Rhys Page 3

  I take a sip from my second can of wine. I’m totally relaxed and not a bit dizzy, but I’ll stop after two. I’m a lightweight. I glance down at my tiles, then arrange a few on the board.

  Rhys blinks, then snorts. “Well. That canned wine’s kicking in, isn’t it?”

  I grin over the rim of my glass. “Whatever do you mean, Officer?”

  He points to the board. “‘Boob.’”

  I shrug impishly. “Also an insult meaning dim-witted or idiotic. You have a dirty mind.”

  He tilts his head. He looks so sexy, sprawled out on his side, leaning on one arm. “There’s no denying that. But I’m the only one being honest here.”

  “Oh, I’m not being dishonest,” I reply. “I’m just merely letting you know more than one definition for that word exists. Not just these.” Before I’m fully aware I’m doing it, I cup my own breasts.

  That smoldering look comes back into Rhys’s gaze again. “All right, then, Ms. Romance Writer. You wanna play? Let’s play.”

  He shuffles some tiles around, then quickly arranges them on the board. I look down and nearly spit a gulp of wine out. He’s spelled out “twat.”

  I squeal out a noise I think is a giggle. It’s a sound I’ve never made before, which makes me laugh even harder. He joins in, shrugging.

  “All the letters I had. Your turn.”

  Screw the rules of the game. We’ve just made a new one. I grab a handful of tiles and spread them out to see what I’m working with. I place “balls” on the board.

  “Weak,” he accuses me, before tossing down “dick.”

  “Not bad,” I acknowledge.

  We go back and forth, creating filthier and filthier words. I become aware the atmosphere between us has changed a little. It started out lighthearted and funny, but now the air feels…humid between us.

  Every slang for every sexual body part is on the board. Other words like “fuck,” “hump,” and “ride” are represented too.

  I set down the letters for “hot” and glance over at him. “Because you are.” Oh, shit, Vi. What did you just say?

  Goddamn those canned wines.

  His eyes glimmer with new interest, but he stays motionless. “Is that right?” Before I can reply, he lays down “sexy” and meets my gaze directly. “Because you are.”

  And he hasn’t had any white wines at all.

  I lower my gaze and chew my bottom lip, pretending I need to find a new word. The only letters I have that make sense can make two words, and two words only. “Tit” is one.

  “Love” is the other.

  My fingers hesitate over the tiles.

  Before I can make a decision that will potentially embarrass me, Rhys reaches over and slowly pulls off my glasses.

  I stare at him in surprise.

  “Just wanted to really see your eyes,” he says softly. “And they’re beautiful.” He gives me a smile that makes weird, pleasant things happen low in my belly, then hands them back. “Wouldn’t want you to be blind.”

  I fold them up and set them aside. “Actually, they’re blue-light blockers. I can see. Sometimes I forget I have them on. I stare at a computer screen so long every day, I wear them all the time.”

  “They look cute on you,” he tells me. “But I love seeing your eyes without anything over them.”

  I feel my cheeks heat. “Thank you.”

  He studies me for another beat. As I reach for my tiles, he says, “Hold up. I’m going again.”

  Momentarily surprised, I glance up, my bottom lip between my teeth again.

  He lays down tiles that spell out “kiss.”

  I swallow.

  Deliberately, he pushes himself to a kneeling position and leans across the board toward me.

  “You shouldn’t have bitten your lip like that,” he whispers, his breath brushing my mouth.

  I’d love to blame the white wines again, but it’s one hundred percent me who grabs him by the front of his vest, yanks him close, and devours his mouth.

  5

  Rhys

  Who knew a game of Scrabble could turn into…this. Even in my wildest fantasies, I never thought I could get this lucky.

  I tug at Violet’s hips, bringing her body close against mine. Maybe it was the wine, but she’s kissing me with an intensity that has me as dizzy as if I’ve been drinking shitty canned wine. Her passion blows me away, but I notice it’s tinged with something like desperation. Need.

  It’s exactly how I feel.

  She needs me—as much as I need her.

