by Kathy Love
The brunette cast a quick look at Jane, her eyes dropping for a fraction of a second to the faint mustard mark on her coat. Then she turned back to Rhys. She fished in the pocket of her fitted, leather jacket and pulled out a business card, holding out the small rectangle to him.
“If you ever want to get together.”
Jane knew she was probably doing a fair impression of a beached cod, her mouth gaping open, her eyes wide with shock. But she could not believe the woman’s audacity.
Jane quickly gathered her wits and moved closer to Rhys and linked her arm through his, silently letting this woman know that at least for tonight, Rhys was with her.
The woman ignored the hint. Not that Jane considered her actions a hint but rather more a flashing warning sign.
“Take it,” the brunette said, waving the card at Rhys again.
Jane had certainly never been possessive of a man, but she was darned if she was going to let this woman openly proposition him as if she didn’t even exist.
She reached forward and snatched the card out of the woman’s hand.
“Hey,” the brunette said, glaring at Jane.
“I’m sorry,” Jane said, forcing as much politeness into her voice as she could muster. “I guess you didn’t understand. But Rhys is mine.” Oh, my! Had she actually said that?
Instead of looking contrite or even irritated, the woman actually looked unconvinced, until Rhys said to her, “She’s quite right. I am completely hers.”
The woman paled. She snatched her card back, spun and left the shop.
But instead of feeling triumphant, Jane felt slightly ill again.
“Are you all right?” Rhys asked, leaning forward to look into her eyes.
“Can we go?” She wanted to get out of there-suddenly the air seemed too warm, and the smell of coffee was too cloying.
“Sure.” He continued to hold her arm as he led her to the doors.
As she breathed in the cold winter air, she realized something that was very, very frightening. She wanted Rhys to be hers-no matter their situation.
*
Christian stood in the shadows across the street, watching his brother and his mortal whore leave the trendy coffee bar. He’d known it was risky to approach the mortal with Rhys so close, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. He liked the thrill of getting so close to her. Although he didn’t understand why Rhys hadn’t sensed him. Christian hadn’t bothered to mask his energy. He hadn’t cared if Rhys saw him. He’d wanted Rhys to see him.
He wanted Rhys afraid. The time was long past due for Rhys to understand the fear of losing someone he cared for, that she could be taken, snatched away. And even if returned, she would never be the same.
Under the guise of doing the right thing and of protecting his family, Rhys had taken Lilah and returned a woman only half there, a woman never fully Christian’s again.
Christian watched as the couple disappeared down the bustling street, vanishing into the crowd.
“Now it’s my turn to return the favor, big brother,” Christian murmured under his breath.
*
Rhys glanced at Jane out of the corner of his eye. She hadn’t spoken since they left the shop, since the incident with the forward woman. She hadn’t even commented when they left the street to head into the park.
Of course, he had been quiet, too. Lost in his own thoughts.
Something had happened back there-something outside of the pushy, rude woman. He couldn’t quite figure it out, what exactly it had been, but while he was ordering Jane’s drink, he’d had the strangest sensation that she wasn’t safe. That something bad was about to happen. But when he’d finally been able to go to her, she’d been fine. Nothing out of the ordinary, other than the brunette.
He glanced at Jane again, and he smiled slightly to himself. She’d definitely been irritated by the aggressive woman.
“So, I’m yours, am I?” he asked, breaking the silence, his voice teasing, although he quite liked the idea of Jane being possessive.
Jane immediately blushed. “I–I just couldn’t believe that woman’s audacity.”
“So are you saying that you don’t really want me?”
She didn’t speak for a moment, keeping her attention focused on her feet. “I do want you.”
Rhys caught her wrist to pull her to a halt. He turned her to face him. “Why do you say it as though you think you should be ashamed?”
Her wide eyes met his, and he did see shame there. “Rhys, how you feel right now? It’s not real. It’s-it’s like we are both living in a fantasy world, and eventually reality is going to return. And I’m afraid of how you will feel when that happens.”
He frowned, confused and also a little upset. How could she think this was fantasy?
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “This is real. Now is real, and all the things I feel for you are very real.”
She looked down at the cup of tea that she’d barely drunk since they left the coffee shop. She fiddled with the edge of the plastic lid.
“You don’t know me,” she said slowly. “Not really. And maybe-maybe once you do you won’t want-you might decide I’m not what you want.”
“You’ve said that before, after we made love. That I don’t know you. And I suppose that is true, that we haven’t had long together, to get to know everything about each other. But what I do know, I want.”
Her eyes stared into his, almost pleading. “But you may not later-and I don’t know if I can risk that.”
“It isn’t possible for me to stop wanting you. I’ve waited a long time to feel this way. I can’t tell you how I know, but I do know this feeling will never leave my system. You will never leave it.”
She continued to stare up at him. The shame had disappeared, but now it was exchanged for longing. She still didn’t believe him, but she wanted to.
And she would.
He pulled her against him, his mouth finding hers. He intended for the kiss to be persuasive, a sweet lulling caress that would calm her doubts.
