“Fuck on a rice cake, he’s huge,” he breathes.
“I’m noticing.”
The rest of his body goes as stiff as the thick steel rod against my ass, and then he rolls off me, but he flings an arm out. “Don’t move.”
I twist my head enough to look at the window, andoh my god.
He’s not kidding.
That moose—heishuge.
Huge and staring at us with a special kind of contempt.
Like he knows what Rhys is doing as he adjusts himself, and like the moose also knows that my clit is tingling and aching, and that if we didn’t have a chaperone, I’d be seriously considering pulling the man back onto the bed.
But also— “He’s majestic,” I whisper.
“Rare,” Rhys murmurs.
“Magnificent.”
Rhys shifts closer to me, still angling himself between me and the moose at the window.
And that’s when I notice his arm.
“You’re bleeding.”
He looks down, then back up at the moose, who snorts at us through the window, then saunters away. “Just a scrape.”
It’s fresh. I lean closer and touch his arm, twisting it to get a better look. “Did you cut it on the window?”
“Must’ve.”
“There’s a first aid kit in the bathroom. Stay here.”
“I can?—”
“You almost broke through a window to pull me to safety. Let me bandage your boo-boo, okay?”
His blue eyes finally lift to mine, and once again, I feel like he’s studying my soul.
Like he wants to know every thought I’ve ever had, every happy moment, every sad moment, and everything in between, so that he can line it up with his own life’s triumphs and tragedies and make sense of why we’re here, together, now.
I lick my lips.
I haven’t hired him yet.
He’s not off-limits yet.
So I could kiss him.
I could kiss him and run my fingers through his hair and explore his broad chest and see if his hard-on is as notable as first impressions would suggest.
Sure, he’s more or less blackmailing me, but I am definitely okay with kissing people who blackmail me.
It’s a benefit to knowing I’ll never fall in love.
His gaze flickers to my mouth, then back to my eyes, and fuck it.
