My Soul To Keep (Soul Series Book 1) (37 page)

Very, very fast.

Rhyson’s words set my heart free like a stampede of wild notes across a music staff, falling off the lines, running off the page. I’m a composition out of control, without form. Freestyled. Improvised. Unsure of where we’re going, but certain that it’s right. Sure that in the end, it will be a thing of beauty.

“You don’t have to say it.” Rhyson’s uncertainty is an anomaly, like a discordant note, but that’s the look on his face. Not sure. Not sure of me.

“Can I though?” I push my fingers into that glorious mess of hair that never stays tamed for more than five minutes. “Can I say it?”

Rhyson leans back a few more inches, until his arms are straightened, pressing our hips together. Rhyson pushes into the juncture of my thighs, separating them. Parting me like water.

“If you feel it, you can certainly say it, but I don’t want to pressure you.”

“Oh,
now
you don’t want to pressure me, Mr. Ultimatum.” I can laugh now even though his words this afternoon struck fear in my heart. Fear that I would lose him for good.

“Since we’re sharing secrets,” he says, a smile splitting those full lips I’m not sure I can resist much longer. “I was probably bluffing this afternoon, but now we’ll never know.”

“Well, I love you, so it’s a moot point, right?” Any leftover laughter dissolves under the heated intensity of his stare.

“You love me?” he demands, eyes locked with mine.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“I just want to be sure so when we make love you can’t pretend it didn’t happen this time or push me away or say you need time.”

“I’m sorry.” My voice falters. “I was so scared to depend on you. So scared to need you. I was afraid leaning on you would make me weak.”

I want to confess that in some ways, I still am, but I want him too much not to try.

“I know that.” Rhyson kisses my nose and then my lips and then my neck, lighting small fires over every surface of skin he touches. “I knew it then, even though I was so damn frustrated with you. I knew what was behind it. This time, we’re going to be absolutely clear about what this is.”

His fingers nudge the T-shirt I’m wearing up until cool air kisses my breasts in the push-up bra Bristol gave me. Not sure if that was a jab at my small breasts, but I can’t care right now because Rhyson looks at me like I’m a dream.

“The first time we made love was on a pool table.”

“I do recall,” I whisper, propping myself up on my elbows so that our chests almost touch.

“I think we can do better.” Rhyson rolls the cups of my bra down until my nipples peek out, pink and tight with anticipation. “When does your flight leave?”

“In three hours.”

Disappointment settles on his face for a moment, but with one glance at my breasts, his expression changes. Intensifies. Ignites me.

“We’ll have to make do.”

I’m not ready for the slow love he makes to me. The hurried coupling on the pool table exceeded any of my previous experiences, limited though they admittedly were. This deliberate seduction unravels me, starting with his lips at my breasts, tugging and biting and sucking until my head rolls back and forth on his pillow, frantic for a release he keeps just out of reach. He shoves the shirt completely over my head and reaches behind me to undo the clasp of my bra. His heated stare is foreplay, the way his eyes eat at my breasts, a promise of what’s to come.

I want in. I can’t be a spectator with this beautiful man whose desire is a palpable thing lapping at my body. I pull his T-shirt over his head, until his broad shoulders and the lean muscles of his abs are exposed for my touch. I run my fingers over the rungs of muscle in his stomach and brush my fingers over his nipples, over the musical notes and lyrics tattooed around his ribs and sketched over his arms. He sucks in a harsh breath.

“Pep, yes. Touch me.”

My eyes flick to his face, and I love the anticipation there. I reverse our positions until he’s on his back and I can straddle him, feeling decadent with my breasts hanging naked above him. I lean down, suckling at his chest, satisfied by the way he writhes beneath me, as desperate for me as I am for him. His nipple goes tight in my mouth, and I reach down to grip the stiff bulge through his jeans. His head snaps back, exposing the strong muscles of his throat.

“Damn, Pep. You’re gonna have to do something about that.”

Oh, I plan to.

I work the buckle on his belt, scooting down to slide away his jeans and the briefs clinging to the hard muscles of his thighs. My mouth waters at the sight of him, erect and already wet at the tip. I’ve never felt possessive of another person in my entire life, but I know that’s what I feel right now. This is mine.
He
is as much mine as I am his, and without a moment’s hesitation, I lean down and take him in my mouth.

I’ve never done this. Never wanted to. His gasps and groans guide me. I tighten and loosen my lips, play my tongue over him by instinct. His hands set the pace, twisting in my hair as he pumps into my mouth, the tempo at first slow and measured, then building to furious and urgent. My jaw stretches around him, and he’s tangy on my tongue.

He pulls back abruptly, and I’m immediately insecure.

“I did it wrong?” I can’t meet his eyes, thinking of all the groupies who have probably sucked him off in bathroom stalls and behind stages.

He tips up my chin, his eyes searching my face.

“Was that the first time you’ve done that?”

I hesitate, tempted to lie, but unable to in the honesty pressed between our nearly naked bodies.

“Damn, Pep, I hate to see you with experience.” He pulls me up until I’m flush against him. “On second thought, if that’s novice, I can’t
wait
to see you with experience.”

He leans into my ear.

“Do you know how it makes me feel that you’ve never done that to another guy before?”

I shake my head no, and he pulls my chin gently between his fingers.

“Like the luckiest guy in the world.”