But as soon as he tasted the velvety texture of her lips, clinging hungrily to his, all thoughts of coaxing were gone.
He wanted her.
Need tore through his veins, urging him to deepen the kiss. She responded, opening to him, giving him access to the sweet moisture of her mouth.
Sweet moisture.
He groaned as her tongue touched his, a fleeting brush. A tiny taste.
Just a tiny taste.
He nipped at her bottom lip, the flesh fragile and sensitive. His teeth sank just a little harder into the pillowy softness. Pink and warm and so, so sweet.
Jane gasped, and Rhys immediately released her.
He stared down at her, his chest heaving, as he realized that his hunger for her had so easily spun out of control. By a mere kiss.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed.
She shook her head, looking as dazed as he felt. “No, it was…” The tip of her tongue touched her lower lip, making it glisten in the lamplight. Red and shiny.
His stare locked there for several seconds before his stunned mind registered what he was looking at-she was bleeding.
“Jane,” he said, alarm chilling the desire in his limbs. “Damn.” He reached for her, his fingers nudging her chin up to get a better look at what he’d done.
Jane frowned. “What?”
“Your lip is bleeding. I must have bitten you.”
She brought her hand up to touch her mouth. Her fingers looked very pale, small and elegant, brushing over the reddened skin.
She frowned down at her fingertips, then showed them to him with a reassuring smile. “Barely a nick.”
He stared at the faint crimson smear on her fore and index fingers. Revulsion filled him. How had he lost control like that? He’d never intended to hurt her. Never.
“I’m fine,” she told him. “Please stop looking at me like you’ve mortally injured me. I didn’t even notice until you pointed it out.”
“But
you gasped.”
She smiled again, this time sheepishly. Her cheeks reddened to nearly the same color as her lips. “Only because-because I was feeling-overcome.”
He peered into her green eyes. The darkness of the night and the shadows of the trees surrounding them couldn’t dull the vividness of their color.
But even though she gave him another encouraging smile, he couldn’t let go of the irritation he felt with himself.
“Maybe we should go back.”
She hesitated, and for a moment he thought that she was going to say something, but then she simply nodded, falling into step beside him.
On their quiet walk back to the club, Jane’s mind raced. She felt confused, scared and exhilarated all at once. But Rhys had that effect on her, a way of making her feel more than she ever knew she could. He made her feel more alive. More aroused. More beautiful.
And that kiss. She released a shaky breath. That kiss had been like being tossed, head first, into a sea of unadulterated passion.
When he had tasted her, nipped her… She’d felt his desire throughout her entire body. She had felt him inside her as surely as she had when they had made love.
How could she feel all of that from just a kiss?
Granted, Rhys really knew how to kiss. Even now, her toes curled in her scuffed oxfords.
But her rational mind reminded her that she needed to try and remain distanced from him. She needed to remember that they didn’t really know each other. That she needed to wait.
But her heart told her that between his sweetness, his wonderful smile and his gorgeous eyes, she was already lost. She was already crazy about him, and no amount of repeated warnings and logical reminders could keep her from this man.
The boom of bass brought her out of her reverie. She was surprised to see they were back at the club.
Now a long line of eccentric-looking patrons waited to get inside. Rhys didn’t even look at them. He, too, seemed lost in his own thoughts, and from the serious look on his face, they didn’t appear to be particularly nice ones.
They headed down the alley, and he knocked hard on the steel door. After a few moments, she heard the series of locks click, and Mick opened the door. He stood back to let them enter. The fluorescent light reflecting off his bald head was the only hint of animation on the huge man’s features.
Rhys nodded his Thanks at the man, but didn’t speak either. He led her to the elevator.
As before he held the grate and waited for her to enter. She did, standing in the center of the elevator.
He dropped the grate and pushed the button marked with a four.
Jane turned slightly, so she could look at him, his lean, muscled body, his beautiful face.
She remembered what she’d thought about him, when she’d first seen him, sitting on that bar stool next to her. He was a heartbreaker.
He still could be, her head warned her. And it could be your heart that he breaks.
He suddenly turned his head. His eyes like pools of molten amber locked with hers, pulling her into their heat.
It’s too late, her heart told her. You are already in too deep.
“I want to sleep with you tonight,” she said, and her heart gave a triumphant punch in the air.
CHAPTER 15
Rhys didn’t quite believe he heard her correctly. But then she stepped toward him and touched his face. Her fingers caressed his jawline, tracing upward until they sank into his hair, gently brushing the long strands back from his cheek. The touch was both comforting and arousing all at once.
He closed his eyes and swallowed. Her gentle caress was exactly the touch he had been craving for so, so long. The grazing of her fingers over his skin, through his hair, loosened something coiled tight inside him. Something that he didn’t even know was twisted, twisted so tight that it threatened to suffocate him.
“Jane, are you sure?” He didn’t think he could handle it if she changed her mind again. “If you come to bed with me tonight, you are staying there. Every night.”
Her hand paused, the pads of her fingers soft against his cheekbone. She stared into his eyes, her irises as green as new grass. “Yes. I’ll stay as long as you want me.”
Why did she still doubt him? Doubt his need for her? A need he knew he would have forever.
