Page 72 of Playing Dirty
Now, it wasn't about winning or chasing—it was about being there, fully, with her. The slick heat of her body welcomed me home, her legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me deeper. I watched her face as I moved within her, memorizing every expression, the way her lips parted on a gasp when I hit just the right spot.
"I love you," she breathed against my ear, her body tightening around mine as she trembled on the edge.
The words went straight through me, settling somewhere deep and permanent. I'd said those words before, but never like this—never when they felt so damn right. I drove deeper, feeling her come apart beneath me, her release triggering my own.
"I love you too, Callie," I told her, like it had been sitting there waiting for me to finally let it out.
We stayed wrapped up in each other until the night blurred into early morning, the Strip’s lights still blazing outside our window. And somewhere between the last kiss and drifting off with her tangled in my arms, I knew I wasn’t ever letting her go.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Forever Starts Here
Callie
A Few Weeks Later
Iwas still getting used to calling Rhett’s place home. His place on Lucky Ranch was big, sprawling, and more polished than anything I’d ever lived in, but the truth was—it still felt like his.
That afternoon, he leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest, watching me with that sly grin that said he already knew what he wanted, but he’d let me figure it out anyway.
“So,” he drawled, “now that you’ve officially decided against Lilly’s apartment above the shop and moved your things here… what do we need to do to make this place yours too?”
I tilted my head, looking around the room. Everything gleamed. The walls were a safe, neutral beige, the furniture sturdy, expensive. There wasn’t a speck out of place. It was beautiful, but it didn’t have much of me in it yet.
“Well,” I started, tapping my finger against my lips, “for one, these walls could use a little color. Nothing crazy, just… warmer. Maybe a pale blue in the bedroom, or soft sage in the kitchen. Something that feels lived in.”
Rhett arched a brow. “You want to paint my house?”
I smirked. “Unless you’re attached to this shade of… oatmeal.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Go on.”
“And,” I added, glancing at the blank wall over the dining table, “you’ve got all these old photos tucked away. From before you were—” I waved vaguely toward the wide windows, where his fancy garage and perfectly kept fields sprawled— “you know, Mr. Millionaire. The way I remember you—us—as kids. Those should be on display. They tell your story. I want to see the Rhett who existed before the world thought money defined him.”
His grin softened, eyes warm in a way that always made my chest ache. “You want the scrappy kid version of me staring back at you while you eat breakfast?”
“Exactly. And, well— maybe some house plants.”
He laughed again, then nodded. “Alright. Paint, embarrassing photos, and plants. What else?”
I thought about the boxes stacked in his garage, dusty from neglect. The few things I’d kept from my years on the road with Tessa—posters, notebooks, odds and ends that never seemed worth unpacking until now.
“I’ve got some things in storage. Not much, but enough to make this place feel like mine too. A couple of trinkets, maybe a lamp or two. You’ll just have to put up with my sentimental junk.”
“Darlin’,” he said, pushing off the counter and sliding close enough to hook his finger through my belt loop, tugging me in, “if it’s yours, it’s not junk. It belongs here.”
That right there—that simple statement—hit me harder than I’d expected. This wasn’t just me moving in. It was him saying he wanted every part of me, even the messy, mismatched, sentimental bits.
I leaned into him, grinning. “So, you’re really okay with me changing things around here?”
“Long as you don’t go crazy,” he said, eyes glinting like he already knew where he wanted to poke at me. “One condition.”
I narrowed my gaze. “Condition?”
“Yeah,” he said, voice mock serious. “No pink. Anywhere.”
I laughed so hard I almost snorted. “Pink? You act like I’m about to turn your ranch house into Barbie’s Dream Home.”
