Brothers of Paradise Series

Rhys releases a quiet breath, the tension rising between us. I shouldn’t have asked. “You asked me for a favor, Ives. I did it.”

“That’s true,” I murmur. “But what I mean is, what did it feel like for you?”

“No, you asked what it meant for me. There’s no need to overanalyze that. It means I find you attractive.”

My breath catches in my throat. “Right.”

“I figure it felt pretty much the same way it felt for you,” he continues. “Which is to say, awesome.”Belongs © to NôvelDrama.Org.

I reach over to push against his shoulder, and it’s meant to be playful, but I don’t take my hand away. It rests there, against the solid curve of him. “I never said it was awesome.”

“It was clear on your face.”

“You can read me that well, huh?”

“I’m starting to, yeah.” Rhys’s voice lowers. “I’m a very good reader.”

I open my mouth to speak when another shiver rocks through me. It’s not really that cold, but my legs are completely bare, and have been for hours.

“Shit. Come here,” Rhys says, his arm moving. I shift closer and he tucks it beneath me, his other coming up to rest around my waist.

He’s warm. That’s the first impression, that’s he’s warm and big and everywhere against me. I rest my cheek against his chest and wonder at how natural this feels, when it should be sending my breathing into overdrive. But I’m not nervous.

His hand strokes up and down my back quickly, trying to get my body heat up. “I owe you one after making you spend the night out here like this, dressed in nothing but this ridiculous thing.”

“You said it was pretty earlier.”

“I said it would photograph well,” he corrects.

I smile against his chest. “What is it with you and frivolity?”

“I guess I’m just a grumpy old man who’d prefer the world to read books over social media posts and women to wear shoes they can walk in as opposed to death traps.”

“You’re confusing.”

“I am?”

“Yes. I thought you were this… high-flying, rich, good-for-nothing guy who goes to summer parties in the Hamptons. Who’s seen so much beauty that he’s immune to it.”

He snorts. “I wish I could have those words erased from your mind.”

“But you’re not that,” I say, and then grin. “Well, not only that.”

His hand settles around the curve of my waist, fingers digging in just slightly. “Well, considering I thought you were vapid and materialistic, I think we’re pretty even now.”

“I’ve changed your mind?”

“Try not to sound so gloating about it.”

I chuckle, daring to reach out an arm and wrap it around him, too. His body is hard to the touch. An image of him last night, pulling off his shirt, comes back to me. That’s what I’m touching right now, that rigid set of muscles covered by tan skin.

“So you want to have sex,” he says. “It’s not a question of a lack of want.”

“Right,” I say. “Are you continuing to play therapist?”

“Perhaps. Is it working?”

“Yes, but I wonder if you’re going on a sort of power trip.”

“You can tell me to shut up if I do. I won’t be offended.”

I snort again, my fingers curling gently into the fabric of his shirt. He really is very warm. “Do you know,” I say, “I’ve never really enjoyed kissing before. Before Paris, I mean. Most of the time, it was with men who were… rushing, somehow. Like they thought they only had a short window of opportunity to kiss me and they had to go in there like a rocket, all force and all tongue.”

“Rockets use tongue?”

I chuckle. “You know what I mean.”

“I guess I do. So you’re telling me that being kissed by me was the first time you’ve enjoyed kisses, period?” I feel him run a hand through his hair. “Fuck, Ivy, but you’re doing wonders for my ego over here.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You’re also not doing great for my self-control.”

“How so?”

He groans, his hand tightening on my waist. “Look, I just told you I was attracted to you, right? And you’ve told me over and over that you’re very used to that from men. In fact, you kinda wish they were less attracted to you.”

I blink. Twice. “That’s… yeah.”

“You’ve also demanded that I answer any sex-related question you might have, and I agreed.”

“Demanded is perhaps a bit too strong of a word.”

He snorts. “Regardless of the word choice, you do realize what all this is leading me toward? And I’d be a damn bit more subtle and smooth about it if it wasn’t for the fact that you’re tired of men putting the moves on you.”

I wet my lips, my heart a sudden pounding beat in my chest. Being around him is giving me heart palpitations, and that can’t be healthy. “I thought you were immune to beautiful women.”

“I’m not. Not to you, anyway.”

I have to swallow twice before I speak. “I realize what it’s leading you toward. It’s leading me to the same place, I think.”

He groans. “We’re discussing this so calmly. Fuck, but it’s bizarre.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

“Okay, then I won’t.”