Page 135 of Flare

“You deserve every bit of it.” Alec pulled me into a quick hug then let me go. “And thanks again.”

I patted his shoulder. “Come visit when the store opens again in about a month. That is if you’re still in the country and not in New York. And make sure to get any contract checked out, especially if it’s exclusive. Whoever you sign with will become your mother agency as long as they have your contract, so you want to be careful. Use that business head of yours and always keep a wary eye out. This industry can be hell on innocents.”

He beamed. “Will do. And thanks again, Rhys.” He turned and almost ran into a crowd of people exiting the centre and had to jump back. “I tell you, my head’s still in a spin. I’m a danger to myself.”

* * *

Three hours later, I was exactly where I wanted to be, curled up against the hot skin of Beck’s back, in his bed, in his house, sleep eluding me as I couldn’t ignore the police car outside and the nausea at knowing Shayne was still on the loose, and that he’d been watching me all those months. I grunted to myself. Something else to take to therapy. Like I needed anything more. I had a lifetime supply of fucked up as it was.

Beck softly snored, and the sound rumbled against the flat of my hand lying over his heart. I pushed thoughts of Shayne aside. This was more important.

Beckett Northcott’s heart beating under my hand.

The heart of the man I loved.

They hadn’t won, those fuckers seventeen years ago. Or Shayne. They wouldn’t take this from me. I would fight for it with everything I had.

I brushed my cheek across Beck’s shoulder, drawing the scent of him in—books and marker pen and Creed Adventus—a gift from me for the show. It smelled good on him, and I burrowed my nose and pressed tiny kisses to his spine, not looking to wake him, just needing to reassure myself of the truth of the moment.

That this was real.

Beck was in my life, to stay. We had work to do but we’d get there, together. And with determination and the help of friends, Flare would reopen to the promise of a bright future. And fuck me if I didn’t also love that we made some weird-arse kind of family. Beck, Jack, Serena, and me. I sighed happily and snuggled closer, thoughts quieting in my head. Almost asleep... almost... until my phone vibrated on the bedside cabinet.

Shit.I swore under my breath and eased my arm free of Beck so I could turn to glance at the screen. Preston.

My heart flipped and I swallowed hard as I got up on an elbow to answer. The call took less than a minute, and when it was done, I slipped my arm back around Beck’s waist, my heart thudding in my chest.

He stirred and put his hand over mine. “Hey, you.” He waited.

I put my cheek against his back and kissed him softly. “They got him, baby. Shayne. They got him.”

EPILOGUE

Three months later

Beck

Rhys openedhis eyes and leaned closer, pressing a kiss to my open mouth, his tongue sliding alongside mine, his slender body gleaming bronze in the afternoon sunshine striping our bed.

Jack was with a friend for the weekend, and Rhys and I had taken our Sunday lunch to bed. He’d moved in a month back and Jack gave us constant shit about making too much noise. In the end Rhys bought him some noise cancelling ear buds, which I suspected was Jack’s plan all along. Still, we took every opportunity to get dirty when the house was teenager-free. Waste not, want not.

As we kissed, I trailed my fingers up the shaft of his semi-hard cock and gently clasped it for a few gentle tugs. He gasped in delight but didn’t move, and I ran my thumb over his wet slit and lifted it to his mouth. He sucked greedily, eyes locked on mine, and I was so fucking turned on I almost came on the spot.

Me actually fisting Rhys’s dick and not a restraint in sight? This was brand-new territory for us, barely a week old. Callum thought we were ready, but we weren’t worried if he was proved to be wrong. We expected setbacks. And if this was as far as we ever got, I didn’t give a fuck. Rhys was exciting and unpredictable and so fucking sexy, and I loved him more than I thought possible. Whatever we did in bed would be perfect.

But these no-sex desensitising touch sessions were beginning to drive me crazy. They’d become endurance exercises in frustration and Rhys was the indisputable master. We’d instigated an ongoing wager on who broke first—Rhys reaching his hard limit for the day or me nutting all over him before he got there. Enough to say the running score wasn’t in my favour.

“You’re close.” He smirked against my lips, tugging at the red tie hanging loose around my neck. “You’re gonna lose, sucker.”

“Shut your mouth,” I hissed. “Or I won’t wash your hair afterward.” Something Rhys loved almost as much as the exercises themselves.

Another few passes over his cock and suddenly Rhys tensed and huffed, “Enough.”

I dropped both my hands to his thighs—our rest button—like home plate. Then I leaned forward to capture his lips and ran my tongue over that salty, glossy mouth before pressing a firm kiss in place and relaxing back on the headboard.

Rhys smiled and closed his eyes to sink into the moment. Gone were the tight lines of fear that framed his eyes in those early sessions. Instead, a deep rose tinted his cheeks, his jaw slack, his neck relaxed, and a gentle semi resting in his groin. Rhys didn’t always get hard when we did this, but it was happening more often. He hadn’t had a panic attack since he moved in, and although he still needed a little blue help with an erection now and then, that was slowly improving.

But it had taken a while. Rhys had done it hard for the first couple of weeks after Shayne’s arrest. Sex between us had been... difficult, and we’d needed a few joint sessions with Callum to get us through, but we’d made it.

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