Page 35 of Fa-La La-La Land
Without breaking apart, he takes a few steps backward. When we reach shallower water, we both let go of the side. His hands go around my back, mine around his neck, my legs around his waist.
Still kissing, Rhys carries me to the shallow end.
“What are we doing?” I ask between kisses.
Not because I don’t understand what kissing is, but because I don’t understand how I got from tiny Paradise, Idaho, to Rhys James’s backyard pool, let alone how I ended up kissing him there.
“Underwater kiss,” he answers with a tiny tug of my lip. “You ready?”
I pull away long enough to look at him, take a deep breath,and nod. He smiles, and I unwind my legs from his waist in time to barely plant my feet on the bottom of the pool before he’s swept me off them again.
We go under with our lips pressed together. My hair has come loose and surrounds our faces in dark waves as Rhys holds me, my feet floating, every worry about sinking gone.
Chapter Eleven
Stella
We come up for air, and Rhys smiles at me. My scalp and cheeks burn, and I’m not sure if it’s from the sun, the kiss, or embarrassment that I just threw myself at Rhys James, my boss. Threw myself at him and very much enjoyed the way he caught me.
I push wet hair out of my face. “That underwater thing was harder than it looked in the movie.”
If I make a joke about what’s happened—act like it was all about my list and not about either of usactuallybeing attracted to each other—things can go back to normal. Rhys can be his every day dull, broody self, and I can count the Rhys in the pool as the rock star I’ve kissed.
“Dad always says nothing’s worth doing if it doesn’t take a bit of work.” Rhys dips down and blows bubbles on the surface of the water, casting his blue eyes up at me, trying to reel me back in. “That’s three checked off your list. Twenty-seven more to go. At this rate, you can knock them out by the end of the year.”
I laugh and back away from him toward the stairs. “At this rate we’ll never have anything to post on your accounts.”
I look back at him as he glides effortlessly through the water to the stairs. He rushes to climb out ahead of me, then reaches for my hand to help me out of the pool.
“And I only count two, not three,” I say to cool the pulsing heat between us. “Kiss the rock star and kiss underwater.” I hold up two fingers on my free hand.
Rhys turns his eyes on me with a half-lidded look so devastatingly sexy, I literally freeze. Then, to make matters worse, he steps so close I feel the heat coming off his body even though the only thing touching is our fingertips.
“You’re forgetting a kiss that stops the world,” he says in his Rhys James voice. The deep one he uses in all his best songs. The one that made me think I was in love with him the first time I heard it.
“Am I?”
Two tiny words, but I can barely say them without squeaking on theI.I blame the lack of air reaching my brain. I can’t breathe with Rhys staring at me like he is, beads of water dripping from his black hair down the sides of his face, caressing the tips of his jawbone before sliding down his neck to his chest.
“I’m willing to give it another go, if you like. Hate to leave anything undone.” He raises his eyebrows, sweetening his invitation.
I’m tempted to take him up on it, but I’m pretty sure the earthdidstop turning with that underwater kiss. My heart definitely stopped for a few seconds, along with every thought that wasn’t about getting more of Rhys.
That, however, is not information Rhys needs to hear. Not when I don’t know whether our kiss rocked his world too, or if itwas just another day at the office for a rock star. I hope not the first. A meaningless kiss is a lot less complicated.
But, the tips of our fingers stay linked as we walk to the patio, and I’m more confused by that than what just happened in the pool.Thatwas checking things off a list. I don’t know what this still-touching is. And I’m worried about how much I like it. Rhysisstill my client. Not to mention number one on my list:Don’t fall in love.
I’ve kissed guys without falling in love—the two aren’t mutually exclusive. But this is Rhys James. I spent years in “love” with him because loving a fantasy meant I wasn’t in danger of falling in love with a real person. Don’t fall in love has been—and will be until I’m thirty—my number one goal.
The problem is, I never actually thought I’d meet Rhys James in person, let alone work for him and live on his property. Obviously, I fantasized about kissing him—my DNA is all over poster-Rhys’s lips—but doing it in person? Still unbelievable.
Which is why I absolutely have to stick to my number one. In fact, I plan on revising it specifically to say,don’t fall in love, especially with Rhys James.
With a smile, I pull my hand from his. “We really should get some work done. Do you want to try the pool again? Without the smoothie?”
Rhys shakes his head, his gaze stuck on me. “I reckon we’ve got some momentum with your list. I can give my tattoo artist a ring, let her know we’re coming.”
I let out a nervous laugh. Rhys’s expression doesn’t change.
