Page 95 of Flare

Usain Bolt had nothing on me.

CHAPTERTWENTY

Beck

The school hallblazed in a magical cloud of fairy lights that danced up and down with every gust of wind that caught them—the early promise of a storm brewing in the Hauraki gulf and headed this way. The double entrance door stood flanked by tall potted plants and a bevy of shrewd-eyed parents who checked students for contraband before they entered.

Jack stood with his new group of friends, hanging out by the entrance and waiting for the rest of their contingent to arrive, completely unaware that his ridiculous uncle and said uncle’s way-too-hot-for-him boyfriend were creeping on him from a shadowy corner of the parking lot.

Well, me, mostly.

“You’re embarrassing yourself.” Rhys chuckled from the passenger seat where he was busy scrolling on his phone.

“I don’t care,” I grumbled. “Besides, he doesn’t know we’re here. He didn’t see us sneak back.”

“You.” Rhys poked me in the ribs. “Yousneaked back. Don’t drag me into it. I’d have you in bed already if it was up to me.”

I shot him a sideways glance. “Fine sidekick you turned out to be. You’re supposed to be the Robin to my Batman.”

He snorted. “More like the Laurel to your Hardy.”

I laughed and took his hand, grateful we’d found our way back to this familiar easiness between us. After keeping things to nothing more than a little hot and heavy kissing since his attack, after his session with Callum things took a turn for the better. It wasn’t about missing the sex. It was more to do with the burden of unease that seemed to curl around his entire body every time he’d looked at me after that night. And when we’d kissed, it was like he was holding a part of himself back.

After his second session with Callum the day before, that unease had almost disappeared. Almost. He’d driven himself this time, but just like after the first, he came to mine when it was done, still exhausted but with more of a smile in place. And he’d stayed the night, in my bed this time. I worried that I’d screw up by reaching for him in the middle of the night and setting him off, but he’d seen straight through me and said as long asIwas okay if something happened, he wanted to try.

That had been more than fine by me.

As it turned out, nothing happened, and I woke with the first hint of watery grey light to stripe the bed, only to find Rhys already awake and staring at me from the other side of the mattress, his eyes soft and full of something I wasn’t sure I knew what to do with. The quiet night had given him confidence to try a repeat of the touching exercise from the week before, only more structured this time.

Pattern was important, apparently—like head-to-toe relaxation. A predictable routine that soothes the unconscious and calms the body. We’d knelt facing each other this time—the first touch making his heart jump and his breath catch just like before. But when I followed his instructions and traced this new pattern on his trembling body, he’d slowly relaxed.

Rhys had asked me to start at his head and finish at his hips—slow soothing strokes followed by gentle circles, even and firm, until his eyelids fluttered closed, his body fell quiet, his soft cock lying gently to one side, his breathing settled, and until he told me, “Enough.”

We’d continued to kneel that way a while longer as he kept his eyes closed and focused on his breathing, while I studied his face and mapped every centimetre—the face of the man who’d come to mean so much to me. And when he was done, Rhys gave a languid stretch and pulled me down next to him, asking me to hold him, my arms wrapped around his peaceful body, his pulse a steady drum against my chest.

Simple, chaste, and devastating to my heart, which exploded in my chest with a need that took my breath away.

I knew in that moment that I wanted this man in my life, I wanted to share a life with him, whatever it took.

A flash of light striped the distant horizon and I blinked back the emotion the memory had brought with it and refocused on Jack. He was laughing at something on one of the girl’s phones and my heart burst with relief at seeing him so happy.

Rhys huffed, and I glanced across to find him smiling at his phone. “What’s got you so happy?”

“It’s Kip. We’re apparentlytrending.”

A grin split my face. “And Gloria hoped it would all die a quiet death.”

“Fuck her. Aloysius picked it up yesterday and Kip says it’s going off like a fucking rocket.”

I stared at him blankly. “Aloysius?”

Rhys patted my arm. “He’s a major fashion European influencer. Suffice to say, one scathing post from him could make or break a season’s collection. We’ll have to wait and see, but he apparently likes my stuff, so...” He dropped his phone in his lap and sighed. “I’m still not sure how I feel about it, but it’s kind of hard to find a fuck to give with Gloria tanking my business without a second thought.”

“Don’t go feeling sorry for her. Those designs were yours. She had no right.”

“True.” Rhys slumped in his seat. “I just wish we weren’t cornered into having to do anything.”

“Well, it could still all fizzle and die. Like you said, she’s a big label. Her followers might not give a shit how she does it, as long as they can get a cool design at a cheap price.”

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