Page 47 of Restored By You

“Right, well.” I sweep an arm, playing hostess, my pulse already picking up. “Kitchen you can see. Living room, obviously. That’s Tyler’s dungeon over there.” I nod toward his door. “Balcony is through there, best view of the slopes, though it’s freezing this time of night.”

“Shea.” Rhett hasn’t moved from the entryway. There’s a smile pulling at his mouth, slow and knowing. “You going to show me the rest, or you gonna keep pointing at rooms I don’t care about?”

Heat floods my face. Busted.

I take a breath. Roll my shoulders back. Remember that I am a grown woman who has dressed A-list celebrities and does not, as a rule, get flustered by a man in flannel.

I hold out my hand. He crosses the room, taking my hand, and I lead him to my room at the end. I pull him inside and close the door behind us with a soft click. I turn to face him, my back against the cool wood, and for a second, I just look at him—standing in the middle of my room like he’s not sure he’s allowed to be here.

All that quiet power, hard muscles and broad shoulders filling up the space, hands loose at his sides, waiting for me to make the next move. God, that does something to me. A man his size, and he waits.

“So, here’s the thing,” I say, pushing off the door. “You wouldn’t let me buy you a present.”

“Shea.”

“But I’m going to give you one anyway.” I close the distance and flatten my palms against his chest, feeling his heart kick under my palms. “And you’re going to let me.”

His grin is devilishly slow as one brow lifts, amused. “That so.”

“Mhm.” I fist the hem of his shirt and push it up. He lets me tug it over his head and drop to the floor. Swoon. I’ve felt this chest under my hands twice now and it still knocks the breath out of me—all that hard, worked muscle, the trail of hair down his stomach. I drag my nails down his abdomen and he shivers. “Rule one. You don’t get to do anything. Tonight’s about you.”

“Baby.” His voice drops and my insides do somersaults. “That’s gonna be real hard.”

“You’ll manage.” I press a kiss to the center of his chest, then lower. “Sit down, birthday boy.”

He sits on the edge of my bed, and I follow him down onto my knees, and the look on his face… The way his jaw goes tight, his hands flexing against his thighs like he’s fighting not to reach for me has heat pooling low in my belly before I’ve even touched him.

I work his belt open, the button, the zipper, taking my time the way he took with me. He lifts his hips when I tug his jeans and briefs down. His cock springs free, thick and hard, leaking at the tip, and my mouth waters.

He groans. “Shea…”

“Shh.” I wrap my hand around the base of him. He’s hot and heavy in my palm. I stroke him once, root to tip, watching a bead of precum well up. “Let me give you your gift.”

I lick the head of his cock clean, and the sound that punches out of his chest is filthy. His hand comes up to my hair, not guiding, just holding, threading through my curls like an anchor. I swirl my tongue over the swollen head, tasting the salt of him, and then I take him into my mouth as much as I can. I hollow my cheeks, sinking down until he nudges the back of my throat.

“Fuck.” His head drops back, the tendons in his neck going taut. “Fuck, baby, your mouth.”

I moan around him and his length twitches against my tongue. I set a rhythm, slow and deep, my hand working what my mouth can’t reach. And I get the pleasure of feeling him come apart above me—this steady, unshakable man, undone on the edge of my bed, all because I decided to undo him. The power of it is intoxicating.

I’ve never wanted anything the way I want to wreck Rhett Montgomery.

His grip tightens in my hair. “Shea, baby, you gotta—ugh, if you keep goin’ I’m gonna—” He’s breathing hard, hips straining not to thrust up into my mouth. “Come here. Please, baby.”

I release him with a wet pop and he hauls me up off the floor before I’ve fully found my feet, dragging me onto his lap. His mouth finds mine, hungry, tasting himself on my tongue.

“Off,” he grunts, tugging at my sweater. “All of it. Now.”

“That’s very demanding for a man who isn’t supposed to be doing anything,” I tease, but I’m already pulling it over my head, shimmying out of my jeans. His hands are everywhere the second there’s bare skin to touch—my waist, my ribs, cupping my breasts, thumbs dragging over my nipples until I gasp.

“Rule one, huh,” he murmurs against my throat, echoing me, a smile in it. “Get up here and take what you want, then.”

I don’t need telling twice.

I straddle him, my knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. I reach between us to line him up. The blunt head of him drags through my wet center and we both shudder. I sink down—slow, inch by delicious inch. My breath catches as he stretches me open, filling me so completely my head falls forward against his.

“Oh.” I can barely get the sound out. “Oh, Rhett…”

“I know, baby.” His hands grip my hips, steadying me. His jaw clenched tight. “Take your time. Fuck, you feel so fuckin’ good.”