Whisper (The Voice trilogy Book 1)

by Noelle Bodhaine

  “Breaking the rules is part of the fun, Sophie.”

  “I could use a bit of fun.” Which is a massive understatement, as reflected in my now damp panties. God knows the last time a man touched me in a gentle way is far beyond the reach of my memory. The thought of his deft hands traveling over my skin, his hard body pressed against mine. There are a million reasons to say no. I don’t know this man. I am not generally so forward or casual about sex. But one good reason shines above all, screaming, YES, to the heavens. I want to. With every fiber of my being, every inch of my skin, I want it. Ramifications be damned. I will be gone before we get too close, I won’t allow myself to get hurt. “What exactly are you suggesting?” His eyes light up and he leans forwards, resting his elbows on the desk, a wide grin pulling at his perfectly full lips.

  “You just agree to spend the night with me and leave the rest up to me.” He leans back again, pleased with himself, crossing his legs. “I think that’s what I need. You definitely need it.” I am tripped up by his casual declaration that all I have to do is show up, like a prop. Immediately a chip of doubt erodes on my shoulder. What am I getting myself into?

  “Leave it all up to you?” The first chill of warning trickles down my spine, like ice water, cooling the fire he just lit. I will not relinquish control to anyone, much less a man I have just met. I will never make that mistake again.

  “I will have my way with you, Sophie. You just let me take care of you, and trust that I know what you need. I know what I like, Sophie. Do you?” I suppose I should steel myself for more of these probing, personal questions, but it suddenly feels invasive. How dare he insinuate that I don’t know what I like. Do I know what I like? I know I don’t like to be used. I know I don’t like to be hit. I know I have never been able to explore what I like because I have always been so hell bent on pleasing someone else. So deathly afraid to recognize, or put into words the things that my body calls for deep in my dreams, for fear of ridicule and shame. And with that thought I know I will do it. I know that I will be safe, he can’t hurt me, I won’t let him.

  “I want you, and I promise I will make you forget all about him. Trust me, give yourself to me, we would be amazing together, I can feel it.” I pick my jaw up off the ground before I can form a solid thought. Give yourself to me? What is this an old Dracula movie?

  “So, I am to be added to your collection?”

  “No, I don’t believe that you belong in a collection, Sophie. You are a treasure unto yourself, unparalleled.” A giggle escapes my throat before I can catch it. Such a seedy proposal crossing sweet lips is surely an anomaly. He frowns and waits for an explanation.

  “You make it sound like I am giving you some sort of gift. I don’t know that I can give myself to you, to anyone.” The crack in my voice betrays the calm I try to exude. Control is something I have fought tooth and nail for recently. The thought of handing myself over makes my blood run cold. Yet, in his eyes, the way he looks at me, I want to believe that I can handle this. There is nothing resembling calm running through my body. My mind breaks into a sprint, unsure of my capacity to trust. But Rhys’ intense glare grips me and demands an answer. I am exasperated, insulted, intrigued. Frightened and exhilarated. It is a heady cocktail of conflict, wanting to be with him so badly I can almost feel his hands skating across my skin and being frightened by the prospect of what he has in mind.

  “You are a gift, Sophie. I cannot wait to watch you come undone. I cannot wait until you give yourself to me. And you will, because deep down, you want to. It is written all over your body.” He licks his bottom lip and it rings deep in my belly. “I thought you may react this way, which makes the prospect all the more delectable. Don’t say a word. Let me escort you to the dinner tonight and we will see what happens.”

  “Dinner?” Why is my mind so many beats behind? Catch up!

  “Yes, dinner. We all need to eat.” He winks and his lopsided, panty busting grin leaves me no choice. I would gladly let him to take me anywhere, no questions and no clothing necessary. He is like a controlled substance, slowly building in my veins, a lingering high that keeps my mind high above reality. The pain that this man must cause will surely be exquisite, the implied ecstasy worth every moment of impending agony.

