Saorsa Page 12

  “Okay.” I nod, not giving her any more than that, then I pull out the handle of my suitcase. “We’d better get going.”

  It takes me less time than I thought to unpack my clothes and then take a quick shower. I’m dressed down and leave my hair tousled and my face free of any makeup. I know it’s stupid, but since he literally let my hair down the other night, I’ve been seeing myself in a new light. He always looks so relaxed and I always look so—me. I feel the need to show him how I look when I’m not being Charlotte the businesswoman. I don’t switch her off nearly as often as I should and it’s something I need to do more. If that turns him off, better now than later.

  I find myself staring down at my phone. I want to text him, I need to text him. But I’m so unsure. Do I want him coming to my place? I don’t trust myself this close to a bed with him.

  Me: Hey.

  I’m such an idiot, who says just ‘hey’? Dumbass.

  Rhys: Hey yourself.

  Me: I’m all finished here. What time are you free?

  Rhys: I’ve just been sitting around waiting for your message, kitten. What’s your address?

  Me: How about we meet at St. Paul’s?

  Rhys: Our bench?

  I smile at my phone feeling goose bumps scatter across my arms. He remembers where we saw each other outside of the church.

  Me: Yes, perfect. Say thirty minutes?

  Rhys: I’ll be there.

  Twenty minutes later, I reach Festival Gardens and follow the meandering path through the matured trees. I reach the freshly mowed yard to the rear of the cathedral and find that luck is on my side. I can see from here our spot is open. I check the time and still have a few minutes to spare, so I head over to claim the bench before anyone else can. I have a clear view both ways of the path that circles the church, but since I don’t know which direction to expect him from, I just people watch.

  Without warning, hands come from behind me and cover my eyes. I gasp and tense, ready for a fight or flight situation.

  “Hello, kitten.”

  “Rhys.” His name slips out on a sigh and I feel my skin heat with the humiliation of how I sound.

  He chuckles and removes his hands from my eyes, brushing his knuckles down my face and tilting my head back. I look up into his grinning up-side-down face and he leans over me pressing a kiss to my lips. I’m flooded with a warm feeling pumping through my veins.

  Just as quick he pulls away and comes around to the front of the bench.

  Wow. He looks so effortless. Dressed all in distressed black which sets off his ink perfectly, I’m happy I made the considerable effort to dress down. I feel like I don’t stand out as much.

  Rhys holds out a hand and I take it. He leans in and kisses my cheek when I stand, then looks me over, skimming over my flowing hair with appreciation in his eyes. Score one for the relaxed look.

  “What would you like to eat, kitten?”

  “I could go for something simple like a burger.”

  “There’s a place right around the corner that’s good.” He slips his hand in mine and we set off on a stroll through the churchyard and out onto the street. There is something liberating about walking with him and feeling so relaxed, taking our time down a street I’m now used to beating in heels and a pencil skirt, walking at pace with the hustling, bustling business crowd. I feel so free.

  He catches me staring down at our joined hands and I feel the need to explain myself. “This is weird, isn’t it?”

  “What is?” He frowns.

  “This.” I lift our hands to illustrate my point.

  “Why do you say that? It’s normal. When two people like each other they show it.”

  I resist the urge to snort. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t dated for a long time.” As we approach the restaurant, a recollection hits me. “Oh! I think I've eaten here before. Well, not here, but this chain. Louise, my best friend, took me a couple of years back on a visit. It was amazing.”

  “I’m glad you think so. It’s one of my favorites.” Rhys opens the door for me and ushers me inside. We’re seated at a booth in a corner, and our drink order is taken. He glances at the menu and sets it aside. “So why haven’t you dated?” he asks, casually picking up the conversation I'd hoped was dropped.

  I don’t need to look at the menu. I order the same type of burger no matter where I go. So I fold my hands on the table and look into the sea of blue open to hearing all my secrets. I just don’t know if I want to relive them with him.

