Page 34 of Deafened By Silence
“Get in the tub, Babygirl.” He eases me forward by the waist, holding my weight as I step into the hot tub in his jersey and the black lace underwear Addy insisted I wore underneath. He’s right behind me, mirroring my actions as he glides into the water and when I attempt to move away, he drags me down into his lap. I tense slightly but his hands are on me again, massaging my shoulders this time.
Bubbles lap around me, the heat seeping into my skin. Of all the things I expected to feel tonight, this wasn’t it. Pain was at the top of the list, probably possessive throat holding and having my face slammed into a wall whilst Rhys attempted to take me from behind. I’d fully planned on waiting until the last moment before snapping his dick off, but he’s decided to come at me from left field. Easing the knots from my shoulder blades, attempting to convince me that I’m discovering a side of him no one else gets to see. A power move, I’m sure.
Movement appears at our side and I flinch, catching the delayed beat of music through the closing back door. The junior that helped with clearing up kneels to balance a tray of drinks on the edge of the tub and whisks away again, keeping his eyes diverted at all times. Rhys only moves once he’s disappeared back inside. He keeps me pressed against him, leaning forward to hand me another prosecco and retrieve himself one of the whiskeys.
“Drink,” Rhys orders. “And relax. We’re going to be here for a while.”
“Doing what?” I raise a brow over my shoulder. I jolt for a second, not spotting his chain or my mic, until I hear the faint static of my hair rustling with the movement and realise just what he’s secured my ponytail with.
He reaches around to lift the glass in my hand and tip it against my lips as the water swirls around us. I hold his gaze, unblinking as I drink. Rhys sips his whiskey too, smirkingbehind his glass. For a second, the night feels suspended, the party noise a dull echo in the background. My pulse thrums in my ears, not from fear but from the dizzying rush of being seen, chosen, and dared.
“You are nothing like what I expected,” he says almost too quietly to catch. I hold back a sarcastic comment along the lines of,well yeah – you expected me to be blind and helpless.There’s no point bringing up the past now, not when I’m too interested in what’s happening in the present. Tonight is a one-time deal, might as well let my inhibitions go.
Finally giving in to temptation, I twist, swiveling until I’m straddling his lap. Rhys lets out a sound of pure approval, his arms spreading to lean against the wood-lined tub. Setting my glass down, I let my fingers wander across the elaborate tattoos etched into his chest and shoulders.
They remind me of Rodin’s Gates of Hell, an intricate masterpiece of angels and demons, men and skeletons locked in a desperate climb. My touch follows the curve of an angel with white-feathered wings lifting a crying woman upward, then drifts to a demon crouched over the severed head of his victim. Every figure is unique, yet all are drained of color, their stories told only through line and shadow.
Before my fingers reach the ink at his neck, he catches my hand and presses it firmly to the center of his chest, the steady beat of his heart drumming against my palm. His skin is hot beneath my touch, slick with the steam curling from the water, and when he leans in, his tongue traces a slow, deliberate line along my jaw from chin to ear.
My breath hitches as his intoxicating scent floods my senses, the smoke from his earlier cigarette clinging to him, threaded through with something darker, sharper, and undeniably Rhys. The heat of the water merges with the heat of his touch until itfeels as though every nerve in my body is on high alert, every part of me pulled taut like a string about to snap.
“Since when have you been anything except a scheming asshole?” I ask, not really expecting an answer, my voice coming out rougher than I intended. My mouth takes on a life of its own, brushing against his temple. “I figured you would have your way with me and kick me out.” Rhys’ lips graze my earlobe, creating a dance of movements that clearly avoids our mouths touching, until he pauses.
“Is that what you came here for?” His voice is infuriatingly calm, each word vibrating against my skin.
“Maybe.” I swallow, hating how unsteady I sound. My hands dip beneath the water, trailing over his abdomen. “I figured we could burn through this attraction and get back to our lives.” Rhys chuckles, his hand sliding to my thigh in an attempt to anchor me more securely on his lap.
“We have a lot more in common than I thought. It may have started that way, but when I saw you in my jersey, looking like a pink-wrapped package just for me, I changed my mind.” He tilts his head back slightly, meeting my gaze with a smirk that is softer than his usual dangerous vibe. “I’ll go back to being the asshole you hate tomorrow. Just give me tonight.”
Something inside me twists hard, my stomach coiling as the heat seeps all the way to my core. I clench my thighs out of habit, and Rhys’ cock pulses right back. He’s growing harder, pressing firmly against my center. The warning bells in my skull clash with the thrill of surrender.
“Okay. I’ll give you tonight.”
Rhys’ thumb strokes slow circles against my waist, the touch maddeningly tender compared to the way my nails are digging into his skin. I need to calm down. I can’t be the one who is out of control here. Wetting my lips, which was instantly a bad idea as it brings Rhys’ attention back to them, I exhale deliberately.
“You’re wrong by the way. I don’t like being the good girl for the villain everyone fears.” Rhys’ brow arches, interest sparking in his blue eyes, the lip ring at the corner of his mouth curving. He leans forward, finally crossing the boundary we’ve been dancing around and brushing his lips over mine.
“Oh no? What do you enjoy then?”
I smile, pulling back and taking great satisfaction in the way his mouth follows me. The way his body leans over mine and an arm snakes around my back as if I might push off and disappear any moment. Toying with my tongue between my teeth, I bathe in his full attention before offering my confession and challenge all at once.
“I like being the villain’s weakness.”
Chapter Twenty One
I can’t watch any longer. Whatever excuse I told myself for coming here, that I was checking Harper was safe, disintegrated the second I saw her with him. Now I’m standing half-hidden behind a thick tree trunk on the edge of Wavershit’s yard, drunk enough to feel it in my legs, sober enough to know I look like a fucking creep. My fury’s rotting inside me, turning into something feral, but still I can’t move.
In the hot tub, Harper’s plastered to his chest like she belongs there, fingers sliding over his tattoos, eyes dark with want. I’d pictured her dangling upside down from the banister again, or drunk out of her mind and shoved into the woods as some cruel joke. Instead she’s perfectly fine. More than fine. She’s a college girl at a party on a Friday night. And me? I’m the lunatic in the trees, watching.Fuck.
I’ll never trust Rhys Waversea as far as I can throw him, but Harper, she doesn’t look like she needs saving. Not from him. Not tonight at least.
I peel away into the shadows, tugging my beanie lower and striding out into the empty campus. The music is still thumping behind me, carrying for miles, but everywhere else is dead quiet.Either everyone’s at the party or hiding in their rooms wishing they were. I try to map out how I’ll waste the rest of the night. Hit the library, shoot hoops, maybe grind out the anger in the gym. Anything but picture Harper wrapped aroundhim.
Truth is, I don’t even know why I came. My feet dragged me here before my brain could object. And now, after seeing them together, every excuse rings hollow.She’s not yours to save.She never was. I can’t even save myself. Christ, I’ve proven that a dozen times, but some warped part of me still wants to try. If Harper ever looked at me like I was worth something, maybe one of the million broken cracks inside me might finally snap back into place. Which is pathetic, because that makes me no better than Wavershit, using her to prove a fucking point.
Yanking off my beanie, I claw a hand through my hair and give a tight tug to the ends. Life was simple up to a few weeks ago – shit yes, but simple. Now I’m questioning every move I make and toying with impossible fantasies which are not meant for me. The night is as cold as any other this time of year, but my blood is pumping hot enough to warm me through in my thin, military jacket. A pair of young ladies in thigh high boots and not much else huddle into each other, barging passed me in the direction of their dorms.
“I heard that deaf girl is Rhys’s date tonight.”