  Chapter 7

  We arrive back at the hotel just as the sky begins to blush, the sun going down, hovering on her horizon, teasing the edges of the day. The elevator ride is quiet and charged, like two teenagers shy and anxious, anticipation stretched between us, quieting the verbal back and forth. Rhys is careful not to touch me, his hands firmly in his pockets. He just grins and winks as the car comes to rest on the sixteenth floor. I turn to him before I exit the elevator. Holding the door open he backs me against the wall and leans in. Flecks of gold sparkle in his eyes, captivating my attention, his breathing is even and controlled, his face soft.

  “I will be down in two hours to collect you. Think about it.” He softly brushes a rogue curl from my face, the back of his fingers leaving a trail of heat across my cheek. He pulls his arm back and retreats into the elevator, the doors closing on his crooked smile and my frozen form. How could I not think about it, his tongue and lips all over my body? My aching skin, begging for his attention, whimpering, begging, it is all I can think about.

  A cold shower, a good all over buffing, and I am alert and excited, yet completely unprepared. Rhys’ mysterious draconian offer swims through the muck that has mired my mind for longer than I can remember. His offer rings on high, louder than any other thought in my head. The echoes of his silky voice drown out my questions and doubt. I rub at my scalp with a fluffy white towel when I hear a knock on the door. My heart takes off and I search for a clock. How long was I in the shower?

  “Sophie, are you here?” Olivia’s voice crosses the door as she knocks again. I let her in and she makes herself comfortable on the bed, watching me towel my hair and lay out my clothing for the evening.

  “Sophie, I am so sorry we haven’t had more time together. I miss you.” A pout on her full lips makes me grin. Her pout is potent and practically irresistible.

  “Liv, it is fine. I have kept busy. I am really sorry for ducking out on the festivities last night. It was getting a little too hot in there.”

  “Oh. Please. I’m sure it got much worse after I left. Fortunately, Matthew showed up and swept me away. Some of those girls are wild, to say the least, fuzzy boundaries and all that sort of stuff.” She waves her hand about, dismissing the ‘stuff’ like yesterday’s news. My curiosity is peaked, what is the ‘stuff’?

  “I tried texting you after we picked up my parents. Where have you been all day?” I flash back to my phone in pieces on Rhys’ desk. Shit!

  “I was with Rhys.” I peek out from under the towel to read a shocked face.

  “What?”

  “Is that so strange?” It stings to hear my own doubt reflected back through her shock. Olivia bounds from the bed and has her arms around me in a moment, pulling me into a hug.

  “Oh, sweetie, it’s not. It’s just that Matthew said there was some emergency that took him from the bachelor party. He was supposed to go back to New York last night. I thought he would be gone until tomorrow.”

  “Well, he was here last night.” Liv releases me and fiddles with my party clothes, fluffing the skirt and smoothing the shiny taffeta. I chose the outfit in her honor, a pale green taffeta skirt with a high waist and pockets (a must) and a tiny white tank. I know how much she always wants to glam me up. ‘Put on a party dress and slap some makeup on that face girl, we are going out!’ is a tag line she should trademark.

  “I know he has been working on something big, but Matthew said that it is falling apart. He is always working.” I reflect back on the powerful man surrounded by talking heads, watching me like prey from his leather throne in the Admirals Lounge.

  “Maybe it is resolved.” I can feel unanswered questions crawling up my back, tapping my shoulder, prying at Pandora’s box of insecurities
and self-doubt.

  “Maybe. But, who cares. What is going on between you two?” Her eyes shine with anticipation, hungry for details.

  “I don’t know. I mean, nothing. We talked for a long time, and he slept here.” I look to her for insight, but she offers none, hanging on my words waiting for a juicy tidbit to slip out. I hold back the details she so desperately wants. “I woke up this morning and he was gone, but he left me this note.” I toss the note into her lap and walk into the bathroom. “He took me for Cuban coffee and pastries this morning and then to his family’s house to see all the wedding stuff. Olivia it is so beautiful.” Seeking a reaction and still getting none, I continue. “Then he said he wanted to spend the night with me and offered to escort me to dinner tonight.”

  “Huh?” Her face twists in question. Little does she know the true extent of his proposal, or of my almost complete surrender.

