REX (Finding Love)

by Beth Michele

  “Well, that I watch and listen, and give people my attention as they open their hearts and share their stories. It reminds me that what I do every day is important.”

  “I love that, and your passion for your work,” I say, and if I’m not mistaken a small hint of red colors his cheeks. It’s the first time I’ve seen him blush and he looks adorable. But I think I’ll keep that to myself.

  “I feel pretty disgusting. Can I take a shower?” I cast him what is hopefully a seductive smile, meeting his gaze. “You have to shower, too, don’t you?”

  “Why indeed, I do.” A mischievous grin forms around his mouth, lighting his eyes. He holds out his hand to me. “Let’s go.”

  I slip my palm into his, a tingle coursing through me at the smooth, yet slightly rough feel of it.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  “Yes, fine,” I say back quickly. I can’t let on how much he affects me.

  When we get into the bathroom, he opens the stall door and turns the handle for the shower, standing just outside of it. “We need to give it just a second, it takes a minute to warm up. Need help getting undressed?” He grins, and I put a hand on my hip.

  “I’m mostly recovered, I think I can handle it,” I profess as he continues smirking. He takes his boxers down, my eyes involuntarily following the direction of his hands, landing on his erection.

  A sexy grin is sent my way before he steps inside, holding his hand out to me yet again. I quickly slide my shirt over my head and remove my bra, immediately aware of how hard my nipples are and the ache building between my legs.

  I’m definitely feeling better.

  I climb in, my back to his front, the length of his arousal pressing firmly against my ass. The stream of water flows over my face, my breasts, my arms, warming me, but nothing like the warmth I feel when Rex snakes his arm around my belly, nuzzling his face in my neck. I rub my cheek against the rough stubble on his chin, instantly on fire, wanting that same sensation on the apex of my thighs.

  “Your skin is so smooth,” he says, but then throws me off with his next words. “Is this okay? Am I hurting your stomach?”

  “I’m fine. Your hands feel good,” I murmur, but feel deprived once he removes them. A minute later, they’re on me again, only this time in my hair, massaging shampoo into my scalp, goose bumps popping up all over my arms. “No one’s ever taken care of me like this before,” I say quietly, and his hands still.

  “No one?”

  “No one.” I don’t say anything else, I can’t. The spots flooding my vision make the memories hard to recall.

  Or at least, that’s what I tell myself.

  Rex cups my shoulders, spinning me around to face him. A mixture of dark and light dilutes the brown of his eyes as droplets of water drip down his face, his chin, over the defined muscles of his chest.

  “Let me… try?”

  The tenderness in his words melts some of the hurt away and my breath quivers, his desire to care for me tugging on battered yet vulnerable strings.

  “Tip your head back,” he urges, his fingers gently combing through my hair, rinsing the suds away.

  His gesture makes me feel like a child, but that child is long gone, only the shell of her remains. In her place stands a fiercely independent woman who tries her best not to need anyone. Although the face staring back at me when I raise my head causes doubt to skate across my mind.

  Rex takes the bar of soap and lathers up the washcloth. Beginning with the bend of my neck, he smoothes it over my skin, down the length of my arms, then back up again. He glides the cloth past the base of my throat, over the swell of my breast, sneaking his thumb underneath to caress my nipple. The tip beads up and I moan, the need for his mouth on me overwhelming. My bottom lip falls open, breathing accelerates, as he trails leisurely down my belly, skimming my waist, lowering to his knees to massage my legs. A noise escapes my throat when his lips replace the cloth, his tongue doing a painstakingly slow sail up my calf, along my knee, and when he reaches my thigh, I whimper his name.

  “Rex.”

  He peers up at me, his eyes the color of night. “Please, I need to taste you again.”

  The way he’s looking at me, the sweetness in his words, bring unshed emotion to the surface, making it impossible to do anything but nod my head in response.

  He smiles against me, the roughness of his cheek has me incredibly aroused, hot, wet. His nose rubs back and forth over the softness of my inner thigh, fingers sliding up my wet skin, teasing me, and my whole body hums with anticipation.

