Refrain (Soul Series Book 3) (5 page)

I WAKE WHEN IT’S NOT YET
day. Not quite dawn. Today is my birthday. I was born at 5:10 a.m. I wonder if the sky outside Glory Falls Memorial Hospital looked like this to my mother. Painted with promise and not yet bright with morning. Maybe that’s the reason dawn was her favorite time of day. Maybe
I
was the reason.

Grief is just as much about holding on as it is about letting go. I haven’t felt that gut-deep hurt when I think of Mama in weeks. Perversely, I miss it. That pain keeping her memory so close to the surface of my life made forgetting her, forgetting even one moment we had together, impossible. Some days I feel guilty about the happiness I’ve found. Here with Rhyson. In my career. In my life, but then I realize it’s all she ever wanted for me. To live my dreams with a man who loved me deeply and truly. Something she ultimately didn’t have.

We never closed the drapes last night. There’s now just enough light intruding through the window for me to see the aggressive angles and the elegant masculinity of Rhyson’s profile. He’s sprawled beside me, his dark hair messy on the pillow and spilling into his eyes. The sheet has slipped low, baring the strong arms and shoulders, inked in a vivid mosaic of musical notes and lyrics. I can see the firm, muscled curve of his ass. Red faintly stripes the tanned skin where my nails scored him, urging him deeper into my body. The memory of riding him last night whirs a storm cloud in my core. Last night and the promise of more this morning.

If he ever wakes up.

Geesh, he’s the one who’s been living on East coast time for the last week. You’d think he’d be up well before me, but his body’s clock seems to be adjusting just fine to this coast, and he’s fast asleep. And I’ve been awake for what feels like ages.

It’s not excitement about my birthday that has me awake so early. Something keeps bothering me. Like I’ve forgotten something. Neglected something. Left something undone. I’ve felt that way for days, but if my subconscious knows what it is, it’s not revealing it to me.

With a small sigh, I turn my attention back to the iPad in my lap. I haven’t picked it up in weeks. Before I fell asleep in the bath, I was reading the script Bristol left. Now that it’s a soggy, ruined mess, I opened her email to continue reading the soft copy she sent. The script’s good. Really good. I’m not sure
I’m
good enough to play the supporting role the director has in mind for me. Sure, I took theater in high school and starred in a few school plays, but is that enough to prepare me? I haven’t even started acting classes yet.

My inbox was overflowing with unopened emails. I’ll go through them all later, but Bristol’s were right on top. I’m refocusing on the script when a warm hand, tipped with a musician’s calluses, strokes my thigh under the sheet. I fight the shiver my body involuntarily surrenders, keeping my eyes focused on the tablet. When his fingers slip over my knee, tugging until my legs stretch open, I still don’t acknowledge him. I don’t react when his head disappears under the sheet. It’s only when I feel the first long swipe of his tongue that I . . .

“Holy crap,” I whisper, tossing the tablet to the thick rug so I can grip the headboard with one hand and slide the other under the covers to fist his silky hair. His head bobs under the sheet with a thorough exploration, biting my lips, licking in the crevices, sucking my clit until I’m saturated. I’m so close. Oh, God, I’m gonna come.

But then he stops.

He pokes his head out from under the sheet, lips shiny and wet, a wide, devilish grin hanging between his lean cheeks.

“That’ll teach you to ignore me.” He laughs at the evil eye I give him and slides up my body until he’s right above me, carrying my scent on his lips.

“Happy Birthday, baby.” He drops a kiss on my mouth before scooting up and propping his shoulders against our tufted headboard. Even in my unfulfilled state I can’t help but smile at him. He’s home.

“Thank you for making it home in time.” I gesture to the wildflowers in the vase by the bed. “And for those. They’re beautiful.”

“I never pegged you as a flowers kind of girl.” He gives me a searching look like he’s trying to figure out if I’m lying about liking them.

“Never have been.” I lean over to smell the flowers. “But I love anything you give me.”

His eyes go softer before he leans in and whispers across my lips.

“You keep making me fall in love with you over and over and over. When does it stop?”

“It won’t stop.”

I drop my head to his shoulder and run my hand over his chest and down the muscled rung of abs. He pulls my head deeper into his neck, sniffing my hair and leaving a kiss on top.

“I missed waking up with you,” I confess, like he didn’t already know.

“You did?” The morning huskiness of his voice is so sexy. That’s the first thing I missed.

“When you wake up, you’re relaxed and open in a way I don’t see at any other time of the day.”

“Too much crap to do as soon as I’m out of bed,” he mutters, scraping a hand over his sleep-mussed hair.

“Yeah, but I get to see it. I get to see you that way, and I think I’m the only one.”

“That’s because I save the best parts of myself for you. The mornings are for you.” He angles his head until he’s poised over my lips. “And you get them for the rest of our lives.”

He takes my lips in a slow claiming, sliding his fingers into my hair and licking deeply into my mouth. He moans, or maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s a sound we make together. I slow the kiss until it’s just a breath between our lips because I want to tell him something before I forget.

“Rhys, speaking of the rest of our lives.” I pull back just enough to study his face. “When Chip interviewed you, he asked if you heard wedding bells.”

Something flares in his eyes, but it comes and goes so quickly I don’t have time to process it. I force myself to say what I’ve been thinking since the
After Dark
interview.

“I know we said a lot of things in Bora Bora.”

“Which things do you mean, Pep?” The corners of his eyes crinkle with his grin. “Because we did say a lot of things. Like that one time you said, ‘Oh, God. Right there, Rhyson. That’s it. Yes! Oh, God, yes!’”

A blush scalds my cheeks.

“And I do recall you saying, ‘Don’t you stop. Don’t you dare stop, Rhyson. I’m so close.’” He looks at me with false innocence. “You mean those things?”

