“Your modesty is misplaced,” he remarks, and I hear a definite note of amusement in his voice. Thankfully, though, he sounds like he’s walking away. I dare to open one eye and see him heading toward the stairs. God, his ass is spectacular. “We only have seven days, and I plan on using every part of me to make every part of you feel good until our time together is over.”
Oh, God…
I gape at him as he strolls up the stairs, falling back against the couch with a huff. My brain is screaming red flags. My body, however, is ready for a carnival because, holy shit, his promise woke up something dormant inside me. Actually, I think those parts of my anatomy were never awake. I actually need to press my thighs together to ease the pressure building between them and the empty ache skidding across my nerves tells me it’s going to be a long night.
Averylong andveryuncomfortable night, with me painfully aware of the man directly across the hall in the guest bed—secretly wishing I had the balls to climb under those covers with him.
Who the hell am I right now?
Someone who built a man and apparently wished him into existence, that’s who. I’d be a fool not to live each of these next days with him to their full advantage…
…starting tomorrow.
Because I talk a good game, but I’m a chickenshit at heart, and I’ve only had sex with one man, and I’m terrified and excited and…
…and I fall asleep with an anxious little flutter in my belly and a silly smile on my face because, for the first time in ages, I’m eager to find out what the morning will bring.
Chapter Eight
Day Two
The curious whispers start the second Rhys and I exit my car at the local Court of Food and Drink. Last night, we thankfully didn’t cause a mini circus when we raced through Target. But we went after peak hours, so the store wasn’t busy. Today is a whole different story. It’s morning, and the supermarket is bustling. The lot is packed, and after we grab a cart from the nearest corral, we mind our own business as we beeline toward the automatic sliding front doors. Unfortunately, we only get midway toward our destination—with Rhys subtly having me walk on the ‘inside’ rather thanthe ‘outside’ where the cars are slowly driving by—when the lot practically crashes to a stop.
And I do meancrash.
Paula Olsen, the local busybody, damn near collides the nose of her silver BMW into the rear end of Mr. Jenks’s red pickup the moment she spots Rhys. Fair. The man is a sight to see, bathed in sunlight, dressed head to foot in black, a gorgeous villain with a scowl on his handsome face as he takes in the tiny community of Harley Cove.
“I plan on using every part of me to make every part of you feel good until our time together is over.”
I need to stop thinking of the promise he made last night—and itwasa promise, no doubt about it. Every time I do, I need a cold shower and a change of panties.
The screech of tires and the expletives that follow have Rhys shoving me behind him, putting himself between me and danger. The thing is, thereisno danger. It was Paula who nearly collided with Mr. Jenks’s Dodge, and now he’s spewing the vilest words at the completely unflustered woman.
“Good Lord, Tod, I didn’t even hit you,” Paula yells from the driver’s window. “And with the language! Stick your head back inside your car and go home.”
“You’re a menace!”
“And you’re a mean old buzzard.”
With the crosswalk blocked, Rhys frowns at me in question. “Is this how everyone behaves here?”
“Not everyone, no, but enough do, unfortunately. People suck,” I say with a resignedshrug.
Thankfully, the bullshit doesn’t last long, and once it’s over, Rhys snatches my hand and yanks me forward. He pushes the cart with one hand, keeping mine in his other as he strides forward, oblivious to the open stares as we enter the store. I don’t hate how natural it is to be with this man, especially since there’s an expiration date to our time together. But hey, it is what it is, and I stroll beside him with an arrogant smile on my face.
But the grin flies right off my face with the blast of frigid air from the cooling unit. I’m shocked it’s not snowing in here. Rhys notices I’m shivering in the pretty yellow sundress. Of course, I paired it with my trusty Doc Martens. I wear these bad boys everywhere, and as we traipse through the bakery section, I rub my arms to generate extra warmth.
“It’s not that cold, Charlotte.”
I will nevernotget weird and melty over how Rhys rumbles my name. “You’re, like, what, ten feet tall and protected by a thick layer of muscle? Of course you’re not cold.” I march ahead a few feet to the bagels, muttering, “I don’t know why stores set their thermostats to Antarctic during summer. It makes shopping miserable.”
I grab a few bagels and half a dozen donuts from the case. When I spin around to carry them back to the cart…Jesus Christ. I turned my back on him for a second. How in the world did I lose a whole grown-ass man?
Seriously? I look right and left. Lift onto my tiptoes as if an extra inch or two gives me a better vantage point. Yeah, no, that doesn’t work. Clutching my baked goods, I search the area for Rhys. I follow the murmurs, the mini commotion coming fromthe female cashiers. That’s how I know exactly where Rhys is before I see him.
Scowling, I practically run over to where he is by a novelty rack of I Love Harley Cove shirts. “What are you doing?” I hiss, keeping my voice low. “You shouldn’t wander off until you know?—”
“What size are you?” he asks without looking away from the shirts he’s flipping through.