  With the tip of my tongue, I coax her lips open. I want to really taste her, feel her, and the sensation of our tongues sliding against each other nearly undoes me. I slip my hands into her hair. She’d let her braid out a while ago, and her golden hair is as silky-soft as I’d suspected it would be. I want to bury my nose in it, but that would involve me pulling my mouth from hers, and right now, that’s just too damn much to ask.

  You’re working, Officer, a voice in the back of my head reminds me.

  I pull back gently. “Violet, I’m not sure this is a good idea. I’m working, and…you’ve been drinking.”

  “I’m so not drunk,” she breathes, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Want to give me a sobriety test?”

  I do take a second to study her pupils and how they move. I’m tempted to do it, actually, because I don’t believe that buzzed consent is consent. But she looks totally steady and focused.

  But…the job.

  “I still…” I gesture over my shoulder toward the window.

  She steps away from me and toward the table, then picks up my radio. Before I can protest, she locates the volume knob and twists it all the way up until the sound of crackling and the occasional interruption from dispatch fills the room.

  Violet steps back into my arms and I can’t believe how much it feels like she was meant to be in them. “There,” she whispers. Her eyes plead with me.

  But duty…

  The voice easy to ignore. My radio’s turned up nice and loud. The scene below hasn’t changed at all. I can get to my rifle in the blink of an eye if necessary.

  Please, I beg whatever divine power might be listening. Just let me have this one moment. Please. I know it’ll never happen again.

  “Rhys,” Violet whispers.

  I crack my eyes open. Hers are still closed. She’s totally gone. The sight of her is so beautiful, it’s almost too much to bear.

  I pull back gently. “Let me take my vest off.”

  I undo the Velcro straps as she watches, touching her full lips with the tips of her fingers. The notion I’ve just tasted those lips has me reeling. I need more.

  When I’m free of the heavy vest, I tug her back in. She collapses in my arms.

  “Violet,” I murmur between kisses. “I want you. I know we just met.”

  “Shh,” she hisses, and the unmistakable note of impatience in her voice makes me smile. She tugs at my belt, but I have an idea and swivel my hips back, out of reach.

  I grin at her, and she stares back at me, full of suspicion.

  “Read to me,” I say, running my hands down her back and following the curve of her hips. “Please. Read me one of your scenes. Your favorite one.”

  She’s already shaking her head.

  I tilt her chin up. “I will do every single thing you write. Whatever your hero does to your heroine…I’m going to do it to you. So pick a good one for me.”

  I kiss her deeply. Shit, I don’t need a book to tell me what to do to Violet. My hands and mouth have a mind of their own. But I want to show her how wonderful her work is…by making her feel exquisite.

  She gazes up at me with wide eyes.

  “Please,” I beg in a whisper, lifting her hand to my mouth. I kiss her palm, then suck one of her fingers into my mouth, running my teeth along it gently.

  Violet steps away toward the bookshelf where she keeps her Scrabble game, and after a moment’s hesitation, withdraws a paperback with a pretty cover. A couple a
re in a tight embrace, but the skillful design work and cool typeface make it so far removed from the cheesy romances I used to make fun of my sister for reading when we were kids.

  The cover says “Violet Sweet.” Her pen name. I’ll bet she lives up to that name too.

  I grin. This is going to be fun. “Come on,” I say, drawing her toward me. “Start reading.”

  Her hands tremble slightly as she rifles through the pages, but the gleam in her eyes tells me it’s more from excited anticipation than nervousness—good.

  “‘William drew away from Leona and, taking her by the hand, led her into the bedroom,’” she reads in a breathy voice.

  I already located the bedroom earlier today. Smiling, I step back from her, lace our fingers together, and lead her toward the room. It’s too dim to read by, so I flick on the bedside lamp.

  Violet’s eyes widen even more at the sight. She said she was shy. Maybe the light’s too much for her.

  But to my delighted surprise, she boldly meets my eyes, then returns to the book, clearing her throat. “‘Leona’s body quivered with anticipation as William began to slowly undress her, delicately, as if she might explode under his very touch.’”