  “I was too busy running my old company to enjoy anything but seeing it grow and succeed.” Each time I say it, it gets a little bit easier to let it go.

  “Ahh a workaholic.” His eyes are filled with understanding. “I get it.”

  He chuckles, reaching out to put his hand on mine. “I didn’t make it to my thirties, single, by living the party life.”

  “So you’re a workaholic too?” I ask with hope in my words.

  “I was,” he says simply, and I feel like there is more to that story, but I find I’m more intrigued by his single status.

  “So you have never been married?”

  He barks out a laugh. “No, and before you ask, I’ve never been engaged either.”

  “I wasn’t going to ask, but thank you for the information. Unattainable?”

  “Not necessarily.” His thumb rubs the top of my hand and I have to shut out the scorching sensation it leaves, to hold onto the thread of our conversation.

  “You aren’t missing much,” I say, my tone dry.

  “Marriage didn’t agree with you?” He raises an eyebrow.

  “I’m divorced, so I would have to say it did not.” Somehow talking about my marriage doesn’t really hurt as much as it did in the beginning.

  He holds up both hands. “I don’t want to pry.”

  I tilt my head studying his eyes, they are filled with sincerity and not pity. “You’re not prying. I’m an open book.”

  Thankfully the waiter comes and takes our order, now would be the perfect time to change the subject.

  “So you were a workaholic—but you aren’t anymore?” I ask the minute the waiter leaves, hoping to take the focus off my failed marriage.

  “I used to put work before everything. Family, love, health, happiness. I don’t think I even knew what happiness was if it wasn’t associated with profit or success.”

  I raise my eyes heavenward. Thank God. He really does get it.

  “Then I had an epiphany,” he continues. “And it changed my way of thinking.” He sits back in the booth, a serious look on his face. “Are you still that way?” He now has a slight frown on his face.

  “No, that’s one of the reasons why I moved here. I wouldn’t say I had an epiphany as such. It was more of a gradual awakening. Starting fresh, breaking bad habits and all that,” I say with a flair of my hand. “It was time for me to cut ties and find what was missing in my life.”

  “And what is that, kitten?”

  “When I find it, I’ll let you know.”

  Rhys smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s important that you do. Life is too short to waste it working your life away.”

  “Sounds like you learned that lesson the hard way.”

  “Yeah, I was brought up thinking that money is everything. Build your empire first, my Pop would say. Everything comes to you when you have money.”

  “I grew up poor and used to think that if I had money everything would be sunshine and rainbows. Now I have money and I find I am still in search of my rainbow, only it’s not a pot of gold I want to find at the end.”

  He raises his glass. “Cheers to that, kitten.”

  The waiter comes back and places our plates down before us and the conversation as we eat is lighter and flirty. I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is about Rhys, but he makes me want him, it’s something I can’t control. Truth be told it’s terrifying. But, I’m sick and tired of always playing it safe. The waiter comes and takes our plates away and Rhys pays the
bill quickly and with no fanfare. Normally, I would insist on paying at least my share, but I decide not to fight him. I’m going to pick my battles with Rhys and I have my sights set on something else tonight. The more time I spend with him, the more I want him. It’s time I let loose.

  He takes my hand and leads me out into the cool evening, turning to face me. “So, kitten, the night is young. What do you fancy doing now?”

  “Want to come back to my place?” I blurt before I can change my mind.

  Thirteen

  He’s hard, and it’s not something he can even attempt to hide. I mean, I’d already felt him hard against me that night in the alley, but it was dark and surprise obviously had me missing key facts. Tonight I’m not missing any details. We’d just spent the entire elevator ride up to my floor making out like horny high schoolers. Rhys devoured me until we were both breathless.

  I don’t know what I’m thinking as I lead him to my apartment, I am so out of my depth. But something, raging desire probably, pushes me on. That and the need to get Rhys and his massive hard-on out of the hallway, before any of the neighbors I have yet to meet, come out and get the absolute worst first impression of me imaginable.