  “Yeah, huh? He actually said ‘give yourself to me!’ Can you believe that?” It is clear by her avoidance and wide eyes that she knows exactly what he means. But she shies away, a conspicuous non- reaction on her face.

  “He must like you,” her answer so matter of fact yet, childish and unsatisfying. It’s clear that she is holding back, there has to be more. I know he wants me, he said it plain as day, but what is he expecting?

  “Liv, tell me what I am getting myself into.” Reluctantly, she takes a seat next to me on the bed. She grabs my hands and squeezes before releasing a long, heavy sigh. The struggle in her eyes is evident. I know she wants to protect me, not let me wander into the dragon’s den. And men like that don’t just randomly take interest in women completely against type. It is not in the nature of man to stray from what he knows and craves. I just hope he doesn’t eat me for dinner.

  “Powerful men like simple women, Sophie, receptive to their whims, willing and eager to do anything. Someone who won’t complicate their lives. Rhys is no different. Just don’t get too attached and you will be fine.”

  “Is that how you and Matthew are, Liv.” She smiles, shaking her head.

  “All men have a type and Rhys is no exception. He usually has a beauty on his arm, I won’t lie. But I have never seen him with the same girl twice, with one exception.” Her emphasis hangs, mingling with Rhys’ earlier confession. A confession I thought to be a gimmick or a ploy. “And he has been pseudo single as long as I have known him.” He likes the type of girl that I am not, I am a good girl. He said it himself. Why do I suddenly feel like the butt of a bad joke?

  “Pseudo single, what does that mean?” She shrugs me off with a lofty wave of her perfectly manicured fingers.

  “You know, single and playing the game, but totally unavailable.”

  “I don’t know about this.” The more she doesn’t say, the more spooked I become. Simple women, this is not a phrase I am comfortable with, I am not simple, nor will I allow him to belittle me like that. I want this, but can I handle it? I am beginning to doubt my ability to keep up with him, to please him. Not to humiliate myself.

  “Do you like him, Sophie?” What a simple question. He is gorgeous, clever, mysterious and rich. How could I not like him? Like is not the right word. I want him, deep in my soul and far in the back of my mind. I ache for him. No. Like is not the right word at all. She has volunteered so much, yet revealed nothing. I still have no idea what it really means, or what he really wants or expects from me. I could never give myself to anyone. I have never been that kind of girl. My soul stirs and twists, the effect that Rhys has over me could be very hard to resist. Already he flows in my blood. What has he given up? And what has driven him back to his mystery vice?

  “It’s one night, what could it hurt?” She turns to me with a bit of worry in her brow. “Just don’t let things get awkward.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, if you sleep with him tonight don’t expect anything from him tomorrow. He can be cold like that. I have seen it. And although I love Rhys, I love you more and I don’t want to see you get hurt.” Running the straight iron down my hair, she pauses, and pins me with her gaze in the mirror. “And, not to sound selfish, but I don’t want it to affect my wedding. I mean, it is my special day.”

  “I won’t get hurt. I am a big girl, I can separate things. Besides, I’m only here for you, Liv. Whatever it is, it’s temporary. I’m sure that he just wants to use me like a rag doll, not that I am wholly opposed to the idea, but still. He is an addictive man, I have barely spent any time with him and already he is under my skin, and in my head. I swear sometimes he can see right through me. He is dangerous, I can tell.”

  “Sophie, this could be good for you, let loose for a change, take a risk. Don’t deny yourself the opportunity to do something new, out of fear. You can’t use your parents as an excuse forever. You have to live your life. Live it, don’t just endure it, you deserve so much more than you have allowed yourself.” I know that she is right. I know that I should let loose, follow my instincts, and stop being scared of my own shadow. Stop being afraid of what could happen.

  Unsatisfied and frustrated by the lack of illumination, I change the subject, asking about last minute wedding prep. It does the trick and we relax back into old friend skin easily.

