Page 79 of Most Eligible
The singer’s voice goes high, pitches over a mountain, and tumbles down the other side as Rhett leans closer.
Oh my, oh my, how I love her, my dear,
The only thing I wish is that she were still here.
“I was going through a hard time when I met you. Cassidy and I were on the rocks and my father had just died.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, but he shakes his head, runs his hand down his face.
“Don’t be. He wasn’t a nice man. Meeting you felt like taking a breath of air after drowning.” He cups my neck in his hand, tipping my head back. “That night with you…” He lets out abreath, shakes his head. “That was the best night of my life. But after you fell asleep, I didn’t think I could do it, drag you into anything more—I was still technically married to Cassidy. I didn’t want anything to be messy. So, I left.”
My heart thumps as I remember waking up in my bed to find that Rhett was gone, the mattress barely indented where he’d been just hours earlier. There was no note, no scribbled phone number. No coffee left on the counter. The only proof he’d been there was the deadbolt flicked in the opposite direction as it had been the night before.
“Plus…” he trails off, still chewing the inside of his lip.
“What?” I bump my knee against his under the table and he sucks in a breath. He drags his eyes up my jeans, my neck, and to my face. I feel warm everywhere they land, like he’s kissed his way up my body instead of just looking.
“I didn’t think you’d want this,” he breathes. “Me.”
My lips part, breathing in the first notes of the musician’s next song.
The echo of what I said to him after we almost hooked up in his hot tub at the mansion is a gut punch. I’d thought I was protecting us, but now I see how much it hurt him.
“I didn’t mean that,” I whisper. “I’m sorry. I—I think I was just scared.” I rest my forehead on the soft cotton at his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” he says, brushing his knuckles along my jaw. The words are so tender, so tightly wound that my throat squeezes. He has no idea how sorry I deserve to be.
Pulling away, he runs his fingers down the sweating aluminum of his drink. It’s mesmerizing, hallucinogenic. I down the rest of my club soda, feeling it cool my chest, my stomach, everywhere I want his lips.
“It’s too late.” My voice cracks. That’s what I said back on the roof of the mansion, but now I don’t want it to be true. I want toturn back time and land back in my bed, curled into his warmth. “It’s too late,” I whisper again. By lying my way onto this show, by sending his texts to Serena, I’ve made damn sure it’s too late no matter how badly we both want it. A tear slides down my face and Rhett brushes it away.
“Is it?” he asks.
Those two words lodge like a peach pit in my throat. Lips parted, I shake my head. “I don’t want it to be.”
The way he’s looking at me, his knee brushing mine under the table, his hand on my hip, blocking out the rest of the world. We’re not just talking about sex. And here, in this crowded bar, no one is paying us any attention. Instead of pink strobes, neon signs flash on his face. He’s the band and I’m swaying to his melody. I’ll go anywhere with him.
He runs his teeth over his bottom lip, takes a ragged breath. “I…” His fingers flare on my hip, sending a shock through me. His eyes dance down to my chest, drag up and pause on my lips like he’s as attuned to my body as I am to his.
“Just once,” I whisper. “One more time.”
His eyebrows contract, but it’s so sudden, that I might have imagined it. He glances over his shoulder, pulls his cap lower over his forehead. I may be anonymous, but he isn’t.
“Let’s go.” I wind my fingers through his and pull him out of the booth, through the crowd of people now dancing to a Kacey Musgraves cover.
It’s not cold outside, but the fresh air is a slap in the face, a reminder of how dangerous this is. We turn into an alley and Rhett presses me to the cool brick wall. His hands frame my hips, his eyes search my face.
“Georgia.” It’s a plea and a prayer. He swallows hard, glances at the mouth of the alley, but no one passes. His knee presses between mine, parting my legs. “Are you here for him?”
I shake my head, lips parting, letting Roland out of my system.It’s not giving myself away, not really. It’s just a nudge in the right direction. And as much as every part of me is aching to tell Rhett everything, this is all I can manage. Because if I give him more, I could ruin everything.
“If you want to stop, tell me,” he says. He leans closer, a lion stalking its prey. I’m craving the pounce. “Tell me to stop.”
“Don’t stop,” I whisper.
And then his mouth is on mine, his hand sliding down my thigh, sending heat through my jeans as he lifts my knee and presses his hips into mine. He trails his lips down my throat and lifts my T-shirt, fingers tracing up to my chest.
“Georgia,” he murmurs. His eyes are dilated so far I can barely see the green rims. His thumb skims my ribs, his jaw flexing as he works his fingers higher, brushing across my taped nipple. He brings his head back ever so slightly, an amused smile on his face. “May I?” he whispers.
