Chapter Twelve
Day Three
Sorry, no.
Morning sex is super romantic in movies and books, but in reality? Absolutely not. There’s morning breath, and after Rhys and I crashed without showering last night… Let’s just say I’m crusty. Yeah, no. Morning sex is out of the question without first making friends with toothpaste and soap. If this makes me a killjoy, oh well. But Rhys takes my rejection in stride—shockingly—and, with a playful slap on my ass, sends me on my way to the bathroom while he lingers in bed.
Okay, butthis man is criminally hot as hell wrapped in my sheets, with his sleepy gaze following me as I hurry across the room to the en suite bathroom. And yay me for not wanting the floor to open and swallow me whole as I do the naked jog of shame with flaky sperm stuck to my thighs.
I brush my teeth, marveling at the well-pleased stranger staring back at me in the mirror. The sex-knot tangled in the back of my curly hair will be a bitch to brush out, but the memory of how I got it has me smiling, looking like a rabid dog with a mouthful of toothpaste. I trace a finger over the raw bite mark on my neck, a tingle in my belly over the thrill at how I enjoyed that pain while Rhys gave me so much pleasure.
Huh.
I would have never imagined I’d bethatwoman. I was someone resigned to a lifetime of boring vanilla sex. But look at me now. See what happens with a dash of spice?
While washing off last night’s…sextivities…my mind wanders to what new adventures await over the next four days. Four days. Suddenly, that doesn’t seem like such a long time. In fact, it’s the blink of an eye, and…
…the toilet flushes, and a second later, I’m scalded when the water turns too hot. I leap out of the stream with a yelp. Pulling back the white shower curtain, I see Rhys facing the shower while brushing his teeth.
“Shower time is sacred,” I announce.
The arrogant man simply shrugs. “You were taking too long,” he says around the toothbrush.
“Was not.” I disappear back behind the curtain to finish washing.
“Our time together is finite. Every moment is precious.” He jerks open the curtain. “Now move so I can get in there with you.”
Well, if he insists…
I step aside to give him room, but he’s huge and takes up most of the space. Although I’ve already washed, Rhys re-scrubs me from hair to feet, taking his sweet-ass time, and my gawd, I’ve never been turned on by something as mundane as a shower. But his hands are big and soothing as they massage my scalp and slide over my body. He even gets on his knees when he cleans between my legs, beingpainstakinglythere.
He stands and says, “Turn around, Charlotte.”
At his gruff command, I do as he says, spinning and placing my hands on the white tile wall for support because my legs are jelly and they’re having difficulty supporting my weight. He lifts my heavy hair and places it over my shoulder. Gets his hands good and soapy before stroking my back. He slides his palms along my spine. Down the cleft of my ass. Kneads. Drives me absolutely wild with his demanding caress.
Unable to take much more, I turn to face him, giving him the same torment he gave me. I soap my hands and trail them over each peak and valley of his incredible body. Across the wide breadth of his shoulders. Over his shredded torso. Relish the way his abs contract when I slide my palms over them. Stroke his massive length from root to tip, his hiss the finest music echoing around us, especially when I give the barbell a gentle tug.
“Fuuuck, Charlotte,” he groans.
“You’re exquisite,” I whisper, teasing his shaft, loving the tortured expression contorting his gorgeous face. I rise on mytiptoes and kiss his scar. Kiss his chin. His lips. “Even if we had four hundred days, it wouldn’t be enough.”
What the hell?
Where’d that come from?
I’m the woman who wanted a good time, not a long time.
Rhys wraps his arms around me, hugging me so tightly the frantic slam of his heart beats against me. He holds me like this for only a moment, one quick squeeze before spinning to face the wall. “Brace yourself.”
That’s the only warning I get.
Rhys drives into me hard and fast, my gasp morphing into a cry as he rocks his hips against mine. This isn’t like last night. This isn’t sweet or tender. No, this is a quick and furious fuck, and I love it, every hot second as he pumps his pierced cock into me.
I reach around to grip his thigh to press him harder into me. Pushing back to meet each of his brutal thrusts. His groans, the way he rasps my name, and the hot and hard length of him push me to the peak he had me at yesterday. “Come with me,” I breathe, slapping my palm against the tile. “Oh, God, Rhys, come with me.”
“Tell me when you’re there,” he growls.
And I’m close. So fucking close. Almost there. The barbell tickles deep inside me with every drag of his cock, and when he pinches my nipple—hard—I arch my back, crying out at the intoxicating mix of pleasure and pain.
