That would make me a monster.
Rhys grabs me by the shoulders and turns me, forcing me to face him. Then he puts a finger under my chin to lift my head. “Who is the man I need to kill who made you feel worthless?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I breathe. “Hedoesn’t matter.”
The trace of his knuckle down my cheek sends a wonderful little flutter in the pit of my stomach. “What a travesty it would be if I were to spend my days anywhere and with anyone other than you.”
A whisper of a sigh leaves my lips, and breathless, I say, “For an antihero, you got a hellava way with words, Ravenstone. I don’t remember adding poet to your profile.”
“You didn’t.” Rhys leans forward, our lips nearly touching. “Sweetheart, that’s all me.” He takes my hand and brings it to his chest, pressing it over his heart so each hammering beat slams against my palm. “You lit the spark when you pieced me together, but I’m the fire”—he grabs my throat and tugs me to meet his mouth—“that’s going to burn us both.”
Chapter Ten
Ihad my first kiss at fifteen.
Adam and I gave it our teenage best. Still, it was awkward and wet and weird, and I swore I’d never enjoy kissing—ever.
And I didn’t for thirteen years. I tolerated it, sure. But enjoy it?
Meh.
Not until this very moment.
I get it now. What the hubbub is all about. Rhys tastes delicious. Like popcorn and chocolate chips because that’s what he was snacking on, buteverythingabout him is… Yummy. I want to devour him and demand seconds. His lips are plush, his tongue exploring every inch of my mouth, and I swear to God, the way he’s licking around in there has my toes curling inside my favorite fluffy white socks. I have one hand twisting his shirt to haul him closer, close enough for his heat to seep through our shirts and flow into me. The other I bury in his hair to hold his head where I want, need it, while I kiss him back.
Who is this stranger I’ve become, this wild woman moaning into Rhys’s mouth? This woman who yanks on his hair to pull a growl from him? I crawl onto Rhys’s lap to push him back against the couch. Straddle him. Cup his face as I kiss him back with the ease and confidence of someone I barely recognize.
But I like her—this brazen new me.
I smile against Rhys’s mouth when his hands land on my ass. He gives it a squeeze, followed by a playful smack. I yelp, then laugh, wiggling my hips over his swollen shaft straining in his sweatpants. I grind down harder, frisky as fuck, needing more contact.
Rhys wraps those muscular arms around me and keeps me there, taking control. Owning my mouth, my every whimper and gasp as he thrusts up, dry-pumping his cock across my aching pussy. Never in my adult life have I been this turned on. I rip my mouth from him and throw my head back on a desperate gasp, seeking air. But all I smell is him, that rich spice of his soap mixed with the warm scent of…him.
Intoxicating me.
He takes advantage of my exposed throat, nipping at the sensitive flesh, then licks away the sting. Sucks and kisses his way to my ear to whisper filthy promises of what he’s going to do to me. And I want it all.
Everything.
All of him.
But I hesitate when he goes to lift off my shirt, the old insecure me rushing right back. “Let’s get this off you.”
“No, wait.” I slap his hands away because there’s only one who has seen me naked, and he obviously found me…less than desirable.
Rhys Ravenstone is flawless from head to foot. He deserves perfection in return. Not a woman who doesn’t say no to a pint of ice cream. Jason’s sort of emotional abuse left a scar even though Rhys doesn’t seem to care that I’m carrying ten extra pounds—which isn’t much, I know, yet each one hangs off me like an albatross.
“I warned you once, Charlotte. Modesty has no place between us.” Rhys’s tone may be ominous, but I can’t stop the exhilaration that shoots through me as I lower my hands. Nothing heals a lifetime of rejection faster than that first moment of being accepted for who you are. “Good girl.”
Oh, my fucking God.
Is it possible to actually see feminism sprout wings and flow out of a woman’s body? Because I swear, I see mine flying off into the great unknown.
“Raise your arms.” At Rhys’s gruff command, I reach for the ceiling, and after he peels off my shirt, I’m straddling his lap in nothing but a white lace bra and grungy sweatpants…
…and he’s studying me like the answers to the universe are written across my boobs.
Rhys skates his warm palm between my breasts and up my throat. Runs his thumb along my bottom lip. He dips that finger inside my mouth when my jaw goes slack, tracing the pad along my tongue. The hunger in his eyes sends a rush of heat straight tothe juncture of my thighs, and when I roll my hips, his rumbling growl has me answering with a desperate moan.
