Weightless (20 page)

“No, Natalie.” He grabbed my arms and turned me back toward the mirror. Rhodes was standing behind me, tall and picturesque as always. His hair had dried naturally and had a soft wave to it. His defined jaw matched the cut muscles that ran along the arms he still had holding me firmly in place and his electric eyes were hard on mine. “Tell me what you see.”

“I see you.”

“Don’t look at me,” he commanded, his voice firm. “Look at yourself and tell me what you see.”

I sighed, but let my eyes fall from his to my own. They were a dull brown, no life sparkling behind them. My skin was oily, my face bland without any makeup on, and my dark blonde hair was lying almost pin-straight over my shoulders. I swallowed as I let my eyes fall further. It wasn’t that I didn’t ever look in a mirror — I saw myself in the gym mirrors and when I was anywhere in public — but I never studied myself this way. I could see that I’d lost weight, but I was still far from looking anything like Willow or Shay. I had curves. I had large breasts, thick thighs, and big hips.

“I see everything I still need to work on and everything I don’t want to see when I look in the mirror five years from now.”

Rhodes breathed heavily behind me, but he didn’t say anything. I watched his face in the mirror and saw a mixture of emotions cross it — from pain to confusion and everything in-between. Slowly, he moved to my left, staring intently at me as I still faced the mirror.

“Show me.”

The way he said those two words made me shiver. He commanded attention, he always did.

“Show you what?”

Rhodes swallowed, stepping a little closer. “Show me what you hate.”

I let out a shaky breath, my eyes roaming all the imperfections of my body. “Well, my stomach—”

“
Show
me,” Rhodes interrupted. “Don’t tell me.”

Swallowing, I lifted my hands from where they rested at my sides and gently touched my stomach. I knew it was smaller than just a few weeks before, but it was still thick — there was still a roll when I sat down and I had muffin tops that fell over my tiny shorts.

“Lift your arms.”

I looked at Rhodes questioningly, but the way he stared back — his eyes intense and determined — I didn’t question him out loud. I lifted my arms above my head and waited. Rhodes’ throat constricted and he seemed to be battling with what he was about to do, but before I had the chance to think more of it he grabbed the hem of my shirt and carefully pulled it up and over my head.

My heart accelerated from a slow trot to a full-throttled gallop. He was stripping me. Rhodes was stripping off my clothes.

Slowly, he bent to his knees and glanced up at me. I could never forget the way he looked kneeling below me — vulnerable, yet still so strong. He pulled his eyes from mine long enough to wrap his large hands around my waist and press his lips gently to my stomach.

And I remember it hurt that first time he touched me. Not because it was painful, but because it was everything but. It hurt from somewhere deep inside my gut that told me I would never get to have him, to keep him, or to feel the way I felt with his hands on me with anyone else for as long as I tried.

“Where else?”

His eyes were lifted to mine, and though my heart was still racing, I somehow managed to move my hand to touch the upper part of my opposite arm. Rhodes stood, grabbed my hand in his to straighten my arm, and then kissed where I had just touched.

I was catching on.

My breaths were ragged, but I moved my hand to the next area without him asking. I didn’t know if I was supposed to be looking in the mirror, but I couldn’t pull my eyes from the sight of him. He bent and moved with each new place I touched, following it with a sensual kiss.

My breath caught in my throat as I touched my inner thighs. I couldn’t believe I was doing this, that I was standing in front of a mirror practically naked with Rhodes touching me in ways I’d never imagined. He licked his lips before falling back to his knees and tucking his fingertips into the top band of my shorts. I gasped at the touch, and he inched the fabric off my hips slowly before letting them drop to the floor.

I was standing in front of Rhodes in nothing but my bra and panties, and though I felt like squirming, hiding, or running away, the weight of his gaze held me locked in place. His eyes flicked to mine and he kept them there as he leaned in to press his lips to my left thigh. I couldn’t help it, I moaned low under my breath and he gripped the back of my legs tighter as his lips moved to the other thigh.

When he looked back up at me waiting for the next direction, I swallowed. I knew it was a bold move, but I felt alive in that moment — completely unstoppable. With shaking fingertips, I reached up and just barely touched my lips.

Rhodes lifted himself from the ground, towering over me once again. I could see how I was affecting him through the thin fabric of his gym shorts and my breaths came harder. I was turning him on. It seemed impossible and yet it was true, which only fueled my confidence. “You hate your lips?”

I didn’t answer. I
didn’t
hate my lips. In fact, they were probably what I loved most about my body. They were plump, a deep pink, and I religiously used lip balm to keep them soft. Rhodes knew we’d moved past touching what I hated about my body. I wanted him to kiss me. I didn’t know if I should want that, if I could even allow myself to want it, but I didn’t fight it in that moment. I just waited.

Rhodes bit the inside of his bottom lip, his brows pulled down low over his bright emerald eyes. They flicked to my mouth and back to my eyes several times, as if he were debating the same thoughts I had just had.

“Natalie,” he warned, but at the same time his hands moved to cradle my face between them. My lips parted and I let my eyes fall to his. I desperately wanted to taste him.

“Rhodes,” I breathed back, my hands finding his waist. I let them rest there, still waiting. Rhodes expelled a breath, shook his head just barely enough for me to notice, and then closed the space between us.

