Rhodes cleared his throat and removed his hand quickly. “Good. Come on, we have work to do. Only two more workouts until weigh-in day.”
He didn’t tell me what the numbers were on the scale and I was grateful. The rest of my life was such a mess — I needed something scheduled, something reliable and stable. Weigh-in day was Sunday. I needed that to look forward to and dread all at the same time.
Rhodes worked me just as hard that day as he usually did. It almost felt like normal, except his hands touched me more, his eyes almost never left me, and the energy between us caught fire.
When our session ended and I all but limped to my gym bag, I waited for Rhodes’ next move. I half expected him to dismiss me like usual, but the other half of me was anxiously awaiting something — anything — that meant I wouldn’t have to say goodbye yet.
Rhodes held up his hand for a high five and it took more energy than I cared to admit to meet his hand with my own.
“Nice job today. See you same time tomorrow?”
I was smiling, but I couldn’t help the disappointment I felt when I realized the first half of me was correct. “Okay.”
He grinned, a sexy, not-safe-for-the-gym grin, and then turned toward the men’s locker room. It was when his hand left mine that I realized he’d replaced it with a small, folded piece of notebook paper.
Dinner. My place. 8 o’clock.
Bring your camera.
Biting my lower lip, I shoved the note into my bag and made my way out of the gym. The workout was over, but the heartrate on my watch display only climbed higher. It took eight words to send my body into overdrive. Just eight words scribbled on an off-white sheet of paper.
Rhodes was better cardio than a marathon.
• • •
“Did you bring your camera?” Rhodes asked as he hand-washed our dishes from dinner. I was full and sore and exhausted, but being with Rhodes somehow made me feel like I could run miles.
Nodding, I slid up next to him, grabbing the soft blue towel hanging from the oven and using it to dry each dish as he finished. “I did. Why?”
“Do you have the photos you took at the fair still on it?”
“Yes?” I said the word almost as a question.
He nodded. “Go grab it.”
Rhodes took the last dish from my hands and finished drying it before dabbing his own hands on the towel and following me over to the couch. He fell down onto it easily, propping his feet on the table as I rummaged through my bag for my camera. When I had it powered on and pulled up to the photos he referenced, I sat down carefully on the middle cushion of the small couch. Though I wasn’t hugging the opposite arm like usual, I was still nervous to sit too close to Rhodes. I felt like he was a caged animal. One wrong move might send him running or cause him to attack. I wasn’t sure which was worse.
But as soon as I sat, Rhodes pulled me into him, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. I stiffened before easing into him, focusing on my breaths. He was dressed in relaxed sleep pants and another Poxton High School weightlifting t-shirt. His hair was still damp from his shower, mussed, and sexy. He was always so sexy.
Am I just now noticing that? Or just now admitting it?
“Show me the photos you took that night.”
“I hate all of them, just so you know,” I prefaced, scrolling through the photos with him looking over my shoulder. “I couldn’t capture what it felt like to be there.”
Rhodes studied each photo carefully, stopping me if I scrolled through too quickly. When we reached the end, I watched his face with curiosity. His brows were furrowed, his eyes contemplative.
“You don’t feel in control of your life.”
He said the words as a statement, not as a question, and so I didn’t answer. I kept my eyes fixed on his, though suddenly it was difficult to swallow.
“Looking at the pictures on your wall and at those you just showed me, there’s so much control in the shot. It’s almost too by the book, like photography is the only thing you think you can fully control and follow a manual to figure out.”
His words hit me square in the gut and I had to fight the urge to double over from the weight of them.
“It’s not that you don’t shoot beautiful photos, because you do,” he clarified, sitting up straighter. His arm left my shoulder in the process and I reached out to touch his leg, desperate to be connected. “But I see what you don’t see, Natalie. I see the beauty in the imperfections of the world. I think you need to look a little closer.”
My breaths were loud, my voice hoarse. “You don’t see the beauty in you.”
