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His face turns into the side of my neck. His nose grazes my jawline before he lifts his head, and our eyes meet.
It’s not fair,I think, tracing the lines and angles on a face I have longed for since I was seventeen. Of all the men on the planet, why did it have to be him? Why the one guy who could set a bomb off on so many lives if anyone found out?
Still, when he raises a hand and brushes a stray tear away, I instinctively turn my face into his palm. When he drops his lips to my cheek, I tighten my arms around his neck.
We lie in the tangled afterglow of our sins, and I have never felt so much pain and peace.
Morning sheds light on our shame, or at least, it’s supposed to. Instead, when I open my eyes, I’m molded into the hard curve of Rhys’s front, enveloped in his strong arms. My face is nestled in the hollow of his throat. His nimble fingers trace the line of my spine in soothing strokes that would have lulled me straight back to sleep if his gorgeous cock wasn’t a throbbing distraction grinding into the soft flesh of my belly.
I want it.
I want him.
The morning is supposed to fix my skewed reality, slap me back to my senses, not have me reaching down between our bodies to the thick piece of man meat already smearing pre-cum across my stomach.
“Addie.” His tone is heavy with sleep and warning, but he doesn’t stop me when I slip a leg over his hip and pull myself on top.
Neither of us say another word as I take him. As I sink inch by agonizing inch down his girth. I don’t stop him cupping my breasts, teasing my nipples as I ride him with leisurely shallow thrusts. My nails leave marks in his chiseled chest. My marks. My ownership. I love seeing the welts blaze crimson.
Mine.
For now, at least.
Until I have to face my choices in the light of reality and the consequences of my actions. Until I have to face Mom and Oz, and—
Rhys sits up without warning and I tumble backwards off him with a squeak. He grabs me and flips me over onto my stomach. His heavy hand smacks into my left ass cheek and I yelp. He does it again in the same spot, making the skin burn and my legs kick.
“Rhys!”
His response is grabbing my hips and dragging me down under him.
“Stop thinking,” he hisses into my ear right before he plunges inside me, capsizing my soul and sending my nerves into chaos. “In my bed, the only thought you should have is how I’m going to fuck you next.”
The clock on the nightstand declares it to be well after noon when Rhys finishes with me, and I can look him in the face without wanting him back inside me. The several hours between waking up and my last orgasm is a blur of hands and mouths and satiated moans as we made up for the last two years.
I’ve never been so happy. So unimaginably relieved. The face reveal had been a gift from God and if I wasn’t stunned at the same time, I would have cried with joy.
“Not disappointed?” Rhys — my Rhys — asks with his mouth on my neck and his cock in my hands.
“With him?” I give the appendage a playful squeeze. “Never. He’s brought me so much happiness. Five stars.”
Rhys laughs and the vibration tickles my skin. “I meant that I’m Atticus.”
“Ah, that. Well,” I scoot up onto my elbow and peer down into his breathtaking face. For a moment, I’m too overwhelmed with the knowledge that he’s actually here that I forget what I’m going to say. “I didn’t want him to be anyone else,” I confess quietly. “I couldn’t ask him ... you to take the mask off because if it wasn’t you...”
I sound so stupid and pathetic, but I don’t know how else to explain the fear that had sunk serrated claws into my chest for two years.
Rhys captures my chin and lifts my eyes up, forcing me to face him.
“I wouldn’t ever let it be anyone else who got to have you. It was me or nothing.”
I have so many questions, so many thoughts, they tangle up in my head, making it impossible to think, nor do I get the chance to when my stomach gurgles loudly, demanding sustenance.
Rhys is out of bed before I can function and he’s pulling me with him despite my protests. I’m dragged into the bathroom where he takes an exceptionally long time lathering every inch of my body with body wash. Somehow, rubbing his palms down my legs, his mouth finds my sex and I’m holding Rhys by the back of the head, one foot braced on his shoulder as I ride his face.
Downstairs, he makes the rest of the turkey bacon and eggs with whole wheat toast. He sits me on the counter to feed us both from the same plate and ... I can’t stop staring at him.
I can’t look away.