  I brace my palms flat against the tile wall before he hooks my leg over his shoulder, spreading me open. He dips a finger into my folds, drenched with want for him, and I moan loudly when his tongue finally lashes out, running through my wetness.

  “You like that?” He looks up at me, my arousal soaking his lips, taking away what I want most right now.

  “God, yes,” I pant, before his tongue lightly brushes my clit and I arch into him, wanting him deeper. Ripples of pleasure shoot through me, every movement, every flick of his tongue, making me delirious. I no longer feel the stream of water rushing over me, only the warmth of his breath, the softness of his tongue, the ferocity of his mouth, devouring me.

  My hands drag through his hair, clutching tightly, holding him against my sex as he delves further, exploring, sucking, teasing. He drives me crazy with desire, consumed with a need I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before. I only know it goes beyond sexual, and at that last thought, my mind dizzies when his finger joins his tongue, teasing my clit, and I’m lost.

  “Ahh….” My legs begin to quake as he increases the pressure of his tongue and I pulsate around him, sending me into the oblivion of the most amazing orgasm I’ve ever had. I think I actually see stars.

  As I float back down to the here and now, I’m vaguely aware of Rex’s mouth still on me. He doesn’t stop until I finally urge him back up, my hands gripping his shoulders.

  “I can’t get enough of you,” he murmurs, sliding his tongue across the seam of his lips. He leans forward, rubbing his wet, firm chest against my hardened nipples, reaching the tip of his tongue out to mine. I respond instantly, wrapping my arms around his neck, curling my fingers into his dark hair.

  Our tongues twine, breaths mingling in the most sensuous dance. I don’t want to pull away. And so I don’t. Instead, I hold on to him tighter, licking into his mouth, loving the way I taste on his tongue. He grinds his cock into me, now impossibly hard, and I want him inside of me.

  I can’t seem to get enough of him, either.

  “Jesus,” he rasps after he backs away from my lips, “I need to be inside you.” His voice cracks with a desperation I haven’t heard before, almost as if he needs this like he needs air to breathe.

  “I want that, too,” I murmur, and he gives me a quick kiss on the lips before he opens the shower door and heads straight for a drawer underneath the sink. I’m personally praying for a tower of condoms.

  When he pivots back around, all hotness, tattoos, and divine male, I watch him roll the condom on, inch by glorious inch, before stalking back to me.

  “How do you want me?” His eyes are piercing, and I feel as if that’s a very loaded question.

  “Every which way.” And there may be some hidden meaning in my statement that fortunately he doesn’t pick up on.

  “I think that can be arranged.” He lifts my leg under the knee, looping it around his back. Nudging my swollen entrance with the head of his cock, he eases in slowly. I lean back against the wall, moaning when he slides in all the way.

  “Fuck, you feel good, baby,” he growls, and there it is again. I know it doesn’t mean anything to him, but my stomach does a tiny flip when the word reaches my ears.

  I’m not sure what’s happened but something has definitely shifted. He continues to thrust into me with a punishing rhythm, all control seemingly gone, as though he needs to desperately wash away whatever is eating at him. He plunges deeper, lips seeking o
ut my neck, my ear, sucking on the skin, and I whimper when he takes my lobe between his teeth.

  “Come inside me, Rex,” I moan, and he hisses a loud breath, my nails digging into his shoulder blades as he pounds into me one final time. Tremors rack his body as his orgasm rips him apart, taking everything he has and giving it over to me. Whatever has him this rattled, I want to be able to carry it away, ease his pain, even if only for a little while.

  “Oh God,” he groans, burying his face in my neck, his heavy breaths blowing against my skin. His heart is racing in time with mine, each beat laced with emotion and pain, sorrow and regret.

  Invisible scars form a cloak around his body and when he lifts his head, lines of pain are etched across his skin. His gaze burrows into my thoughts, making me transparent, yet I see him so clearly it almost scares me—because I see myself.

  I frame his face with my hands, my thumbs doing a slow caress of his jaw. “I understand, and it’s okay.”

