’ll be free of me. You and Milo can skip off into the sunset without me holding you back.”
He shakes his head as he turns away and saunters toward the basement. And I do mean saunters. His hips sway in a slow and natural motion. His ass…
His.Ass.
I give my head a shake too and glance up at the ceiling, asking the sky for a little self-control here. And I remind myself that I do not like Rhys Dupris, no matter what my pussy thinks about him.
CHAPTER 13
TABITHA