  She helps me get ready, like a big sister coaching the little on the expectations of a first date. I feel like a little girl, full of butterflies and fear. But this is no ordinary dinner date. I want to probe her about his pseudo single past, the beauty in the picture perhaps, but think better of it. All he has shown of himself seems in complete contrast to the whisperings of the women around him. I chose to let him reveal himself. Listening to them, one would surmise that Rhys was a sexual predator. One they would willingly surrender to, some of them over and over again. And he is coming for you! I push the fear aside and resolve to just be. I think back on that last night in my room and his musings on first impressions. Yes. I will allow him to make his own impression upon me. And with that, I banish the chatter and suspicions to the furthest dark room in the back of my mind and lock the door. Olivia finishes putting the final touches on my hair and pinches my cheeks before she is gone and I am left alone with the sound of my pounding heart, and a beautiful stranger in the mirror.

  I smooth my full skirt, fluff my breasts and check my reflection. If I hadn’t watched the transformation I wouldn’t believe that was me staring back from the mirror. My hair is sleek, straightened by Liv, an asymmetrical curtain, teasing my bare shoulders. Make-up light and natural, an argument hard fought and won. I look down at my legs to my poor, poor feet, in sky-high, nude Loubitons. Olivia insisted that I borrow them. They are spectacular, and make the outfit, but whether or not I will be able to walk anywhere is another issue. I twist and turn in the mirror, admiring the sexy woman I see before me, wondering where she has been all my life, when a knock at the door bowls me over. My pulse breaks from the gate at full speed and I have to remind myself to breath.

  He stands before me, one perfect gardenia blossom rolling between his fingers, my favorite flower. The scent swirls around us both, twisting and tightening, pulling us together. He shines in his pale, crisp shirt and slacks, like an angel, freshly fallen. His grin sideways and wicked betrays that devil within. His eyes wash over me, heating every inch of exposed flesh, taking in the sight of the stranger from the mirror. Voices in the hallway distract us both as Melissa and Kylie are also set out for dinner. His smile straightens as he steps forward, casually closing the door behind him with a tap of his foot, while they crane their necks for one last peek. I am sure the sighting will not go unnoticed.

  “You look beautiful, Sophie.” His voice is hungry and low, bringing me back to the moment, back to him. He brushes my hair back and tucks the gardenia behind my ear before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath from the flower. I catch myself closing my eyes along with him, letting his scent flood my nostrils, citrus and musk and gardenia. They complement each other nicely, strong and soft, heavenly and earthly. I feel his hand leave my hair be
fore I open my eyes. His grin turned to amusement.

  “We are quite a pair,” he says, spinning me around to the mirror, he stands behind me with his hands resting on my bare shoulders. I think I may melt from the casual contact, when I see what he sees. His pale green button down linen shirt mirrors the shade of my skirt. I can’t help but smile and reflect back on the couples Olivia and I used to see at the country club we worked at when we were young. They would match their golf outfits, shoes, club covers, visors and all, even the pom-poms on their socks. We would call them “Biff and Buffy” collectively, and always promised to never let one another fall into such a situation. At this point I would gladly don a silly visor and pom-pom socks if it meant I could remain one half of the pair I see reflected back at me.

  The woman in the mirror is put together, confident and lovely under the warm gaze of such a potent masculine man. His hands rest gently on my shoulders, while the rest of my body tightens and twists, humming with anticipation. He is calm and cool, smiling at me through the mirror. His thumbs caress the base of my neck before he slowly slides his warm hands down the length of my arms, leaving a telling trail of goose bumps. A naughty grin arises on his face and he swats my behind, stepping away from the mirror and towards the mini bar.

  “Let’s have a toast, shall we?” Not waiting for an answer, he pulls a bottle of white wine from the mini bar. The vibration from his gentle tap rolls through me in waves. He hands me a glass and holds his aloft, humor bubbling at the surface of his carefully manicured façade. He flashes a wolfish grin. “Here is to breaking the rules,” I scoff; he grins and clinks my glass. The words echo in my head. The wine does little to cool the fire that is smoldering deep within me. Every trivial thing that the man does chips away at the walls I have built. Walls I prefer to hide behind. I like to keep a comfortable distance, but he inches closer to me with every breath. Can I do this? Do I want to do this? YES!