Page 33 of The Christmas Playbook
Rhys hitches an eyebrow as he watches me move out of his reach. “I want tounravelyou, Mira.”
I gulp. The mirth that is usually present in Rhys’s gaze is gone. Nine times out of ten, there’s a hint of humor lingering in his tone, but that’s gone, too.
Rhys looks ready to devour me, and suddenly, I have second thoughts.
Is this a good idea?
He’s my fake boyfriend. I all but forced him into a sham of a relationship, and now I’m excited about his fleeting touches, wishing they’d linger a little longer.
Hell, I even had the thought to force us into another outing with my family just so I can play make-believe again. That’s how I know I have it bad. Wanting to be around my family just so I can be around him?Insane.
Rhys hums, pulling my attention back to him. “Where’s my naughty little Mira hiding?” He erases some of the space I’ve put between us. “You seem bashful all of a sudden.”
I fidget and avert my gaze. “I’m not being bashful.”
When I glance back to him, he squints. His head tilts to the side. He takes another step closer and my stomach flips.
It was all fun and games earlier, but now my head is starting to catch on to what’s happening between us.
As I’m bouncing back and forth with thoughts, Rhys somehow ends up right in front of me. His scent engulfs my senses, dizzying me. My breath hitches when his finger gracefully touches my chin, lifting my face to peer at him.
“I can’t decide what version of you I like best,” he whispers.
I swallow. “What do you mean?”
A chill races down my arms with the brushing of his thumb against my swollen bottom lip.
“The fun, flirty version of you when you’re teasing me…” Rhys’s hooded eyes move back and forth between mine. “Or this version… the one where your cheeks turn a bright pink when I look at your lips, because you know I want them on mine. Or how you keep nervously looking away because you realize you’re starting to like the way I stare at you from across the room.”
I open my mouth to deny his claims, but as soon as I try, he cuts me off with a deep, moan-eliciting kiss.
Shit.
Rhys’s tongue moves over mine with purpose. He grips me beneath my butt and hauls me into his arms. We kiss until he lays me back on the bed. A shaky breath climbs from my lungs with him towering over me.
“Mmm.” He shakes his head. “I know what version I like best.”
My jeans begin to slip down my legs with his gentle pulls.
“What version?” I ask quietly, my voice raspy.
Rhys’s fingers slowly creep up my thighs, and I tingle everywhere. The moment he hooks his thumbs under my panties and steals them, I’m practically panting.
“The one where you beg.”
An argument is on the end of my lips, but it disappears altogether when his tongue swipes against my pussy.
“Oh my God.” My head tips backward from the blissful amount of pleasure coursing through my body.
I was so worked up earlier, before we were interrupted, that I’m already seconds from an orgasm. I spread my legs wider to give him easier access.
“More,” I moan.
I tremble when he starts to use his fingersandmouth. He leans back for a second, and I pout. “Let me hear you beg, Mira.”
Never.
His head disappears between my legs again, and he places soft kisses to my inner thigh. My eyes clench shut when he pushes his finger into me—slow, tiny thrusts that do nothing but make me embarrassingly needy. I’m in a frenzy. I grip the sheets. Arch my back.
