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I’m dying to.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Willow
I can sense Rhett is waiting for me to make a decision—and I appreciate that he’s leaving it all up to me. He doesn’t try to coerce me into going into the room with him—instead he’s giving me the power to make my own choice. And it’s not like it’s something he’s giving me either. He respects me and my decisions, and I appreciate that more than he’ll ever know.
It’s almost as if he was made for me. Only me.
Some would call me spoiled, and I wouldn’t argue with them. I understand that I live an incredible life of privilege, where I never have to worry about money or getting what I want—for the most part. But those are material things. When it comes to people, it’s harder to trust, to share parts of myself without fear of judgment or worse, someone wanting to get close to me only because of my family and the wealth that comes with it. It’s difficult to know who has your best interests at heart. I think of Alana and how quick she was to turn on our friendship for her own happiness. And now look at her, most likely miserable with Silas.
I suppose that’s what she deserves.
Mulling over this makes me understand Iris’s behavior even more now. Why she’s so afraid to trust. To readily give her heart to someone—to break down those walls and let Brooks in. That’s all he wants. He seems to accept her for who she is, but she still has difficulty seeing that and I finally get why.
Letting down our guard and letting someone into our private world isn’t easy. People want to use us for what we can give them, for our status. If you’re sincere, starting a relationship with a Lancaster can’t be easy.
My gaze finds Rhett, my heart swelling the longer I study him. I trust him. I adore him. It’s only been a few weeks that we’ve known each other but there’s not a doubt in my mind that he would ever hurt me. I care about him, and the idea of that is thrilling and scary and exciting and terrifying.
“Can we go to your room?” I ask shyly, smiling.
The pleased look on his face makes my heart beat harder. “Is that what you want?”
I go to him, letting my towel drop with a wet plop onto the floor, and he opens his towel up, pulling me in closer and wrapping me up in his arms. I feel nothing but damp skin and hard muscles and I rest my hand on his stomach, noting how the muscles jump there.
“It’s what I want,” I whisper.
In a flash he’s hurriedly escorting me to his room, opening the door with jerky movements and practically shoving me inside. I go willingly, turning to face him when he enters, reaching behind him to twist the lock into place. He tosses his towel onto the connected bathroom floor, stalking toward me with a serious look on his handsome face. His mouth is pursed, his eyes are sparkling with mischief, and I can’t help it.
Squealing, I try to run, but it’s no use. He catches me with ease, his arm hooking around my middle, hauling me close to him. I savor the press of his skin against mine, how hot he is and when he bends down, he scoops me completely into his arms, cradling me as he walks me over to the bed.
“Put me down,” I tell him, trying to put up a struggle, but it’s pitiful at best. I’m enjoying it too much.
Rhett does as I ask though, dropping me onto the bed and following after me, caging me with his big body. I’m pinned to the mattress by his bulky frame and I love it.
Winding my arms around his neck, I tangle my fingers into the damp hair at his nape, toying with it as I stare up into his face. He’s so handsome he makes my heart ache. I touch his cheek and let my hand drift down, my fingers streaking across his mouth. He kisses my fingertips, the gesture sweet, and I rear up, pressing my mouth to his in a simple kiss.
“What was that for?” he asks after I pull away, dipping his head to nuzzle my cheek with his nose.
“I like you,” I whisper, and it’s true. “I like how you treat me.”
“How do I treat you?”
“Like I’m breakable, but that’s okay because you’re there to put me back together if necessary.” I smile.
Rhett does too. “I like how you put that.”
“Was it corny?”
“No. It was kind of romantic.” It’s his turn to kiss me. “Are you implying that I’m the only one who can put you back together?”
“You’re the only one who knows my exact fit.” Oh, that sounds silly. I’m being silly, but it truly feels like that with Rhett.
Like he’s the only one who understands me. Who sees me for who I really am.
“I’m totally rushing things, aren’t I?” I ask, a little embarrassed. “Maybe we should change the subject.”
“No.” It’s his turn to touch my face, his fingers firm when they wrap around my chin. “I think we’re both rushing things.”
