Page 39 of Not Made to Last

“As inpenetration?”

“Oh, my God,” I murmur. “Yes.”

He cracks a smile, right before he hooks a single finger into my waistband and pulls me toward him. I’m so surprised by the sudden move that I don’t have time to react until I’m standing between his legs. I stutter on a breath and grip his shoulders for balance. His hands find my hips, fingertips digging into me. Eyes half-hooded, he pulls me closer, looks up at me. Voice deep, smooth, he says, “As in my hard cock in your wet pussy?”

Jesus.

Fire licks at my flesh, simmers beneath the surface. I nod once, my throat suddenly dry. “Yes.”

His grin turns mischievous and he pushes forward, his eyes never leaving mine. Breath hot against my bare stomach, he runs his lips along my skin, so light I barely feel it. My eyes drift shut when he kisses my belly button, then snap open when he parts his lips, his hot tongue snaking across my abdomen to my hips. First one. Then the other. He takes his time, gliding his hands up my sides until his thumbs near the underside of my breasts. He strokes me there, and I let out a moan. Or a groan. I can’t tell if I’m frustrated or turned on. I just know that I want more.Needmore. “Rhys,” I whisper and dig my nails into his shoulders when I feel him smile against my stomach. He’s so wicked in his ways—his lips, his hands, his words—all just enough to tease, but not enough to torture. He keeps his eyes on mine when he lowers the band of my shorts, just an inch. Then he kisses where I’m newly exposed, again and again, his breath faltering with every press of his lips.

My muscles clench, my breath trapped within my rib cage, and I’m done with his games.

I pull away from his mouth and grasp his head in my hands, forcing him to look up at me. Then I lower my mouth to his. But before I can make contact, he rolls out from beneath me, and I fall onto the mattress, face-first, andwhat the fuck?

I flip onto my back just in time to watch him shove his hand down his shorts to adjust himself. “Where do you consider home?” he asks.

I repeat, “What the fuck?” Only this time, I say it out loud.

“Where do you consider home?” he asks again, all lazy and cool, and I throw a pillow at his head. Of course, he blocks it, then uses it to cover his junk. And then he does something that makes me wish I had something far more solid to throw at him.Helaughs. “You never said we had to have sex now… or tonight, even.”

I sit up in the middle of the bed. “What is wrong with you?”

“You said one time, and it’s over.” He shrugs. “What if I’m not ready for it to be over yet?”

“Rhys…” His name is a sigh. “That’s not…” I don’t even know what to say to that.

“What? We can’t hang out until then?”

I shake my head. He may not know the full truth of who we are to each other, but he knows enough. “We shouldn’t be hanging out at all.”

“So, ask me to leave then,” he deadpans, and it’s the second time he’s brought it up. If I weren’t so in tune with the ways of Rhys Garrett, I’d almost assume hewantsme to ask him, but that’s not what this is. This is him, constantly throwing the ball in my court and waiting for me to decide what the hell to do with it. That way, should anything actually happen between us, he won’t be responsible. It’s smart—just like every decision, every play, every move Rhys makes.

I wonder how many times he’s gotten away with it.

Probably not as many times as I’ll look back on this moment and regret what I could’ve/should’ve/would’ve done.

I’m supposed to have said something by now, told him to leave, or asked him to stay, but my feelings aren’t binary. I can’t simply pick one or the other.

“I told you before,” Rhys says, breaking through my thoughts. “This isn’t just about sex for me, Liv. I want to get to know you. Anything else is a bonus.”

“What if sex is the only thing I can offer right now?” Orever… at least with him.

With a heavy sigh, he gets on the bed, kneeling opposite me, and mumbles, “Then I guess I’ll have to take it.”

“Jeez.” It’s annoying how easily he can make me giggle like an idiot. “Don’t get too excited.”

He chuckles, gently pushing on my shoulder until I’m flat on my back. “This is what happens when you don’t give me options.” He grabs my thighs, forcing them apart, then effortlessly drags me toward him until he’s in between my legs. He settles a warm hand on my stomach, fingers splayed, and inches it higher, higher, slowly, slowly. I watch his eyes lose focus when he gets to the space between my breasts. Arching my back, I writhe against him. “Fuck,” he spits, removing his hand and falling back on his haunches. “If we’re going to do this, you have to at least let me buy you dinner first.”

I drop my head to the mattress, stare up at the ceiling. “Why are you cock-blocking yourself like this?”

Reaching into his pocket, he mumbles, “Because I’m a sucker for pain.” After pulling out his phone, he taps it a few times, then hands it to me. “Find something on that menu you like.” Then he lowers himself on top of me and nuzzles my neck. He kisses the spot just below my ear, his weight held up on his forearms, and then he parts his lips, his tongue like flames flickering against me, burning through my flesh, into my veins and it’s so much all at once…

…until it’s nothing at all.

Rhys pulls back, extending his arm, and then he smirks.

I push on his shoulder—a feather touch versus a brick wall. “Stop teasing me.”

---