Heat is never a sign of something good. It’s an indicator that you’re burning, a symptom of an infection, a side effect of fever. But the heat I felt when Rhodes touched me — when he kissed me — was the best sensation. It was white hot and electrifying. It seared my skin and blazed through every inch of my body. It burned me. It
scarred
me. But I loved it.

My hands fisted in his t-shirt as he deepened the kiss. His tongue slipped inside to massage mine and I moaned into his mouth, making the erection in his shorts grow even more noticeable. Hastily, he pulled me back onto the guest bed and we fell into the soft goose down comforter, the fabric swallowing us like a cloud.

Rhodes’ hands explored my body as he kissed me. He sucked my bottom lip between his teeth before moving to my neck and across my collarbone. I was breathing so hard I was sure I’d hyperventilate. I’d never experienced a kiss so passionate, so laced with desire. His hand was rough, callused from the weight bars as he dragged it down my neck, over my breast, across my stomach and finally rested just above the hem of my panties. I squirmed beneath his touch, anxious to feel his hand just a fraction lower.

Rhodes sighed, stilling his movements and resting his forehead against mine. “There’s so much I want to do to you, Bug. I’m fighting against it right now.”

“Don’t,” I breathed.

“You don’t understand.”

I ran my fingers through his hair and pulled him closer, kissing him with more confidence than I knew I had. “So help me. Help me understand.”

He groaned against my lips and I could feel him pressed against my thigh. He was so hard, so ready, and I was physically uncomfortable waiting for him to deliver.

“Not tonight,” he finally said, sighing. “Tonight is about you seeing that you’re beautiful. Do you hear me?” He waited for me to lift my eyes to his. Suddenly, the confidence I had before was completely gone. “You are, Natalie.”

I nodded, but I wasn’t sure I really believed his words. I was cute, maybe — and even that was pushing it. But when Rhodes brought his lips back down on mine and kissed me like it pained him not to, I thought maybe there was something he saw that I just didn’t.

We stayed tangled in the sheets for hours, but all we did was kiss. His hands explored my body and I explored his. He never stripped down with me, and I never reached to pull my clothes back on. We buried ourselves under the sheets, making us a hot, sweaty mixture of lips, breaths, and moans.

Now I understood what he meant when he said
or what
earlier, because this was far from how you treated someone who was just a friend.

Sometime around midnight, Rhodes paused. “I should go.”

I was breathless, cheeks heated, hair a mess as I stared up at him. I didn’t want him to go, but I couldn’t ask him to stay — not when he’d already given me so much that night.

“Okay. Let me walk you out.”

After I dressed and fixed my hair back into a bun the best I could, I walked him to the front door, mind racing. I had so many questions, but none of them would form on my tongue.

“I wish you didn’t have to go.”

He smiled a lazy smile, his hair still mussed from our activities. “You’ll see me Thursday.”

My heart sank. In a way, he was telling me that I wouldn’t see him on my day off from training tomorrow. When he noticed my face fall, he pulled me into him for a long, soft kiss, sliding his index finger to rest on the inside of my wrist like he had the first time he told me he felt my heart. It was an unspoken promise, but he broke away too quickly for my liking and jogged off to his bike. It took him less than a minute to fasten his helmet and then he was gone.

I closed the door in a daze. I felt numb, yet every nerve in my body had been awakened. I stumbled to the couch and fell against the cool leather cushions, though they did nothing to stunt the heat growing inside me. I could still feel Rhodes pressed against me. I could feel his lips on mine. Something deep in my gut told me I should be scared, that I should worry about what was happening between us. And, though I wanted to ignore it, a small part of me thought of Mason in that moment. I thought of how different it was to kiss him and wondered what he would feel if he knew another man had kissed me the way Rhodes just had.

A smile spread across my face and I covered my eyes with my hands, letting out a short squeal. I refused to overthink it. At the end of the day, no matter what was to come, I had enjoyed it.

It was the best damn kiss of my life.

I was a mess the next day. I felt elated, but mostly sick, and I barely ate — which was a new sensation for me since I usually turned to eating when I was overly emotional. When I was with Rhodes the night before, everything felt right — but the moment he left, the uneasiness set in. I second-guessed everything, wondering what version of Rhodes I would get the next time I saw him. The more I thought about how quickly he had left the night before, the more worried I became. Was he going to be with another woman? A
client
? The thought crippled me, which also terrified me, because I felt so intensely for him in such a short span of time.

And what if he was just trying to get away from me? What if he changed his mind? What if he didn’t want me the way I wanted him?

I watched episodes of
Lost
and worried myself with questions I couldn’t answer the entire day. Somehow, the euphoria I’d felt after his lips left mine the night before was replaced by this sickening realization that it could have meant nothing. I had a pit in my heart that told me I would walk into the gym the next day and he would be gone. Or worse, there — but not in the way I wanted him to be.

Then, just as those feelings would take over, I would sit up in shock at the fact that I wanted him. I
wanted
Rhodes. I wasn’t sure exactly what I wanted from him, but I knew it was more than just a training session at the gym five days a week. Mason was still in my head, too — which only complicated things. I was a mess, and without my mom or Willow to talk to, I was sure I’d go mad.

Dressing in one of the new workout outfits Mom and I had purchased, I tried to hold my chin high as I strode into the country club that Thursday.

I saw him before he saw me.

He was lying on a weightlifting bench, his strong legs braced on either side, the muscles of his arms tightening and releasing as he bench pressed more than I weighed. No one was spotting him, but he made it look so effortless — as if he didn’t need help and never would.