Pieces of Rhys (12 page)

"Tina didn't hurt me with her words because she was right. She didn't say anything I haven't been thinking myself for the past few days. What hurt me is hearing it out loud."

Rhys looked for words to come to his lips, but all he did was a lot of sputtering.

"Wow. I didn't think it was possible to make you speechless."

I sat up and spun around so that I was sitting directly across from him. I leaned forward so that we were nearly nose to nose.

"I know that you love me," I whispered. "But I know you don't love me the way that I love you. I don't want to talk about it anymore. You wanted to know what was wrong with me. Now you know. Let's stop talking about it, because there's nothing to do about it."

He put his hands on my head, in my hair. "I'm sorry," he said and I knew he meant it. I could have questioned what he was sorry for, but the list was too long, and I was so over talking about things that most likely weren't going to change.

He kissed me, hard and desperate. Once again I pushed my trepidation down into the dark recesses of my mind and heart, with the full realization that it would eventually all blow up in my face.

Chapter Nineteen

"Don't look at me like that. We're going to have to find a way to get along. Don't worry, it's temporary. Your person has commitment issues." I leaned in close. "But you should know, I'm better than any of those other girls."

"Meow," Fat Joe the Cat said in a boring tone and then yawned in my face.

"How rude! You can get your own Friskies, fatty."

"Did you just call my cat fat?" Rhys asked, walking into the kitchen in nothing but a towel. The droplets of water clinging to his beautiful body looked refreshing.

"He was rude," I said defensively. "He has no manners."

"You're going to give him a complex."

"He's the King Kong of cats," I pointed out. "It's not like he doesn't already know he's a fat cat."

"Don't be mean," Rhys said firmly and then gave me a short and sweet kiss.

"Whatcha got under that towel?" I asked, tugging slightly on it.

"You already know because you saw it first thing this morning."

"Correction. I
felt
it first thing this morning. I didn't see anything."

"Well, in that case who am I to stop you from having a peek?" He grinned at me.

"You're all wet," I sighed.

His hand slipped between my thighs and under my underwear.

"So are you," he whispered.

"Round two?" I breathed as he nuzzled my neck.

"Mmm hmm."

He walked me over to the table and swiped everything to the floor. The salt shaker shattered a few feet away and a few papers drifted to the floor.

"You're a messy boy," I admonished.

He smiled and kissed me slowly as he pressed me against the table until I was sitting on the edge. I ran my hands over his wet body, relishing how
hot
this man was. Several weeks after our Labor Day weekend at the shore, he could still turn me on like a freakin' faucet, making me wet and wanting.

Rhys slowly pushed me back as he kissed me until I was on my back and my legs were wrapped around him. His towel had slipped away and I could feel his erection pressing against the most sensitive part of my body. He slipped a hand under my shirt and rolled a nipple between his fingers.

"People eat at this table," I groaned.

"I don't care," he said, standing upright.

He pulled me to the edge of the table, pushed my panties to one side and just as I felt him entering me, I cleared my throat really loud.

"What?" He asked, his face beautifully confused.

I started to point at Fat Joe, but he was watching me, and it was rude to point. Didn't I just tell him how rude he was? So, I nodded towards him instead.

"The cat's giving you stage fright?" He asked incredulously.

"He's watching us. It's creepy."

"You've never had sex in front of an animal?"

"No. You know people are always saying pets are people, too. It's like having sex in front of a person. I can't even perform in front of a goldfish."

Rhys shook his head and laughed. So cute. Fat Joe protested when Rhys picked him up and carried him to another room. I heard a door close and a muffled, angry meow. He returned to the kitchen, positioned himself in front of me and without any further preamble, plunged inside of me.

"Holy shit!" I cried out.

We had just done this not even two hours ago, and it felt just as good as it did then. In fact, it felt just as good as it did the very first time we had sex.

Rhys held onto my thighs as he moved, and I gripped at his wrists. He moved deeper, as far as he could go and then moved side to side. I moaned and wiggled beneath him.

"I love being inside of you," he groaned. "Come for me, baby."

I did as I was told. I called out his name as I reached the peak of my climax, digging my nails into his skin, unable to release him. He came quietly, holding my thighs so tightly, I knew I would bruise.

That was a quickie but goodie, and we didn't even have to do it in front of the cat.

"I'll clean your table for you," I said a few minutes later.

He smiled and kissed my forehead before leaving the room.

I quickly swept up the salt and glass then got to work on the table. I'm no germaphobe or anything, but I didn't think it was right to just leave sex juices all over the table.

I had just finished sanitizing the table when someone rang the doorbell. I froze. What if it was an ex? I wasn't at Rhys's place nearly as much as we were at mine. I didn't know if girls randomly dropped by. Good grief, I hope it's not another teapot calling the kettle cow bitch.

