Page 9 of South of The Skyway

“Rhyett?” she breathed against my lips.

“Huh?”

“Your place or mine?”

FIVE

BREXLEY

Rhyett’s chuckle was like Christmas freaking morning, his breath hot against my lips as he cradled my face in his calloused palms. This was so not what I expected when Noel dragged me out tonight. But who the hell was I to look a gift horse in the mouth? The impossible was suddenly areality. The most gorgeous guy to ever grace The Three Leaf with his presence had only just pulled his tongue from my mouth because, like an idiot, I moved to talk. He grazed his lips over mine in a heady caress, our breath one enormous cloud of lust between us. Fuck, even his laugh was sexy.

“I’d like to avoid being bludgeoned.”

“Chicken.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Too much left to do, Ace.”

Ace. Why the fuck did that moniker make me want to puke less than the others I’ve had thrown at me over the years?Sweetheart, princess, baby—yuck. Maybe it was the fact that his cock was rock hard where it pressed against my belly; that detail alone was intensely intimate. Perhaps it was some dumb subconscious part of me that was painfully aware I had never, ever, under any circumstance, thought about hooking up with some hot mountain of muscle I didn’t know from Adam in the back of a pub. However, as my hand slid down to cup his erection and satisfaction rumbled in his chest, I realized the number of fucks I had left to give was precisely zero.

I was sick of trying so hard, worrying so much, clinging to my life like I had an inkling of say in anything in the world. Rhyett was cute, fun to play with, and took zero offense to my foul mouth. And—let’s be real—he was sexy as fuck.

We all know where this is ending up.Noel’s words rang in my mind as he brought his lips back down, more urgent, more demanding. God, my entire life had been a slow-burn. But, like, the kind where I was the side character. The smart best friend that never sat at center stage. And maybe it was the hormones, or maybe it was the margarita-martini-Guinness combo currently assaulting my bloodstream. But for one night, I just wanted to be the badass main character that saw what she wanted and freaking took it. So, I sucked down a breath, peeling away from his perfect, hot lips.

“You wanna start with me?”

“Are you kidding?”

Fear spiked through me for a beat, worried he was insulted, but as his mouth came down, hands roaming freely, leaving an unbearable fervor in their wake, my excitement and arousal intensified.

“Fuck, yes.”

I settled my hands on his solid chest as the words buried into my belly, wanting desperately to peel the fabric from between us, and gave him a shove towards the bathroom. He didn’t budge, instead looking around, making sure the coast was clear before snatching my wrists between his fingers and plowing through the swinging door backwards. The moment it closed behind us, he moved for me, hands gripping my ass and hoisting me into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist.

“Well, hello, sailor.” His responding chuckle sounded so familiar that I narrowed my eyes, demanding, “What?”

“I’m a commercial fisherman.”

I blinked back at him, wanting to ask questions, but acutely aware of the ache now throbbing between us. “Tell me about it later?”

“Deal,” he breathed, backing me into the wall as his mouth descended, stealing my air and forcing my eyes closed. God, the taste of him was incredible. Below the beer, there was spice and something salty. He slid his long fingers around to cup my inner thighs, inching towards where I suddenly needed him more desperately than oxygen. Fuck, Noel was right. I had missed this, had needed it desperately. The feel of his calloused skin against mine, the way he ground his body into me, pinning me against the brick wall.

My eyes snapped open, and I glanced around the abandoned room, wrinkling my nose. He sensed it, the sudden apprehension, peeling apart to pepper my neck with kisses that made my resolve teeter like a cheap bowling pin.

“I can stop,” he breathed against my skin, sending tingles firing down my neck and arm.

“Don’t you dare,” I hissed, tightening my legs around his waist. Rhyett shifted into me, pressing us impossibly closer together. His hot palm cupped my sex, pressing against the apex with deliberate and delicious intent as he found the wet spot in the lace, a groan forming in his chest. My damn brain…

“It’s just…”

“Just what, Brexley? Talk to me, pretty girl.”

“Wash your hands.”

“What?” He spluttered, leaning away from me, mirth written across his face.

“I’d prefer not to regret this moment because my vagina is an inferno in a day or two. Wash your hands, Rhyett.”

“You are a particular kind of keeper.” He snickered but brought his mouth back to mine, hands slipping away from my pussy and chuckling when I whimpered. Twisting towards the sinks, he growled, “Make up your mind, Ace.”

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