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Oz takes a slow, steadying breath. “No, of course not, but...” he shakes his head again. “I guess we should meet him then, right?
Shit.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
RHYS
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I wait for my Addie in the shadows of the corridor.
Below, voices drift up as guests arrive and move through the house to the patio. My Aunt Iris barks the loudest, a tirade of indignation over some commercial she’d seen. The actual complaint fades the further she goes.
I can’t tell how many people have actually made it, but there seems to be a lot.
It makes no difference to me, but someone may notice our absence and I fucking need Addie.
I need my baby.
It’s been way too long since I held her, smelled her delicious scent, kissed her sweet mouth. I can’t wait until everyone’s gone to hold her.
She’s not in her room when I slip inside. It’s dim, lit only by the lamplight next to the bed she’s had since coming into my life.
Addie has always been a creature of habit. Her space is always neat and tidy. Even as children, while my room had been a tornado-struck mess, Addie had all her books neatly organized by author on the three rows of bookshelves Dad built into the wall at the foot of her bed. Her work desk consisted of her laptop, a cup of pens and her schoolwork. Her bed was made in the morning and her clothes tucked away in the closet and dresser.
Currently, her overnight lies open on the mattress. Items are placed in neat piles across the floral spread.
Addie herself emerges from the dark bathroom attached to her room and we both jump, startled by the other.
“Rhys!” her little gasp dissolves into a brilliant smile. The next second, she’s running straight into my arms. “I was hoping you’d come up,” she whispers into my chest.
I tighten my hold on her. “You told our parents you loved me,” I murmur into the top of her head.
“I thought maybe if we broke things to them slowly, got them used to the idea...” she tips her face back to peer up at me. “I also don’t want to be set up with anyone else.”
My fingers slide into her thick strands and cup the back of her head. “Good, because you’re mine, Addie.”
She nods vehemently. “I only want to be yours.”
“Mine,” I stress, dropping my lips to her waiting ones. “Your mouth.” I bite her bottom fold, eliciting a moan. “Your skin.” I travel along the curve of her neck. My hands work the hem of her hoodie, and I drag the fabric off over her head. “Your tits.” The neckline of her tank top is dragged down under the generous globes and I’m on them, sucking the nipples and palming the spongy mounds.
“Yes! Yours.”
Her small hands are in my hair, holding me to her as she tries to go up on her toes to get more.
I cup her tight ass and lift her. Her long legs snap around my hips, and I take her to the bed.
“Who does your sweet pussy belong to, baby?”
I dump her down at the foot and claim my place between her already spread thighs. Her arousal wafts through the room and I can feel myself getting drunk on it.
Her plain, white panties already have a wet patch at the crotch, and I think how I barely touched her. I haven’t done a fucking thing to her yet.
“Who does your pussy belong to?” I say again, hands working the belt at my waist.
“You,” she breathes, big, dark eyes on my hands. “She’s yours.”
The leather slides free of their loops and I wind it in my hand until only a foot of leather remains dangling free.