Just as the bell rang again, Rhys emerged, dressed and gorgeous. I scooted away to the bedroom to put on some clothes. I heard what sounded like a female voice, all but confirming my suspicions. I brushed my hair and made sure I didn't have dry (or fresh) slobber on my face before stepping out of the room.

I walked down the short hall, hearing whispered conversation. Oh boy.

"Lindsey," Rhys said my name, but he didn't look happy. He looked like he was barely containing...what? Bitterness. Yes, that's it.

The woman's back was to me, but already I knew it wasn't an ex lover. There were a lot of grey streaks in her thin, dark hair which was in a single braid down her back all the way to her butt. She finally turned around as I got close.

"Lindsey, this is my mom, Anne. Mom this is my...very good friend Lindsey."

Ouch.

I reached out to shake her frail hand. Anne smiled at me. Her smile was genuine but her eyes were so haunted that I had to repress a shudder. Besides what looked like a completely wounded soul, Rhys looked a lot like her. I imagined that she was old before her time and that she must have been a knock-out when she was younger.

"Oh, aren't you a pretty thing. I don't mean to intrude," she said in a very soft, musical voice. "I made Rhys some meatballs this morning and wanted to drop it off before...I mean..." She struggled to find the right words.

"You don't have to explain anything to me," I smiled at her. "I wish my mom was around to make me food."

"Is your mother..."

I looked at her, confused for a few seconds before I grasped what she was saying.

"Oh, no!" I rushed. "My mom lives in California. My parents retired there."

"Oh, I've always wanted to go to California," she said quietly, and looked away with her brow furrowed and a frown on her face.

"Mom, you better get home," Rhys said.

She blinked out of the moment she was having and nodded.

"I hope you kids enjoy the meatballs," she said, pulling her jacket tight around her. "Rhys, make sure you make a salad and get a nice loaf of bread to go with it."

She hugged her son, kissed my cheek and quickly left.

"My father is probably out fishing," Rhys said distractedly. "He gets upset when she's not home when he gets there."

I stood stock still, my hands folded in front of me, my eyes locked on Rhys's face. Was he about to confirm my recently acquired suspicions? Was he about to give me a piece of himself that would help complete the puzzle that is Rhys? I held my breath.

He looked at me as if he may divulge something. I felt like it was hanging on the tip of his tongue, but the moment passed. He wasn't going to reveal anything.

I loudly expelled the breath I had been holding, and turned away. My good morning just went to shit.

"I think I'm going to go home for a little bit," I said and started down the hallway to Rhys's bedroom.

"Lindsey," he called after me. "Lindsey!"

Rhys walked into the bedroom, looking irritated.

"Why are you leaving?"

"Where's my other s
hoe?" I spun around in a circle
.

"Lindsey, I hate when you do this shit. You can never just tell me outright what you're really thinking or feeling."

I saw the toe of my shoe peeking out from under Joe's furry fat ass. He was laying on my shoe!

"You have some nerve to talk to me about not revealing my thoughts and feelings," I said, plucking the fat ass cat off of my shoe. "All I know for sure about you is that you
love
to be inside of me."

"Don't toss my cat."

"Even
your
fat ass cat lands on his feet."

"If you want me to say it, I will," he said with a loud, irritated sigh.

"No!" I pointed at him, even though I knew it was rude. I hoped Fat Joe wasn't in the room to see how rude I was being. What kind of example am I? "Don't say it because I want you to, or just to keep me here. I want you to say it because you mean it, because you
feel
it. Don't say it because you feel backed into a corner. It won't mean shit to me."

His gorgeous face was apprehensive as he watched me gather my few belongings.

"Are you coming back for dinner?" He asked, following me to the door.

"No!" I was really having a temper tantrum.

"My mom will be upset that you didn't eat her meatballs," he said.

I paused with my hand on the door.

Okay, so he was going to play that card.

I marched into the kitchen. The meatballs were on the counter in a plastic container. I picked up the whole thing and turned to leave, but Rhys blocked me.

"Whoa! I don't get any of my own mother's meatballs?" He looked mildly amused. I wasn't at all amused.

I opened the container and put the lid on the table. With my bare hand, I dug in and produced two enormous meatballs. I dropped them on the sex table and then turned to an astonished Rhys. He was wearing the grey tee shirt I liked so much. I used it as a napkin, smearing sauce all over the front of it. He stood there, watching me, too shocked to react. What didn't come off on the shirt, I licked off. I recovered the meatballs.

"There," I said. "A pair of balls for you. I never thought I'd have to give you a pair." With that, I stormed out of the apartment.

Chapter Twenty

"Get your ass back here and bring back my meatballs," Rhys said over the phone a few minutes after I left.

"No," I said defiantly.

"You've already ruined my shirt. If I have to come get you and the meatballs, you're going to be sorry."

"I'm shaking in my Nikes."

"You should be."