  Flecks of gold shine a light on the pain in his eyes as the air shifts between us, our stare intense, breathing erratic. His eyes close briefly and he drops his forehead to mine. “He kept telling me about her, but I didn’t listen,” he says, his voice a strained whimper, and I’m stunned into silence by his confession.

  I’m just about to say something when he pulls out of me abruptly, leaving me with a hollow feeling in my chest. Opening the glass door, he yanks a towel off the rack and wraps it around his waist. He walks out of the bathroom and I’m left standing here, unsure of what to do or say next. Fear sends my muscles into a temporary paralysis while my heart aches for him. Instinct tells me to reach out, to provide comfort, but the thought of being kept at arm’s length holds me back… again.

  My next movements are calculated as I figure out what to do. Slowly turning the knob, shutting the water off, stepping out of the shower, locating a towel. I peek out of the bathroom and see Rex sitting on the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, head in his hands. Heaving out a deep breath, I walk over and sit beside him, but say nothing.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you that,” he says, unable to look at me.

  “What? Why?” I fist my hands in my lap, fighting the urge to move closer and touch him.

  “I-I just… shouldn’t have.”

  My heart scrunches tight in my chest at the struggle in his voice and the battles he’s facing within. I can’t stay quiet. “Rex, I—”

  “Please,” he pleads, getting up, pacing the small space in front of the bed, “no fucking questions, I can’t talk about it. I won’t.” He grips the dresser with his back to me, chin down, blowing out a hard breath. “No one else knows. I’ve never told anyone. Not even Hunter.”

  Before I know what’s happening, he’s on me, pinning me to the bed. Both my hands are in his firm grasp, held above my head, his gaze burning into mine. “You’re unraveling me,” he admits, closing his eyes and shaking his head. A minute later, his eyelids flutter open and in an even quieter voice he says, “You’re fucking unraveling me.”

  He shakes his head again, his face set in a pained frown. Warm brown eyes scroll over my face and land on my lips, lingering there. He reaches out, the backs of his fingers brushing my cheek before he touches his mouth to mine. His tongue skips across my lips slowly, and I open for him as we join together in a brief dance, my heart stammering and doing a dance of its own—making me realize one glaring fact.

  I’m caught up in the web that is Rex Grayson.

  Our kiss becomes the slightest whisper against my lips and he backs away, clearing his throat. “I need to get to work.”

  He springs up and starts slamming drawers, pulling out his clothes. The air around us is so thick again I can practically feel it between my fingers. My body wants to stay rooted where it is, but my brain is telling me to go and let him have his space.

  I stand up and secure my towel before plodding to the bathroom. By the time I come back out, Rex is dressed and has his keys in hand. He gives me the once over before opening one of his drawers and tossing me a t-shirt.

  “Here, wear this if you want.”

  “Thanks.” I don’t say anything else. I’m completely at a loss for words. I hold my head up high, attempting to be the strong person I know that I am, but inside I’m crumbling. Outside, it’s even worse, I see little pieces of myself being scattered about the room. I wish I knew what he was thinking. What he was feeling. He just told me that I unravel him. Is that a good thing? I feel like it is, but his actions tell me otherwise.

  “So,” he stares down at the carpet, “I’ll talk to you later?”

  “Of course, yes.” I try to catch hold of his eyes but he’s averting my gaze.

  “If you could just lock up when you leave, that would be great.” He walks toward the living room, jingling his keys around his fingers.

  “Sure.”

  He’s almost to the door when I realize I can’t let him go just yet. I tear out of the bedroom, calling to him, my towel nearly falling to the ground in my haste.

  “Rex, wait!”

  He pauses with his hand on the knob, eyes fixed on the door. “Yeah?”

  “Thank you… for…,” I’m tripping over my words which is a first for me, “for last night, for… taking care of me.”

  Turning back, he finally meets my eyes. “It was nothing, really.” He shrugs, expelling a deep sigh. “You make it pretty easy.”

  And then he’s gone. Leaving me to wonder if I’m the one who’s unraveling.

