Page 39 of Unravel Me

I wonder if he can feel the shock radiating from my heart—the disbelief at how natural it feels to be here with him. To trust him with the most vulnerable pieces of me. To let him see the tangled mess of my soul, and a body no one else has touched since the man who shattered it.

Rhett’s hardened length presses against my thigh, but he pauses, pulling his mouth away from my chest where he’d been kissing me, sucking until I was breathless.

“Tell me to stop, and I will,” he says with a strained voice. I glance down at his powerful body over mine, and I shake my head. I want to come undone.

I want to feel what it’s like to be with Rhett.

Hanging onto the back of his neck, I guide my hips up, needing to feel him inside of me, to finally lose complete control.

To prove to myself I am in control—that every decision in this new life, whatever it may become, is mine and mine alone. No one else gets to decide for me.

Without breaking the spell that we find ourselves in, he reaches over to the nightstand, grabbing protection and rolling it on quickly. Rhett swallows my moans as he enters me, supporting my arched back when he thrusts in slow, methodical motions. We never broke again from each other, my eyes never leaving his, his mouth never leaving my body for more than a second.

Rhett takes his time, his fingers finding my sensitive spot, focusing solely on my pleasure while I drag my nails down his back, unable to contain the ecstasy as I writhe in his arms.

And as we both lay still, breathless on the bed inside his farmhouse bedroom, the setting sun casts a pink glow through the windows.

From now on, there is a distinct before and after in my life.

Before I met Rhett on the rooftop. Before I accepted the promotion.

Before, before, before.

I was now in the after. The complicated but blissful after.

“I wish I had something else, you sure this will do?” Rhett hands me a long t-shirt and I happily slip it on, breathing in the scent of him. Cedar and musk. Rhett smooths out his wild hair in the mirror over his dresser and catches me watching. I blush, but his lips pull to the side. I’m not used to being noticed after sex. Jackson would either pass out or start scrolling through emails, but Rhett…he doesn’t give me a chance to recover before filling me with more butterflies.

“Join me outside?” he asks, and I follow him onto the screened in porch off his bedroom. The porch is like the rest of the house, quirky but charming with its slightly tilted floor. Wind chimes hang over a set of wicker furniture, complete with pink and white floral cushions. I sit down on the sofa, sinking into the cushion, and watch Rhett light a citronella candle.

“I didn’t take you as a cottagecore man,” I tease, as he sits down next to me, reaching an arm around my shoulder.

“A what?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.

“Oh, it’s just the aesthetic of this porch is very quaint and pastel…and you’re very…not?” I cringe, frustrated by how easily Rhett flusters me, leaving me unable to string together a simple sentence.

But his hearty laugh eases my worry, and he smiles at me. “I built a sunporch for an older couple last summer and they insisted I take their old outdoor set and all the decor. They were so sweet; I didn’t want to hurt their feelings. So, I guess that makes me cottagecore.” He winks and I just shake my head, heart warmed by how considerate of a guy he is.

I also didn’t want him to think I cared about material things like the furniture in his house. Sure, his home was patched up in most places, but I felt something here I’d never felt anywhere else.

I felt accepted. There were no pretentious precursors to being here. It almost felt unfair.

Like, what did I do to deserve being here, with him?

“All I get at my job is dry eyes from the computer screen and permanent knots in my neck from stress.”

“If only you knew someone with large hands willing to massage you,” Rhett adds, winking at me, and this time I knowingly blush. I wouldn’t say no to a massage from this man. Ever.

We fall into a comfortable silence, letting the heat wrap around us as the meadow just beyond the house begins to come to life. The meadow makes me think of the books I read as kids. I didn’t grow up in a yard that was meant to play in, or a house that garnered imagination. Certainly nothing charming. The Elson homes were built and furnished for impressions, not comfort.

“What made you buy this place?”

I glanced up at Rhett, whose arms dangled around the back of the sofa as he gazed over his property.

“I bought it because of my dad, actually.” He clears his throat. “He died twelve years ago.” My hand finds his and my heart aches.

“I’m so sorry, Rhett.” He smiles weakly and continues, his eyes tracing the old porches’ wood beams.

“Thank you. We had to pass this house to get to my grandparents, and every time we did, my dad would always comment about what a shame it was that they let it go. The family moved to the city and let it fall apart. No one wanted to buy it. It needed so much structural work done. About five years ago, my lease was up with Ky. I was coming out of a rough spot, but I had money saved, and I found myself driving out this way, saw the house, and knew I had to have it.” Rhett licked his lips, his blue eyes now on me, talking directly into my heart.