“And?”
“It’s small, which is nice.”
“Exclusive,” he corrected.
Beckett rolled his eyes. “There’s probably room for twenty tables.”
“You’ll be extremely in demand.”
“Or annoyingly empty,” he said.
“I can fill you up.” Rhys licked his lips and smirked. “If you wanted me to do that again.”
“Oh, my God.” Beckett’s cheeks turned red and Rhys closed his eyes, inhaling a long and relaxing breath.
“You know,” he said, changing the subject with ease, “I am really enjoying myself.”
“You sound surprised.”
A waiter from the hotel made his way down the beach, depositing fresh drinks on the table between his and Beckett’s loungers. He left without a word, and wasn’t that the kind of service that Rhys would never get tired of?
“I know that I’ll enjoy anything I do as long as you’re with me.”
“That’s saccharine.”
Rhys groaned, grabbing his glass and sitting up straight so he could take a drink without pouring it all over his chest. “You’ve been spending too much time with Remington.”
“We’re friends,” Beckett protested, matching Rhys’s movements and taking his own glass in hand. The sun reflected off the gold band on Beckett’s hand and Rhys reached for him again, giving Beckett’s hand a tug.
“Marry me,” he whispered.
“I already said yes.”
“I’ll ask you everywhere,” Rhys said, sliding off his chair. His knees hit the sand and he raised Beckett’s hand to his mouth, dragging a kiss over the warm metal band. “Until you’ve told me yes in every country, on every continent.”
“Positively quixotic.”
Rhys huffed. “Your ready thesaurus of words to mock how fond I am of you makes me feel like this is something you and Remington discuss frequently.”
“He’s commented on more than one occasion how you’re different from when he met you,” Beckett said. He shifted his hand against Rhys’s palm and threaded their fingers back together.
“Has he now?”
“In a good way!”
“Well, he’s mistaken,” Rhys corrected. “I’m the same as I’ve always been.”
And it was true, for the most part. Rhys didn’t think he’d changed. He’d fallen in love, sure, but he was still the same man as before. He wanted the same thing, which was for the people who were important to him to be taken care of. In the past, that had been Sebastian. Now it extended to Beckett, and very possibly Remington, but only through his association with Sebastian. The choices Rhys had made were always intended to benefit others. In fact, being with Beckett was one of the first things he had ever done purely for himself.
“The sand must be burning your knees,” Beckett murmured.
“I hadn’t noticed.”
“Get back in your seat.”
“Answer my question,” he said.
“Much like last time, you didn’t ask.” Beckett laughed and poked the straw into his mouth, puckering around it and taking a slow and seductive suck.