  I’m sitting on a bench in Washington Square Park, arms folded across my chest, head tipped back, the sun beating down on my face. I don’t remember the last time I sat on a bench in a fucking park, but I had to leave my apartment. The desire to run was overpowering and I had to get away from her—from Vanessa.

  For whatever reason, she’s fucking with my head. Women have fucked with my head my entire life. But this is different. I can’t seem to stay away from her or stop thinking about her. Let’s be honest. The sex is fucking amazing, there’s no question. But it’s more than that. I may be an asshole, but I’m not a liar. Somehow, she’s reached into the core of who I am, pulling me up from the bowels of my shitty little life.

  I don’t know why I let that slip out in the shower. But there’s a relief flooding my chest that I’ve told someone—that I’ve told her. I’ve carried that burden for far too long; it has eaten away at my insides like a poison. Driven by guilt. Shame. Hatred. First, toward my mother and then toward myself. All the regret, the “if onlys” that whiz through my mind, burying me in a quicksand I can’t escape. Sinking deeper with no hope for ever getting out.

  I have secrets. Everybody does. But I know better than anyone how secrets can destroy everything and everyone around you. Hunter already blamed himself for too many years over Tyler’s death. As the oldest, he felt responsible, as if he could have prevented it or stopped it. When in reality, there is only one person who could have done that. Even the thought of my mother makes me want to spit the sour taste out of my mouth.

  My cell phone rings and I’m thankful for the interruption. I slide the screen and Hunter’s name appears. “Hey, bro, what’s up?”

  “Hey, you at work?” he inquires, and there’s the sound of rustling papers in the background.

  “No, I’m at the park.”

  “At the park? Since when do you go to the park?” he asks, now banging on the keys of his computer.

  “Listen, are you talking to me or are you typing?” I bite out.

  “You know how busy I am, Rex,” he says in a condescending tone.

  “Yes, we all know how busy you are. So, why are you calling me, then?”

  “Can you meet me at Tiffany’s on Wednesday morning?” And I can actually hear the smile in his voice.

  “Hunter, it’s Friday. That’s five days away, and why the hell would I want to do that anyway?” I tease.

  “Because Olivia’s ring will be ready then and I want you to see it before I propose. And I’m rem
inding you now because it’s on my mind. In fact, it’s the only thing on my mind.”

  “If I must,” I retort, smirking.

  “I can just see the wiseass grin on your face right now, little brother.” He muffles the phone, saying something to his secretary about a contract.

  I chuckle. “Yes, and you would be correct.”

  “All right, I have to run into a meeting. So I’ll see you Wednesday around ten thirty?”

  “Sure, see you then.”

  With my phone still in hand, I scroll through the list until I see Vanessa’s name. Still angry with myself for the way I left, an idea flashes in my head and I send her a text.

  Hope you’re feeling better. I’m sorry I left so fast. Maybe I can make it up to you tomorrow afternoon?

  When she doesn’t reply almost instantly, my stomach lurches with disappointment, and that’s exactly the same time I realize I need to snap the fuck out of this—whatever this is.

  I’m navigating my way through street vendors and hurried pedestrians when the smell of coffee hits my nose and lures me into a small café near the shop. As I’m waiting in line, my cell phone dings and I can’t help the fact that my lips twitch thinking it could be Vanessa. When I slide the screen open, the twitch turns into a full-blown smile.

  So much for snapping out of anything.

  Hey, was on the subway, and yes, I’m feeling better, thanks. What did you have in mind?

  I’m suddenly thankful I have the whole day off tomorrow. I type out a quick reply.

  I’ll let you know. I’ll text you the address.

  Oh. Sounds mysterious. Okay, I’ll talk to you later then. x

  I blink a couple of times at the letter X before I respond. What the hell does that mean?

  Okay, later, I type back. Without an X.

  I’m standing next to the huge stone pillars, just atop the long length of steps leading up to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. My cheeks feel like they’re going to burst from grinning so big. I might as well hold up a sign that says, I have this stupid smile on my face because I’m waiting for Rex Grayson. It’s that obvious.