“I love you,” I grit out, fighting back my grin. “But I can’t stand you.”

Laughter shakes his shoulder against me. I punch him lightly before soldiering on.

“I was thinking more of what we said about . . . you know.” I dip my head so my hair partially hides my face from him. “About getting married and having a wedding and all of that stuff.”

Rhyson’s eyes narrow before he speaks.

“You don’t want that anymore?” he asks softly, carefully.

“Of course, I do.” I smooth my hands over the sheets covering my knees. “I just . . . well, I just wanted to tell you I know building Prodigy takes so much time and effort and energy. I understand that. I don’t want you to feel any pressure for that stuff to happen right away. That’s all.”

It’s really quiet, and even though I can’t make myself look at him, I feel the weight of his eyes on me. He uses a finger under my chin to turn my head until I can’t avoid his eyes.

“Kai, I feel no pressure to do anything.”

My stomach free-falls a little. He feels
no
pressure? Well, dang . . .

“I don’t feel pressure to make you my wife,” he continues, “Because in my mind, you already are.”

Rhyson has this way of allaying my fears and easing my insecurities just by loving me. By telling me what’s in his heart. He always seems to have just what I need, whether it’s a word or a look. All the doubts that have been wound so tightly inside of me loosen until I’m smiling because I’m sure. I’m sure of him, of us. He smiles back, drops a kiss on my head, and tosses off the sheet, walking tall and naked toward the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” I try not to whine at his abrupt exit, but I probably fail.

“Appointments,” he yells. “Most of the day.”

But it’s my birthday
, I wail in my head.

I’ve never wanted much on my birthdays, but with Rhyson being gone for over a week, I hoped I’d at least have
him
. I don’t need gifts or anything. Just him. And now the only thing I want today is walking out on me. The sound of the shower deflates me.

Rhyson pops his head back into the bedroom, and I fix my face, pulling my pouty bottom lip into a smile.

“Hey, I’m sorry about today,” he says. “It’s unavoidable stuff, but I want to take you out to dinner for your birthday. Would that be okay?”

We never go out. Not really.

“Like on a date?” I ask, my smile wide and hopeful.

“Yep, like on a date.” He widens his eyes. “And no moustaches or disguises!”

“Now that’s just crazy talk.” I laugh and stretch to retrieve my iPad from the floor. “I’d love that. Thank you.”

“What’s that you’re reading?” Rhyson steps back into the room. He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms over his broad chest. I have a clear view of the rest of his naked body. The golden slope of his shoulders and the flex of muscles in his stomach. The chiseled slits at his hips. My mouth waters because as exhausted as we were last night, we only made love once before dragging our tired bodies to bed. I’m so hungry for his dick, I’m surprised my stomach doesn’t growl.

“Pep? I said what are you reading?”

He keeps a straight face, but I see that glint in his eye. He knows exactly how he’s distracting me, especially since I still feel phantom swipes of his tongue between my legs before he abandoned me. I refuse to give him the satisfaction.

“It’s a script Bristol wants me to audition for.” I clear my throat and jerk my eyes away from the cock that is already half erect between the power of his thighs. “She says the director asked for me specifically.”

“What kind of part?” Rhyson scowls. “Is there nudity?

I consider torturing him before shaking my head.

“No.” I grin and draw my knees up to my chin, setting the tablet aside. “Not for my part. Not for me.”

“Damn right not for you,” he mumbles.

“You’re such a caveman.” I laugh and change the subject before he starts digging too deeply into it, and finds some excuse he doesn’t want me to audition. “Where are we going tonight? How should I dress?”

“It’s a surprise.” He rubs his chin as if thinking about it. “Hmmm. How should you dress? Dress in such a way that when I see you, I’ll immediately want to keep you here at home and fuck you all night. Make me regret having to leave the house.”

I’m gonna need reinforcements. In my head I’m already formulating my pleas to Ella for assistance.

“I think I can do that.”

“Good.” He turns toward the bathroom, giving me an unobstructed view of that firm ass. “I need to get out of here. So much to do today.”

Disappointment returns, turning my mouth down a little at the corners.

“Hey, Pep,” he calls from the bathroom.

“Yeah?” I try to keep my voice light so he doesn’t know how much I want him to stay with me in bed for the next eight hours.

“If you hurry up, you can suck my dick and then I’ll eat you out and bend you over the counter and fuck you from behind.”

I’m tripping over the sheets to get out of bed almost before his last word hits the air.

“Coming!”

“MISSION ACCOMPLISHED?” I ASK ELLA, GLIDING
my hands over the shantung silk plastered to my body.

“Oh, hell yeah.” Ella’s wicked, satisfied laugh makes me smile. “He’ll definitely want to stay home when he sees you in this dress.”

I view myself objectively in the guest bathroom’s full-length mirror. Ella and I have been cloistered in here for the last two hours. I didn’t want Rhyson to see me until the last minute. I know it’s just a date, but it feels special. Not just because it’s my birthday. We’re not party people. We’re as content . . . no,
more
content . . . staying home. Or going to the studio. Or to the beach. But a date? Dinner? Like normal people? Yeah, I’m excited.

Ella thought it would be fun to play up my Asian ancestry. The shantung silk dress she brought over is the color of cherries and has black piping. It’s sleeveless with a stiff mandarin collar framing my neck. High side slits extend from the mid-calf hem to a few inches above my knees, flashing my thighs with each step. The material clings to my every dip and curve. Ella insisted I ditch the bra, so my breasts strain against the tight material. The rear view provides the dress’s true drama. A tiny onyx button clasps at my nape, and from there the dress cuts out, laying my entire back bare. The dress lovingly exaggerates and cups the rounded curve of my butt.