  I take the book from her and lay it down, keeping it open to her place. Then I carefully lift her loose sweater, sliding it up over her hips, up above her breasts, over her head, until it’s off. Underneath, she’s trim and curvy, with beautiful, generous breasts covered in a scrap of lacy material. I can just see the pink of her nipples behind black lace and it takes the whole man in me not to feast on them.

  She hasn’t read me that line yet.

  Instead, I slip my hands into the waistband of her leggings and tug them down. Her little thong matches the bra.

  There’s no point in even trying to hide the fact that my erection is huge and prominent, and it’s all because of her.

  “‘Leona gasps as William’s lips brush the inside of one thigh,’” Violet struggles to get out.

  I kneel to pull the leggings off her legs. I kiss the inside of one of her soft, shapely thighs, and she does indeed gasp. I grin, then straighten. I keep my hands to myself—I’m a good boy who listens to directions, after all, although every fiber of my being is screaming at me to touch, taste, be inside her now.

  “What happens next?” I ask softly.

  “Uh.” Violet searches the page. Her chest is heaving with excited breaths. “Uh. ‘William gently lays her on the bed, then stands back to undress himself. It’s every bit a show and a tease, just for Leona’s eyes, and she drinks in every second of it, her excitement growing hotter and wetter.’”

  Hot and wet. Shit. I’m no romance reader, but Violet’s words are turning me on.

  I touch her bare waist and gently guide her back toward her bed until she’s perched on the end of it, then scoot her back. I tug her thighs apart. I want a good view as I undress before her. First I unbutton my uniform POLICE shirt and pull it off my shoulders. Next I lose the thigh holster with my pistol—that I set at a safe distance away on the floor. I loosen my belt, then pull off my tight white undershirt. Next I tug down my cargo pants.

  Finally, I peel off my boxer briefs.

  My heavy, stiff cock pops out, reaching out toward Violet.

  Her eyes flutter and roll back into her head for a second.

  “Skip to the touching part,” I command softly, clenching and unclenching my hands. Every part of me is tense—not with self-consciousness, but with the insane need to touch her.

  She swallows, her eyes skimming down the page. “‘W-William parts Leona’s thighs—’”

  Thank God. I climb onto the bed and lean over her, making her lean back against her pillows, and I part her thighs.

  “‘She bites her lip as he trails his mouth all over her soft belly, teasing her nipples, all the while causing her to grow soaked down between her thighs.”

  I lower my mouth to her skin. Her belly is soft, yielding under the gentle pressure of my mouth and tongue as I map its contours. My hands drift up to breasts, and I brush her nipples. One of them feels—interesting.

  I lift my head, fingers lingering on the nipple that caught my attention.

  She blushes. “It’s…pierced.”

  “Oh, fuck yes,” I growl. “Gonna go off script here for a second, beautiful.”

  She helps me pull the lacy bra off her, her full breasts bouncing free. Her right nipple has a little silver ball on each side of it, and I zoom right in, closing my mouth around it, playing with it, teasing it. Violet arches underneath me, moaning softly. She writhes a little, and I know that’s an unconscious physical display of her utter, consuming need.

  My cock weeps a little with excitement, and I sternly tell it to tighten up. We have work ahead of us. I move my mouth to her other nipple, lest it feel neglected.

  “‘Leona’s fingers knot in William’s hair,’” Violet reads in a throaty voice, and tightens her fingers against the longer part of my hair on top of my head as I continue to work on her breast. “‘His sweet torture of her is nowhere near complete, though she’s not sure how much more she can stand. Then she feels his hot breath against the wet, puffy skin of her…’”

  She trails off, and I lift my head. She’s blushing furiously again.

  “The wet, puffy skin of her what?” I prompt softly. “You have to say it if you want me to do it.”

  She takes a deep breath, glances at the page, then back at me. She recites from memory, “‘Then she feels his hot breath against the wet, puffy skin of her pussy.’”

  A smile that might be a little bit evil curls up my mouth. I scoot down her body and waste no time tugging her panties off. I run my hands up and down her smooth legs, gently squeezing her fleshy thighs as I lean close.