Forever.
The word echoed in his mind. Could he ask that of her? If he had it to offer…
Her fingers moved again, drawing his attention back to her eyes, her pale skin, her pink lips. She threaded her hand into his hair, cupping the back of his head, and drew him to her, rising up on her toes to meet him. Those beautiful lips brushed over his jaw, inching upward, tasting him, adoring him-until they were pressed fully to his.
He was lost.
No, he had been lost, and now he was found. He didn’t understand where he’d been, but it didn’t matter. In Jane’s arms, he had sanctuary. He felt alive and whole, safe from the shadows and darkness…
Her tongue traced the seam of his lips, shy and fleeting, asking to taste him.
He moaned. Damn, her sweetness was enough to kill him. Death. Maybe this was what that mysterious entity felt like-like falling straight into heaven.
Yes, Jane was heaven. As close as he’d ever get.
He moved his hands up to cup her face, to hold her there, although she showed no signs of moving away.
Their lips continued to caress, velvet against velvet. Their breaths mingled, hot and moist. Their tongues touched, brief licks of fire.
Nothing but their mouths moved. Even their hands, holding each other, remained motionless as if neither one wanted anything to compete with the absoluteness of this kiss.
Rhys knew that the elevator had shuddered to a stop long ago, but still he couldn’t bring himself to release her. Afraid if he did, the moment would end. She would disappear.
But finally, Jane broke the kiss, looking up at him, her lids heavy with desire. “Oh, my.”
He smiled. “I plan to make sure I hear that several more times tonight.”
He brushed a thumb along the fullness of her lower lip and the tiny cut there from earlier, before he dropped his hands from her cheeks and turned to open the elevator.
Then he reached back and took her hand, her small, slender fingers linking between each of his.
They headed through the apartment straight to the hallway and their rooms.
Outside his bedroom, Rhys stopped and turned to face Jane. “Are you absolutely sure.” He had to ask one more time, because if she said yes, he didn’t plan to ever let her go again.
She nodded, a firm bob of her head, nothing like the uncertain shakes he’d seen before.
Relief filled his chest, and he opened the door, waiting for her to enter first.
Once she was inside the room, she stood there, her back to him as if she was uncertain what to do next.
He walked up behind her, circling his arm around her waist, although the thickness of her coat made it hard to tell exactly where he held her.
“Let’s get rid of this,” he murmured as he tugged at the zipper. The coat parted, and he slid the puffy armor off her shoulders and tossed it onto a chair in the corner. He took off his own jacket, also throwing it onto the chair.
His arms returned to her waist, only to discover the sweater she had on underneath the coat was equally bulky, still disguising her curves. Slipping his hands under the heavy knit, he felt her heat, although through the thin cotton shirt she wore beneath the sweater.
“I’m glad we aren’t playing strip poker,” he murmured, leaning down to nuzzle her neck.
She tilted her head to give him better access.
“Why?” Her voice was a mixture of confusion and breathiness as he kissed the silky skin just below her jawline.
“Because we’d have to play into the wee hours of the night to get you out of all these clothes.” He tugged at the shirt under the sweater.
“Oh. Yes,” she breathed as he kissed her neck again. “No strip poker.
”
He smiled against her skin, breathing in her wonderful scent, flowery and warm.
Beneath the sweater, his hands skimmed up over her stomach, the crisp cotton smooth under his fingers. But not nearly as smooth as he knew the skin underneath was. He stopped just under the curve of her breasts.
“Should we take this sweater off?”
“Yes.” Her voice trembled with need.
He slowly ran his hands up her sides, feeling the delicate ridges of her rib cage. She wiggled and laughed slightly when his hands reached her underarms. But she readily raised her arms, so he could peel the sweater off over her head. The article of clothing joined their coats.
He returned his hands to her waist, guiding her around to face him. She gazed up at him, her eyes full of desirous expectation.
He kissed her, promising her satisfaction, but then straightened again and began to work on the small buttons of her white cotton shirt, taking his time. Their anticipation mingled in the air around them as the flick of each button revealed more of her milky white skin.
Her shirt finally fell open to reveal lace, pale yellow like wispy sunlight, covering her breasts.
His fingers trembled as he cupped her. She even felt like sunshine, golden warmth heating his hands.
Another breathy gasp escaped her, and she pressed against his hands, willingly giving him what he wanted.
His thumbs rubbed over her nipples. They responded immediately, prodding the pads of his thumbs.
As he teased her breasts, his mouth found the side of her neck, trailing kisses downward over her chest until he reached the peak of one breast, straining against the filmy veil of sunbeams.
He pulled the beaded nipple into his mouth, suckling her, drinking in her warmth and the shudder of her reaction.
Her fingers dug into his shoulders, anchoring herself.
His mouth traveled across the shallow valley to her other breast. He grazed his teeth over the silky flesh, and her hands tangled in his hair, holding him closer. Begging for more.
He gave it to her, drawing her other nipple between his lips, abrading the hardened nub gently with his teeth.
She gasped. “Rhys,” she whispered, his name a plea and a demand.