Rhodes’ face hardened and he pulled away from my grasp, propping his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. He stared forward at the television, though it wasn’t powered on. “There’s nothing beautiful about me.”
My heart ached, and I reached for him once more. He flinched when my fingers found his back, and he remained still — almost statuesque — as I trailed them lightly up until I found his neck, his hair, and I pulled him close.
“You told me I had to start believing I was beautiful,” I said, louder than before but still just above a whisper. “If I do, then you do, too.”
Pressing his forehead to mine, Rhodes shook his head slightly. “I’m not like you, Natalie. Can’t you see that?” He exhaled, the air leaving his lungs and reviving my own. “I stayed away from you for so long because I know who I am. I know what I’m capable of.” He pulled back, his intense eyes locking on my own. “We both know I’m going to hurt you. It’s one of the reasons we avoided this for so long. Admit it,” he said, swallowing. “You know I’m not good for you.”
I chewed my bottom lip, blindly thumbing at the settings on my camera until I knew they were where I wanted them. His assessment couldn’t be farther from the truth, in my mind at least. He was maybe the only thing good in my life that summer. Slowly, I lifted the camera, and snapped one, single photo. It was close — too close to focus without taking more time — but I didn’t know if I’d have it. I expected Rhodes to hide or flinch or turn his body away, but he didn’t. I aimed the lens at his left eye, the one that always squinted slightly when I knew he was thinking about something he wouldn’t speak out loud. Glancing at the photo on the camera screen, I smiled, and then showed it to Rhodes.
“How’s this for looking a little closer?”
Rhodes smirked, his eyes hard on the photo as if it were the only one he’d ever been in. For all I knew, it very well could have been. Slowly, I slipped my hand into his and pressed my index finger hard to the inside of his wrist. I felt his heart pulsing through the vein, hard and steady, but nowhere near as fast as mine. He moved his own finger to mirror mine, and we were connected, hand to hand, heart to heart, and I’d never felt closer to anyone in my entire life.
Rhodes wrapped his index finger around my wrist to join the rest of his fingers and he gripped tight, pulling me into him and closing the distance between us. His lips found mine in a mixture of passion and need. I moaned instinctively, which only made Rhodes kiss me harder.
I could sense him holding back. His hands gripped me hard and I winced, though not from pain — from the shocking pleasure of it all. Still, a small wrinkle formed where his brows met and he kissed me softer, taking his time. When my hand slipped under his shirt and fingered the hem of his boxers, he growled, lifting me hastily from the couch. I wrapped my legs around him and it felt natural — like I wasn’t as heavy as I knew I was. He held me as if I was just a dainty doll, but he eyed me as if I were a vixen. He wanted me. I could feel it pouring out of every inch of his body, and I’d never experienced a power rush quite so strong.
He threw me onto the bed when we reached his room, quickly pulling off my tight jeans as I maneuvered out of my shirt. My heart kicked against my ribs in an unsteady rhythm as I stripped for the second time in front of Rhodes. The first time I’d felt self-conscience and unsure, but this time, my need to be skin on skin with Rhodes outweighed my embarrassmen
t. For a moment, I let myself believe I was beautiful — just like he’d said.
Rhodes fell down on top of me, bracing himself on his elbows. My fingers found the hard muscles of his biceps and I gripped them tight, holding on for dear life. He lifted me just enough to unsnap my bra and toss it to the side and then his mouth was on my breast, sucking hard, awakening every sleeping cell in my body.
I bit my lip, soft moans escaping through the slight opening of my mouth. Rhodes trailed his rough hand down my skin, leaving an electric fire in its wake, until he found my center. He didn’t even bother removing my panties. He swiftly moved them to the side and before my brain could process what was happening, he slid two fingers inside me.
I cried out, the intense pleasure surrounding me.
“Christ,” Rhodes muttered, and I wasn’t sure if it was a curse or a prayer. He removed his fingers slowly before reentering them once more. His arms were tense and I felt him focusing on his breaths. He was restraining himself, touching me gently as if he was afraid he’d break me.
