Page 56 of South of The Skyway

Careful what you wish for, Mr. Rhodes.

TWENTY-FOUR

RHYETT

Just lunchturned into a second cup of tea and, eventually, a coffee sitting beside Brex on her couch. She was trying to convert me; I was pretty sure.

Noel was her equivalent to my Broderick. Her hell or high water, right-hand woman. And seeing her hurt—however temporary—was a personal affront for my little badass. When she’d finally exhausted her anxiety, shoulders relaxing as she leaned into the couch, I smiled, stroking my thumb over the place it rested on her thigh.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been talking forever. This probably isn’t what you expected when you answered my call this morning.”

“No expectations,” I reassured. “Was just happy to hear from you. More so when I learned of the circumstances.”

“More so?” she questioned, looking rightfully confused.

“That sounded different in my head. I just meant…that it meant a lot that you’d call me when you needed someone. That’s all.”

She bit that perfectly pink lower lip and before I could stop myself, I lifted a hand to free it. Her soft, plump skin and warm hitch of her breath against my fingers sent all my blood south, and I swore internally. Grazing along her cheekbone to cup the side of her face did nothing to alleviate the urgent ache wrapping around the base of my spine.

Eyes hooded with desire, she breathed my name like a plea, “Rhyett.”

“Should I go?”

Something like panic flashed in her eyes, to my immense satisfaction. My palms were buzzing with the need to touch everything. To thread through that long blonde hair and wrap it around a fist. My cock gave a little jerk, the image intensifying the blood flow as I imagined those pouty pink lips wrapped around me. Self-control was a miraculous thing.

“Should I go?” I repeated, rubbing my thumb up and across her gentle cheekbone. My body screamed at the concept, aching to taste, touch, savor. She shook her head.

“Brexley, use your words, pretty girl.”

“Stay,” she whispered breathlessly. Her husky voice, heady with the desire sparking through my bloodstream, was enough to snap my restraints. It took all of two seconds to wrap my hands around her and pull her onto my lap. Brexley straddled me, sinking down over my crotch and gasping as she found me hard against her entrance. When her gaze found mine, it was hungry, urgent as she rocked over my cock, driving me crazy with that little shift of her hips. Her chin dropped, loose strands of long blonde hair falling into her face as her eyes slid closed, and I nearly lost it. Brexley was my own personal deity, and I wasn’t sure what I’d done to earn this side of her, but it lit my chest on fire.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” I said, sliding my palms up, one halting to caress the side of her breast, the other wrapping around the back of her neck and pulling her to me. Her lips still tasted like basil and I smiled against them. Grinding my hips up against her, I ran my tongue between them, satisfaction pouring through me as she opened. There was nothing quite like that silent invitation. But it was her breathy little moan that fucking did me in. This woman could have whatever she wanted, but I needed a damn answer.

In an instant, I had her rotated onto the couch, taking in her trendy little getup. A black skirt that was cut way too short for her to be prancing around the city without me. Except in the moment…

I slipped my fingers up her inner thigh, relishing in the silky soft caress of her skin against my calloused palm. When I found her panties damp, I groaned, bowing my head to her shoulder as I began to rub against the sensitive nerves.

“Such a good girl,” I whispered as she writhed against the touch, egging me on, pushing for more. Right as her thighs went taut, I slowed my movements and eased the pressure.

“Rhyett,” she pleaded, and I smiled at the sound of my name on her lips. “Rhyett,” she mewled again, arching into me as she begged for more.

“So close?” Her teeth caught that bottom lip as she nodded frantically, face pained, chest heaving. I smiled, leaning down to nip at her. “I need you to answer my question, Ace. I need you to tell me what this is, and then I’m going to make you come.”

“Not. Fair.”

“I never claimed I wouldn’t play dirty. Tell me what you want, Brexley.”

“You.”

“Good start. But am I making you breakfast or leaving when this is done?”

“You—” She sucked down a breath as I applied a feather-light pressure through the damp fabric. Her thighs shook, and I smiled. “Not fair. I need you.”

“Edging has its benefits. Do you trust me?”

Her baby blues went wide and I knew she remembered her question from the groves. She nodded.

“So, answer me, Brexley. I just want to know. What does this mean?”

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