And for a split second, I imagine Fallon’s wild laugh tangled in the music
Then the moment’s gone, and I keep walking.
Chapter 31
Fallon
Basil sits in his ceramic pot beside my yoga mat, his glossy leaves fanning like tiny green hands reaching toward me. I slowly stretch into the cobra pose, several vertebrae clicking, my breath spilling out of me.
The scent of last night’s storm still charges the air, rain droplets clinging to every window, dragging me back to those precious hours I don’t think I’ll ever forget. I keep replaying the moment Rhys looked at me naked. How he gave me permission to touch him. How I felt powerful with my hand wrapped around his manly hardness. Because the choice was mine.
And most of all,safe.
I lower my chest, forehead pressed to the mat, and exhale through the knot in my ribs.
Basil’s leaves tremble in the draft from the heater,‘Remember how Kosta hurt you?’
“Unfortunately, yes,” I whisper to him. “But I think I’m ready to try again.”
Things are moving in that direction a lot faster than I expected.
‘Rhys would make it good for you,’Ivy says, voice smooth and knowing.
Basil snorts.‘He’s an assassin, Vines.’
‘He’s been incredibly gentle with her,’she argues with Basil.
My arms shake as I hold plank, breath steady to maintain control. Ivy is right. Rhys has been careful with me. My slutty mind keeps staging vivid daydreams. Rhys peeling away my clothes gradually. His mouth, hot and hungry, everywhere. My thighs parting for him like they were madeto only open for him.
Heat floods my face, and I have to take a break from the rush.
“Is this normal?” I ask the committee. “He is hot as sin. Literally sinful.”
‘Because he kills people,’Basil likes to keep reminding me.
“I can lean into his dangerous side.” A darker pulse flickers through me. “I want him to tie me up and make me forget my name.”
Basil looks judgy in the morning light.
“Okay!” My voice cracks. “Let me finish a few more vinyasas.”
Fifteen grueling minutes later, when the fantasies have spun out of control, I spring to my feet and scurry to the bathroom. I splash cold water on my cheeks until they stop glowing like Rudolph’s nose in a snowstorm. I meet my own wide eyes in the mirror. My lips are flushed. I look like I’ve been kissed.
No, this is beyond sexy and passionate kissing. My brain starts its analytical spiral of the human physiological response to arousal when a knock on the door makes me jump. I skip across the living room area, heart stuttering, and pull it open.
Rhys stands there, a dark force against the ambient corridor lighting. His gaze drops to my skimpy yoga clothes. Shorts, thin tank top, no bra.
“Hi,” I squeak.
“Hi.” Jaw flexed, he responds with a control I can feel.
“Come in.” I step aside.
He treks past me, big and quiet. I swear the air shifts around him.
“How’re you feeling?” he asks.
“Great.” I beam at him. “No sneezing. The warm shower last night helped.”