  The second he closes my front door, I turn and drink him in. With the hard reality of him before me, I switch off the rational part of my brain and go all in, pushing myself against him. I breathe in the heady scent of arousal between us, feeling every inch of the firm body he obviously works hard to maintain, as he walks me backwards to the wall.

  “Kiss me,” I plead, not recognizing my own voice. This needy creature I’m becoming is completely foreign to me.

  “You don’t have to ask me twice, kitten.” He lifts me, pressing my back to the foyer wall, taking me in a deep and hungry kiss. He groans into my mouth. I’m pinned to the wall by his determination, it’s like he can’t get close enough to me and he’s unapologetic in trying. It feels wonderful and I need more. Greedily I take what he gives, until at last his need for oxygen pulls him away. He tears his lips away gasping. “Fuck, kitten.”

  I pant as a jolt of desperate excitement flashes through me, striking deep in my core. The need in his eyes and the fevered sound of his voice awaken yet more feelings in me I’m unfamiliar with. I feel proud of myself. Maybe I’ll have regrets in the morning, but knowing I’ve done that to him, made him so hungry for me, it’s so intoxicating I don’t care about tomorrow. And I can’t deny what that name does to me anymore. It makes me wet, pure and simple.

  “I like it when you call me that,” I whisper, surprised at myself for giving him the satisfaction of the admission. I can’t even force my walls to stay in place now that I’m this close.

  As he lowers me down, he makes sure to drag every hard inch of himself over me. My breath quickens though, because even through two layers of denim, the sensitive nerves at my center still zing with pleasure at the contact. I need to get him into my bed or I will end up throwing him down on the foyer floor.

  “Better get me to your room quick,” he growls into my neck, kissing a path down to my exposed collarbone. “I’m fit to have you right here.” His voice vibrates straight through me and I feel relieved I’m not the only one who can’t wait another second. I grab his hand and lead him down the hall.

  He pulls me back toward him even as we make progress, his arms wrapping around my body and his hands roaming blindly over my back, while his tongue seeks mine like it hasn’t only been seconds they were apart. We fumble our way toward the bedrooms, bumping and colliding with surfaces, taking far too long about it. In the doorway of my room, his hands slip into my hair, fisting it and pulling my head back slightly so that he can nip and suck at the sensitive skin of my throat. I moan appreciatively.

  He slides his hands from my hair and down my back, pausing when he cups my ass, all the while staring at me reverently. Holding his gaze, I skirt my fingers under his shirt, meeting hard ridges of muscle and wondering how far the ink spreads. I pull my eyes from his for a moment, lifting the shirt over his head and letting it drift out of my hand and drop to the floor.

  The sight before me makes my mouth water. Hard abs and smooth skin, peppered with works of art I hope to have time to look at later. One tattoo peaks my interest however. Across his chest in large Celtic style script is a word I’m not familiar with and stands out proudly. SAORSA.

  I stroke my fingertips lightly across it wondering about its meaning. Before I can even voice my question, Rhys captures my fingers in his, lifting them to his lips and placing a soft kiss on the pads. “It’s Gaelic,” he tells me.

  “What does it mean?”

  “There isn’t really a word for it in English.” He extends my arm, pressing his lips to the inside of my wrist, sending the sensation rippling through my pulse. “It means…” He pauses, thinking. “Finding your salvation, your liberty. It’s about finding freedom from the things in life that weigh you down. Redemption from your mistakes. For me it means giving myself permission to be more than just my duties and responsibilities. It’s a reminder to live.” Rhys touches his chest, over his heart, then shakes his head and looks away.

  I touch his cheek, bringing his eyes back to mine.

  “It’s important to me,” he says, sounding embarrassed that he’d exposed so much of himself. It’s the first time I’ve seen him vulnerable.

  I nod, not so much in understanding, more in awe. I never saw Rhys as such a deep soul. I want to know more about him. I want to know everything. But desire is still pulsing inside me, and we’ll have time to talk later.

