San hands the keys to his shiny new Tahoe over to the valet. Steady work at Spotted is paying off. We’ve both moved up fast in the world. He’s even in a new apartment downtown, where I’m crashing for my one week off tour. I’ll figure out living arrangements when I’m done in another month. Maybe by then, I’ll have the whole video problem solved. Maybe by then I’ll have the whole Rhyson problem solved, too.
My problem is standing in the slab-stoned foyer where guests gather as they wait to be ushered into the backyard. Rhys wears a dark suit and a sky blue tie, eyes dark and intense and set on me, waiting for me. I could never forget the pewter eyes that barrel through my defenses, or the hair, dark but dappled with deep copper streaks, or the beautifully rugged symmetry of his features. I didn’t forget, but everything about him impacts me like it’s the first time, trapping the breath in my throat. Our eyes haven’t even met yet, and I already feel the tug of that chain. I was a fool to underestimate this pull. It’s only now that he’s within touching distance that I realize how foolish I was to think I could resist him.
He steps into my path so there’s no avoiding him, his eyes licking heat over my body in the periwinkle dress molding to my torso, clinging to my arms from shoulder to elbow, and belling out from my waist to stop just above my knees. For a moment, we just stare at one another, drinking in the details until I can’t take it another second and free my eyes from his, looking instead at the simple flats on my feet.
“Kai, hey.” He flicks a dismissive look at San by my side. “San.”
“Rhyson, good to see you.” San smirks, standing there when he knows good and doggone well Rhyson wants to talk to me alone. He just pokes Rhys sometimes to watch him jerk. Rhys levels an annoyed look at San.
“Dude, take a walk.”
San slides his glance to me, brows raised, silently asking me if it’s okay to leave.
“It’s fine.” I assure him with a smile. “I’ll catch up.”
San saunters off, finding someone I don’t know to chat with a few feet away, leaving Rhyson and me alone. The air charges with every breath we draw, both of us waiting for the other to speak. Rhyson finally goes first.
“I see you still have your guard dog.” He frowns over at San before returning his attention to me.
“We’ve been taking care of each other a long time.” I still don’t, can’t quite fully meet his eyes.
Whatever small talk I thought we might make disintegrates as soon as I brave a glance up at him. The space between our eyes, our bodies, pulses with tension and heat.
“Pep, you’ve got to stop looking at me like that,” Rhyson says, voice strung low and tight.
“Like what? I . . .”
He dips his head, looking up from beneath the dark brows in a way that tells me I know exactly how I’m looking at him. Like he’s a wall I want to scale and devour everything on the other side of. That’s how it feels, assaulting me without warning. The desire to reclaim, repossess him.
“You’re looking at me like you wanna get fucked in this foyer,” he answers softly.
His husky words set my cheeks on fire, and I lower my eyes so he won’t see just how accurate that statement is. Maybe a little time and distance dulled my memory of this connection that vibrates between us like a physical thing exploding onto my senses. Our passion sprinkles across my tongue. Our lust hovers like a torch just shy of my skin. Our love—an ultrasonic boom, out of frequency for everyone but the two of us.
“I-I guess I didn’t really think about how it would be seeing you again.” I glance up at him once I have my body set to simmer.
“And I haven’t been able to think of anything else.” His eyes never leave my face, and I can’t look away for the life of me. We’ve trapped each other, and less and less I want to wiggle free.
“It’s good to see you,” I manage.
“Is it?”
He takes my hand, pulling me subtly closer inch by inch. His thumb brushing over my wrist electrifies the skin, jolting me back to my surroundings. A glance around confirms that several people watch us closely, probably waiting for a replay of the last scene Rhyson and I entertained the world with. Is one of them keeping tabs on me for my blackmailer? Could one of them be . . . him? I jerk my hand away, slipping it into the slit pocket of my skirt.
Rhyson stiffens, eyes narrowing.
“So I can’t touch you now?”
“It’s not that.” I step back, allowing myself room to catch my breath and patch my composure back together. “Or maybe it is that, at least not in front of all these people itching to grab their camera phones.”
“You’re not leaving this wedding without talking to me.” He captures my eyes with his. “I can’t trust that you’ll answer my calls or text me back or see me, and you only have a week off tour.”
I glance uneasily at the clusters of wedding guests milling around the spacious foyer.
“I’m not sure, Rhys.”
“Well, I am, and I don’t care who hears or sees, so if you want to avoid attention, I suggest you listen.”
I don’t put it past him to make a scene. What if Drex isn’t working alone? Whoever sent that mock up knew I was coming to the wedding today. Somehow they know my schedule. The last thing I need is to tip off the crazy person holding that disgusting video over my head. I have to be careful.