When I turn back around to Joel, he’s finally stepped into the light, and I catch sight of his face. There is bruising on the right side of his face and a gash on his left cheek. There’s a rim of dark red dried blood on his nostril and staining his dress shirt. I finally put two and two together—the state of Joel’s face versus Rhyland’s fists. Did Rhy hit him? How? When?
There are so many questions I need to ask, but before I can ask a single one of them, Joel speaks or more so seethes.
“I don’t want him anywhere near youormy kid.” The way he says “my kid”makes it sound like Gabby is some sort of possession or property. I’m over even trying to figure out why the hell he’s here. I’m done. All I care about is getting him the hell out of here before someone calls the cops.
“Well, you lost that right already. Neither of us is your concern, and you only have yourself to blame. Tell Adrienne I said fuck off.” I slam the door in his face before dramatically clicking the lock. As if that would help keep him out. For all I know, he might just stay standing there and ring the doorbell continuously. Thankfully, I can hear his dramatic exit of peeling wheels out of the driveway.
With one hand still clutching to the lock and the other palm pressed firmly against the door, my heart beats wildly in my chest and is so loud I can hear the drumming in my ears.
What the hell just happened? I’m still trying to wrap my brain around it.
The floor creaks under Rhyland’s slow footsteps. I don’t turn around. I can’t yet, while I try to get myself under control. The footsteps stop when he is right behind me. I can feel the heat coming off his body.
“Payton,” he rasps, and I’m unsure if he’s saying my name to settle me or himself.
“You punched him?” I ask as my chest rises and falls—there’s no chance I can steady my breathing. Not as I try to process that this man behind me punched my ex-husband. Why, though? And what the hell was Joel doing at Tilley’s?
I repeat my question when he remains quiet. His silence will not work for me anymore. I will continue to pester him with the same question until he responds.
“I didn’t mean to. It was just—” He pauses. “He showed up at Tilley’s. Ollie came into the kitchen heated over it, and when I learned he was there, I just lost it. Had you been there, it would’ve devastated you. I mean, who the fuck does he think he is? There was no way in hell I was going to let him hurt you or Gabby again.”
He continues going on a tangent as I turn around, but I only catch just about every other word because I’m still stuck on “There was no way in hell I was going to let him hurt you or Gabby again.”
“I’m sorry. How could he just abandon you and her? Whatever he wanted, he didn’t deserve you.”
I look up and see the emotion on his face. The rage has faded, and this time, it’s something more in his eyes—there’s still heat surrounding his eyes. It sets my blood ablaze.
“Rhy.” My voice is just above a whisper, and it causes him to stop. Before I know what I’m doing, I launch myself into his arms and press my lips to his. I’m sure if someone was watching,it would resemble that kiss between Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams at the MTV Movie Awards that I’m sure everyone wanted to experience once in their lifetime.
At first, he’s hesitant. Clearly, my reaction to this caught him off guard. The longer he doesn’t move, the more I fear I maybe read the room wrong. But then the most amazing thing happens, and he kisses me back.
Kissing Rhyland Coleis like coming home.I’ve dreamed about this moment my whole life, but nothing compares to the real thing.
His hand tangles in my hair at the back of my neck and holds my face to his possessively. His tongue sweeps across my bottom lip, seeking entrance against mine.
There is no longer any hesitation on either of our parts. No restraint, as if we had been kissing for years.
My legs tighten around Rhyland’s waist when I feel us move from the front door to the couch. He sits down, and I move to straddle his lap, refusing to unseal our lips. We continue to kiss, getting lost in each other. I whimper, literally fucking whimper, when he pulls back. He smirks before closing the distance again.
But this time, his lips don’t land on my lips. They first start at the corner of my mouth before moving down my jaw to my neck. When I feel his teeth nip my skin, I become putty in his hands. I try to steady myself with my hands on his shoulders and grind my pelvis against his.
He groans against my skin.
Is this real life?
“This is real, baby.”
Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.
My hands roam over the planes of his body.
I’m lost in the sensation of touch. The feeling of his hands on mine, our pelvises grinding against each other, my hands touching him. My fingers dance along his abdomen as I makemy way to the waistband of his sweats. There are only small swatches of material that separate us fully from each other. I need to feel him in my hands. What has come over me? I’ve never been like this with anyone. Not that I have as much experience as others, but Rhyland makes me lose control.
Just before my hand slips under the material, he freezes and grabs my palm, stopping me.
“Wait, wait,” he pants as we both try to catch our breath.
I knew this moment was too good to be true.