  I reach for the hem of my own shirt and whip it over my head. For a second I wish I would have worn something a little sexier but when Rhys rakes his eyes over me, I know it doesn’t matter.

  “Gorgeous,” he murmurs as he brushes his knuckles across my nipple. The only barrier between us is the lace of my bra.

  I move to his belt, unbuckling it and pulling it through all the loops, the gleam in his eyes making me bolder than I’d typically be. I toss his belt aside and unbutton the first button on his jeans. I don’t manage to get any further because he cages me in with his arms, taking my mouth in a demanding kiss.

  Hot. Fuck.

  My pants are making my skin itch, too much clothing. I manage to unbutton them and shimmy out without breaking the kiss, eager to have his skin pressed to mine. Wrapping my arms around his neck, his strong arms come around me. His fingers trace my spine all the way down until he slips them into my panties cupping my ass with a firm grip. I break the kiss with a gasp.

  “Fuck, Rhys. I need you.” He chuckles and squeezes my ass almost to the point of pain but it hurts so good.

  “What are you waiting for?” His accent seems thicker in the heat of the moment.

  I try to move out of his grasp but he presses his fingers deep into the round flesh of my ass and lifts me. My legs automatically wrap around his waist and I clutch him tighter around the neck as he walks into my room.

  I unravel my legs when he reaches the end of the bed, sliding down his body. I gulp with anticipation at the thought of him inside of me. The second my feet hit the floor his fingers go to work, unclasping my bra. He slides the straps off my shoulders and carelessly tosses it aside. He skims his fingers over my nipple, watching mesmerized as it stiffens at his touch. A shiver of pleasure rolls through me when he rolls it between his finger and thumb. I cry out, feeling the tug in the deepest part of me. He licks his lips longingly and before I can even think ‘oh god, yes’, the warm tug of his tongue is pulling on nerves that run right to my clit. I’m ready to beg for release, but he doesn’t give me the chance.

  He then pulls away, leaving wet kisses on my stomach, moving slowly down, ever closer to the center of me. His hands, those god damn hands, working magic wherever they touch. My head falls back when he begins to slide my panties down my legs.

  “Kitten, look at me,” he commands, and I swear I feel his breath there. I shiver with anticipation.

  I look down and into his large
lustrous eyes. I’ve never had anyone on their knees before me like this. I’ve only been with one man and he never—well he never got that look of worship in his eyes—not even in the beginning. It’s unnerving, the blaze of intensity, the look of possession. I could freak out, but it’s intoxicating. He’s looking at me like I’m his and…I want to be.

  Slowly he grasps my ankle and lifts my leg, setting it on the end frame of the bed, opening me completely to him. I want to cover myself but I also want to see what comes next.

  He leans in, eyes still fixed on mine, and swipes his tongue through my folds and over my clit, sending sparks through every part of me.

  “Oh God,” I gasp.

  His eyes close and he groans. “Fuck, kitten. You taste so good,” he murmurs, his eyes re-opening and focusing on what’s in front of him for the first time. I feel self-conscious watching on while he parts me with his fingers and studies me, before laving his tongue once again across that knot of nerves. The bliss that action brings however, quickly erases all thought.

  He licks and sucks expertly, slipping first one, then two fingers inside me to brush over a place I thought only I knew existed. My legs begin to tremble and I throw my head back, moaning in amazement that it could ever feel so good. He seems to like this reaction because he ups the ante; sucking my clit into his mouth and rolling over and over it with his tongue while his fingers do things inside of me I have never been capable of. I cry out, it’s pure heaven. I can’t get enough and yet I hope there isn’t much more to come because I fear my legs are about to give way.

  He doesn’t stop, he goes faster, deeper. I climb higher and higher, until at last I reach the peak and my body tenses, giving my legs the strength in the final throes to support me through the most blinding, consuming orgasm I have ever experienced. I cry incoherently, gripped with pleasure so intense it almost hurts.