It was a slow build, and I wriggled beneath his hand, asking without words for him to move faster, harder, deeper. He would give in, give me what I want, and then pull the reigns back once more. Cupping his hand around me, his palm massaged my clit each time his fingers slid inside, the combination stirring an energy deep inside me. I pulled my lips between my teeth and bit down harder, stifling my moans. Each time I released them, Rhodes would catch them with his own lips. They were plumping, swelling from the pressure and the pleasure.
My cheeks were on fire as I squirmed, holding my breath. There was something slowly coming together inside me. It was a cool fire, and I reached for it as much as I cowered away.
“It’s okay to let me know you like it, Natalie,” he breathed, slowing his movements. I felt every inch of his long fingers as he slid them in and then withdrew them. He was steady, calculated, the perfect equation for impossible satisfaction. “You can moan, or scream…” His words trailed off and he sucked my nipple. Hard. “Or say my name.”
I moaned, arching into him. His erection was pressed against my inner thigh and I desperately wanted him inside me, but I knew that wasn’t his intention. He wanted me to come apart at the touch of his fingers, and I was only moments away.
“Let it out,” he demanded, this time a bit louder. His hand moved faster, his fingers hitting a spot inside me I’d never known existed. I moaned a little louder, but it wasn’t good enough. Rhodes flexed his hips, lighting my insides on fire. I groaned, but again, I knew he wanted more.
He removed his fingers long enough to make quick work of my panties, and then I was completely naked in his bed. He still had every stitch of his clothing on, but I was fully exposed — spread out, panting, needing. Rhodes’ eyes devoured me, breath hitting his chest like a fist. It was a constant battle — he would take me hard one moment and pull back the next. I was the elixir for everlasting life and he wanted to drink me slowly and yet consume me quickly and all at once. I felt his own need radiating like heat from his body, but he subdued it with each breath.
Hooking his hands around my hips, Rhodes yanked me to the end of the bed and then stopped himself, dropping to his knees slowly and finding my eyes with his own before sliding two fingers inside me once more. His teeth raked over the flesh of his bottom lip when I moaned and slowly, with restraint, he lowered his mouth to my clit.
Oh. My. God.
As soon as his hot mouth surrounded my sensitive skin, I moaned uncontrollably. Each flick of his tongue mixed with the pressure of his fingers inside me in a deadly dance. My moans turned to screams, and though I gripped the sheets and tried to hold on, I flew off the edge, losing every ounce of balance left in my already unsteady world.
It was like a wave, slow and steady at first and then crashing down on me all at once. I was drowning, suffocating, fighting for air as the electric current ripped through me. I didn’t just scream Rhodes’ name, I moaned it, and cried it, and offered it up to the gods as an excuse for the sin I knew I’d never let go.
When the sensation passed, my legs fell lax against the sheets and I closed my eyes tight. I had no idea what I sounded like to Rhodes, but my cheeks blushed from embarrassment the moment the unbridled passion faded. He kissed up my body slowly, taking his time, leaving no inch of skin to feel jealous of another. When his lips found mine again, he kissed me slower, softer, and his eyes were open, fixed on mine.
“That was incredibly sexy.”
I shook my head. “That, I, I’ve never, I don’t—” Words were lost. I was lost.
Rhodes’s eyes widened and he pulled back, propping himself up on one elbow. “Wait,” he said the word tentatively, brushing a strand of my fallen hair from my face. “Was that your first orgasm?”
“Is that what that was?!” He laughed a little at my reaction and I blushed harder, covering my face with the sheets. “I thought I’d had one before. I thought I knew what it felt like. But that…”
“That… what? Say what you want to say, Bug.”
Dropping the sheets, I leaned up to mirror his position. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.”
Rhodes grinned, slowly dragging his teeth over the tender, swollen flesh of his bottom lip. Sliding his hand up my neck until his thumb brushed my jaw, his smile faded. “You’re the first girl I’ve ever wanted to take my time with,” he whispered, shaking his head. “But then again, I feel like I’m racing against time. Like I only have so long to touch you.”
