Page 58 of Unravel Me

In truth, I’d do anything she asked of me. Anything to hear her rasp out my name, anything to make her feel good, anything to see her come undone in my arms.

It was enough to make my cock stand alert, her eyes and hands finding my length.

“Rhett, I want you,” she breathed out, but I shook my head again.

“Not so fast...” I growled, kissing and biting the sensitive skin of her inner thigh while she ran her fingers through my messy hair, gripping me.

She pulls hard on my neck, making me want more, and as I work my way up to her center, she inhales sharply.

“Fuck, Rhett…”

I smile cockily against her core, which is slick just for me. With one hand gripping her thigh, the other cupping her perfect breast, I drag my tongue through her center, getting high on her racing breath.

Holding her steady, I taste her. Audrey’s eyes fall shut, her chest rising quickly, my name echoing off the bathroom walls as she presses herself into my face while I continue devouring her.

I would stay here forever just to hear my name, again and again.

“Rhett, I’m… going…. to… come.”

Audrey shudders, whimpering in my arms as I pull away, kissing her softly on the chest.

“Now I promised to clean you up...” I graze her arm, quickly shed my pants and pull her into the shower with me, wrapping my arms around her from behind while she lets me explore every inch of her again. We made love until the water grew cold, until our panting turned to laughter, until I couldn’t stand any longer. We retired, damp, to the bedroom, to lay the remainder of the evening in bed.

And it didn’t matter what was going on around us, what came before or what would be next.

All I saw is the woman I’m falling madly in love with.

All I see is Audrey.

Chapter thirty-three

Audrey

The next evening comes quickly, my stomach bubbling with nerves as I lay my outfit out on Rhett’s bed. I don’t know how it happened, but I have a few pieces of clothing hanging in his closet. I'm not sure if meeting his family or the fact that I plan on leaving those clothes here frightens me more. Both make this thing between us more real, that’s for sure.

Penny texts me a picture of herself on the balcony with a glass of red wine, wishing me luck this evening, leaving me wishful for my own glass of wine to take the edge off. Unfortunately, Rhett’s fridge is full of domestic beer and a half full bottle of whiskey.

“Okay, the white dress it is, Mabel.” She lifts her eyes to me, laying like a puddle on the floor. I’ve grown used to her always being near, always listening to my random monologue.

There’s no floor length mirror in this house, only one over the antique dresser in the bedroom, so I have to assume this dress still looks good on me. I slip it on, and rip the tags off, throwing them into the trash can. It’s a beautiful white eyelet dress that makes my barely sun kissed skin glow. I pair it with leather sandals and gold hoops. I figure it’s put together but casual enough for this so-called potluck Sunday dinner. I was taught to always dress like you’re about to meet the president, and that type of ideology sticks with you for life.

To combat the summer heat, I clip my hair loosely back, and as I dab a splash of perfume on my neck, the bathroom door cracks open. Rhett enters slowly, our eyes locked in the mirror. A white towel hangs low on his hips, and I hold in the small moan trying to escape my lips.

His stare is too much, so I peel my attention away, adjusting my hair, but Rhett stays standing there, running his hand through his damp locks.

“What?” I ask quietly, turning around and leaning my hips back on the dresser. The room feels smaller than it already is, and my limbs feel buzzy.

He blinks lazily, slightly shaking his head as he moves towards me. “You’re stunning, Audrey.”

The way my name rolls off his tongue makes my skin tingle.

“Oh, this? It’s nothing. But thank you.”

He comes over, boxing me in between the bed and the dresser and I’m too aware that all he has on is a towel.

“I could get used to this; you know?” He breathes on my neck, kissing it gently.

I have an almost irresistible urge to run my fingers down his rippled chest and outline his tattoos with my fingertips. I want to learn the story behind each one, learning another piece of this layered man. A feeling I never had with Jackson. He held me at arm's length, but Rhett holds my heart in the palm of his hands.