  She’s trimmed and neat, and she is most definitely wet as hell.

  I lower my mouth until I’m a breath away. “Go on.”

  Violet whimpers. “‘As—as he nears her, Leona finds herself mindlessly desperate for his tongue, his sweet tongue, sliding slicky against her flesh’—oh my God!”

  I hold her hips in place and devour her like I’m on death row and she’s my last meal. I tease her opening with the tip of my tongue, up and down, up and down. Her body tightens and shakes. Then I use my fingers to gently spread her open, and pull her into my mouth.

  She’s not reading, she’s moaning, so I give her a light smack on the side of her ass to prompt her. “‘Leona bucked against his tongue,’” Violet gasps. She swirls her hips against my mouth. Trickles of sweetness spurt onto my tongue. Who needs wine when you have Violet’s sweet, sweet juice? I suck greedily. “‘She felt the incredible heat of pleasure centering itself at the apex of her thighs. Just a little more, she thought, working against his tongue and mouth. Just a little…’”

  The final word explodes out of her mouth in a wail of pleasure as she comes on my tongue. It is the best moment of my life thus far, and I drink down every bit of her, letting no errant drop go to waste.

  I’d love to know how she writes the actual sex, but I’ve tortured us both enough for now. I slide up her body.

  “Can I have you now?” I plead against her mouth, slipping my tongue in to let her taste herself. She moans and latches on. At the same time, her legs part, and her knees hug my ribs.

  That is a hell yes.

  I line up at her opening, sopping wet from my attention and her pleasure, and slide in, one torturous centimeter at a time. I’m a generously endowed man, blessed with a thick eight and a half inches, and she is so tight I could die from the pleasure of it, right here, right now. I have to take my time—for her comfort, and so I don’t let us both down.

  Simply entering her is the greatest pleasure I’ve ever had—until I start moving. Her greedy hands latch onto my ass cheeks, and without a word, she sets my pace—deep, and hard. My hips slam against hers, and I bottom out inside her with each stroke, but she only moans, whining and high-pitched, each time. Her nails bite into my ass, and she pulls and pus
hes, wordlessly begging for more.

  I’ve never in my life felt anything as sweet as Violet Randall feels. She’s a tiny slice of heaven beneath me, and if it weren’t for the crazy asshole in the house across the street, I might never have met her. Might never have found myself here with her.

  Might never have fallen in love with her in the most natural, effortless way possible, as if I was always meant to find her, just like this, and love her, just like this.

  I manage to keep up the controlled pace she craves until she gasps, “Rhys, please, give it to me. I need you. Faster.”

  “Anything for you,” I grind out between clenched teeth, and kick my hips into overdrive. Her tight, wet clench and the fast pace bring us both over the edge. I explode inside her with a grunt as she clamps down tight around me, her exquisite little muscles pulsing rapidly against my cock like a massage. I coat her insides with my seed and stay locked between her legs as we fight to breathe.

  Her arms slide around me to hold me close.

  “‘As Leona lay in William’s arms,’” she whispers in my ear, “‘waiting for her heart to finally slow, she was struck by a realization. A simple, yet terrifying one.’”

  I tuck my face in her neck, waiting, holding my breath.

  “‘She was in love with him,” Violet recites softly. “‘Him, the one she’d had no idea she’d been waiting for all this time. Her whole life.’”

  The words hang in the air between us. My throat is strangely tight, and I’m moved by those words. So much, I don’t trust myself to speak.

  If I could, I’d make my own attempt at poetic phrasing.

  He’d been waiting for her, too. For a lifetime, and more. But love is patient, as the saying goes.

  And how he loved her.

  6

  Violet

  I lay beneath Rhys, feeling his warm breaths covering my neck, and feeling like the world’s biggest ass.

  Did I really just tell him I loved him?

  What’s more—did I mean it?

  Maybe my own writing was getting to me and making me believe I could live out my own love story. Maybe it was being lonely for so long and finally having someone—an amazing someone—in my bed and making me feel protected and cared for.