“Pep, you know that, right?” His fingers weave into the hair at my neck.
I nod, still a little dumbfounded. There are no words for the sense of rightness burgeoning inside me. If we felt right before, his declaration, his plans, his dream of our future solidifies my absolute devotion to him and commitment to us. I can’t speak, so I lean into him, taking his lips between mine.
“Can I ask you another question?” he asks against my lips.
He’s melted me into a pile of gooey submission. I’d give him just about anything right now, so I nod.
“What’s your deal with Malcolm?”
I pull back to stare at him.
“Seriously, Rhys? That’s what you want to talk about now?”
“We have to.” He catches my chin and won’t let my eyes go. “We can’t talk about our future without talking about this deal. You collapsing, that can’t ever happen again. And I’m telling you Malcolm won’t change. He’ll keep pressing you and pushing you past your limits. He’ll disregard your health and well-being for his ends, and I can’t have it.”
He shakes his head.
“I won’t have it, Pep. He told me at the hospital that you’re locked into a bad deal with him. That for the next two years he owns you and there’s no way to get out of it.” The concern in his eyes unravels my defenses. “Is that true?”
I want to keep fighting on my own. To keep figuring things out for myself. It’s what I’ve always done, but it all feels so heavy right now. I can’t bring myself to tell him about the sex tape yet, but this I’ll hand over to him, if only to feel a few ounces lighter.
“I didn’t pay close enough attention.” I lower my eyes from his intense stare, embarrassed that I was so na?ve when he could have prevented this with half a glance at that contract. “There’s not even a buy-out option. If I refuse to work for him, I can’t work for anyone else for the next two years in anything related to entertainment. I can’t even record a jingle for a radio spot. If I do, he’ll literally get an injunction to shut it down. So I work for him or for no one.”
“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” He sucks his teeth, exasperated. “He was so smug thinking it’s all airtight.”
“It is airtight, Rhys.” I push the thick hair falling into his face back so I can see his eyes. “It’s my fault, and it’s okay. It’s just two years, and I—”
“I can get you out of it,” he cuts in, eyes alert on my face. “I don’t want to lie to you again. When you forgave me, we hit the reset button. Nothing but honesty between us going forward, right?”
The nasty memory of that tape intrudes between us, and he doesn’t even know it.
“Right,” I whisper, dropping my eyes. “Reset.”
“So I want to be up front and above board about this. I have a way to get you out of this contract. It isn’t conventional. It’s pretty ruthless, but it’s legal. I was so tempted to just do it, but I wanted you to know. I wanted you to have the choice this time.”
He lifts my chin, palm warm against my face.
“I’ll never go behind your back again.”
The memory of Malcolm’s condescending smugness sliming me onstage, his presumption of ownership, little girl-ing me stokes my anger.
“Do it.”
Rhyson blinks a few times, obviously surprised by my instant agreement.
“Do you even want to know what it is?” he asks.
“I trust you.” I shake my head. “Just get me out of it.”
“And then you’ll come home to Prodigy where you belong?” He scoops me into him, our naked bodies flush and warm, relief and happiness in his expression. “With me, where you belong?”
The intimate contact has me wanting him again, so I just nod numbly, ready to give him whatever he wants. A text alert from my phone shatters the intimate agreement building between us.
“Ignore it,” I say, leaning in to kiss hm.
The persistent alert sounds again.
“We should make sure it’s not Aunt Ruthie looking for us,” he says against my lips as the alert pings against my ears a third time.
“It’s gonna keep doing that,” Rhyson says between kisses. “I’ll silence it. Where’s your phone?”
“In the pocket of my jeans, I guess.” I turn onto my back, throwing my arm over my closed eyes. Whoever it is, they can forget about it.
“Be right back.”
I peek out from under my arm when he rolls off the mattress, striding naked over to the work table, reaching down to retrieve my phone from the puddle of denim our jeans make. He talks about my ass, but what about his? God, he’s gorgeous to me. Lean and tan and firm. The flex of muscles as he walks hypnotizes me. Every part of him hard and beautiful and mine as he walks back, frowning at the phone.
“Text from an unknown number.” Curiosity flecks his voice as he studies the screen. “We probably shouldn’t open it. Maybe a virus or something weird.”