I covered his hand resting on my cheek with my own, leaning into him. I didn’t know what to say, because as much as I wanted to tell him he had all the time in the world, he was somewhat right about what he said earlier. I did feel what he felt — like what we had was fleeting.
A soft smile found his lips again when I didn’t answer. “That was nothing, by the way. You have no idea, Natalie.”
And maybe I didn’t.
But I couldn’t wait to find out.
Chapter Thirteen
SO THAT’S HOW IT was.
Rhodes trained me like normal, and he never touched me inappropriately in the gym. We were client and trainer, behaved and natural. He pushed me harder, and I fought him less. He smiled more, which made me do the same.
Rhodes loved to touch me when we weren’t in the gym.
He brought me pleasure in ways I’d never experienced before, yet we still hadn’t gone all the way. In fact, I had yet to give him a release, which bothered me. When I would try, he would tell me to wait. For what, I didn’t know. But, I didn’t argue — the truth was, I enjoyed his attention. We were practically inseparable, and I was learning more about him every day. He was even opening up about his sister, though those conversations were few and far between. When he let that part of him be seen—when he opened himself to me — those were the times I loved the most.
With Mason, sex was always rushed. It was sloppy and purposeful — we went until he grunted out a release and collapsed on top of me. I thought that’s all sex was, but before Rhodes had even touched me — when he had only heated me with his gaze — I knew there was more.
And God, did Rhodes show me more.
I lost the desire to talk to Mason at all. After the way he let me down at the fair, I wasn’t even sure who he was anymore. And the more attention I got from Rhodes, the less I cared about the lack of attention I was getting from Mason. Soon, his texts became fewer and fewer, he gave up trying to get me to talk to him, and I fell easily into my new reality with Rhodes.
But every now and then, Rhodes would slip into the same person I met at the beginning of the summer. He would shut down, block me out, or be evasive. Sometimes, he would have to leave my house to “go somewhere” or “do something”, but he never told me what. I questioned him a few times, but he would always change the subject or tell me not to worry, which in turn only made me worry more. I didn’t want to suspect another woman, not with the way he looked at me, but that’s where my mind immediately went
. Sometimes I could talk myself out of it, but then my mind would go to even darker places. Because if it wasn’t another woman, what exactly was it? Mostly, I just felt this uncertainty deep in my stomach. Something was off, but he wasn’t telling me what.
It was just over a week later at our Sunday weigh-in session that I knew I was losing him again.
“Oh no...” I stared at the number on the large glass scale in Rhodes’ training office, the same one I’d seen the Sunday before, and I felt my stomach sink. This was it, I’d hit my limit. I was failing.
“It happens, Bug,” Rhodes said, but he seemed distracted as he scribbled something on my file. “We’ll switch up your diet and cardio, see if that helps and go from there.”
“What if it doesn’t work?”
Rhodes pursed his lips, shaking his head slightly. “Then we’ll figure it out.”
“How are you so sure?”
“Because I know what I’m doing. I’ve trained hundreds of women. This happens to everyone. It’s called a plateau.”
I flinched when he mentioned how many women he’d trained, because we both knew what usually went with that. I shuddered once more when I realized that, technically, I was one of them.
But that was a lie.
Because I knew, deep down, that I was more to him. Or maybe I just wanted to know that. I longed for that reassurance. That was what both terrified me and gave me hope at the same time. Rhodes wasn’t an easy break. I knew there was more of him to discover. But just like he didn’t treat me like any of the other women in his life, I was determined to help him find his own value. He looked at me as if I were an investment — something he believed in — and I saw him in the same light.
“I feel like I’m failing.”
Rhodes pinched the bridge of his nose. “Natalie, you’ve lost twenty-six pounds. In just over a month. Trust me, you’re fine.”
I could tell I was annoying him, but I couldn’t stop myself from talking. “Did I do something to upset you?”
The Pain in Loving You Page 15