“Then why’d you stop me?” I ask, embarrassed but curious.

“Because I want to be inside you.”

His words land on me like hot needles. He scoots to the end of the bed, taking me with him and standing me on my feet. He peels the chinos down, sliding his fingers beneath the tiny strips of lace hugging my hips and pulling down until they puddle around my ankles. His fingers brush across my nipples, tracing the words scripted under my breast and down the muscles in my stomach, lingering on the belly ring.

“You remember that day at Grady’s when I was teaching you that breathing exercise?”

I can only nod dumbly at this point because my body is livid. Passion leaks down the inside of my thighs. My fingers tremble with the strain of not touching him.

“I thought this belly ring was so damn sexy, and I thought about doing this for days after.”

He leans forward, flicking his tongue into my belly button, curling it around the metal piercing the flesh. He sits back, his eyes making a slow journey from the tips of my toes past my legs over my hips and breasts until they rest on my face. I quiver under that look because it’s not just lust. There’s so much love in his eyes it almost hurts me to look into them. These moments feel so perfect they frighten me. In my experience, nothing perfect lasts, and I want this to swell into infinity.

He lifts one of my legs, pulling it over his shoulder, and buries his head between my thighs, licking at the juices trickling out of me. Tonguing me. Biting me. Driving me out of my mind with the way his mouth worships me. The explosion starts low in my belly and lights a path through every fiber of my body, like a lit stick of dynamite chasing fire over my skin and through my muscles and nerves, until I slump against his mouth still working between my legs. I clutch his head, tugging with numb fingers at his thick hair. He must know my knees are trembling and on the verge of collapse because he lays me down gently on the bed. In a daze, I hear him sliding on a condom.

“You’re on the pill?” Passion strains his voice, harshening it in the silence of the room.

“No, I’m not on anything,” I whisper. “I just . . . since I moved, I just haven’t . . .”

“We need to fix that soon. I want you raw, Pep.”

He pushes into my tightness slowly and carefully. My body remembers this. This sense of being so full I’m on the verge of pain, but dragged back by unfathomable pleasure. Pleasure that turns my mind to mush and drops my mouth open on a gasp. He pushes my leg back, holding my knee against my shoulder. The other leg I wrap around his thigh, twisting us together, opening myself up wide for him. He wastes no time pushing in deeper until I’m sure there is no farther he can go. I feel his knee behind my thigh, finding leverage in the soft mattress to press deeper and harder, and my hips keep tempo with the furious pace he sets. The headboard knocks wildly and loudly into the wall with every thrust, and the sound of it drives me higher and madder for him.

Another orgasm gives birth to a scream that bursts past my lips. He immediately covers my mouth with his, kissing the sounds into silence. He buries an elongated groan in my hair. His hands grip my butt, only intensifying the pleasure. We both go still, holding each other and whispering words of love and adoration.

And we take time. Time to explore each other’s bodies. Time for him to tell me my small breasts are a perfect mouthful, and that he loves the prayer wrapping around my body. I sight-read the music of his tattoos—a patch of Bach on his ribs, Chopin and Beethoven on his back. Rachmaninoff on one shoulder, and Mozart on the other. His chest he keeps clear because he’s waiting for the song that belongs on his heart. It may not be visible to the naked eye, but he’s written a song on my heart tonight, and I’m afraid the ink’s indelible.

SO I’M HERE ON THE SET
of the music video Kai’s doing. Stop me at the part where that’s a bad idea. Oh. I already passed it?

Yeah.

In my defense, I like Luke, but I don’t trust his people. Specifically, John Malcolm, the mastermind behind
Total Package
, is a bottom feeding, manipulative, ruthless bloodsucker who never hesitates to take advantage of other people’s talent to further his own ends.

Him within ten feet of Kai makes me break out in hives because one thing he does have going for him is an exceptional eye for talent. That being said, I made sure things were settled at the hospital with my dad and promised to return soon. He’s speaking now, and I have to admit, he does seem sincere in his desire to repair our relationship. Maybe Kai’s right. Maybe the brush with death changed something in him so drastically that his priorities have shifted. Maybe a real relationship with me, not based on profit and gain, is something he will work for. Grady seems to think so.

My mother didn’t have a heart attack, and I’m not sure she’s had a change of heart, but she wants me to think so. Bristol calls me cynical. Oh, the irony. She’d double-check Mother Theresa’s credentials, so don’t get me started on just how jaded my twin sister is. She wasn’t pleased about me flying back to L.A., but she’ll have to get used to Kai being a priority for me. I haven’t actually told her anything about us yet, though it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure how gone I am for Kai.

Bristol knows something’s up, but I’m not ready to talk about it with her. One, I don’t want to hear her doubts or her skepticism about Kai. If she had any clue how hard I’ve had to fight to get this girl to take anything from me, she wouldn’t be so worried about Kai’s potential opportunism. Two, what Kai and I shared in my parents’ house that night will go down as one of the best nights of my life. And I’ve had some great nights. What we have, what we’ve built, isn’t something I want to share with the world yet. Not even with my inner circle.

“Rhyson, we didn’t know you were coming,” Delaney, Luke’s publicist, says to me by the Craft services table loaded with food for the break. “Let me get you a badge. They’re being kind of tight today.”

It’s been a while since anyone offered me a badge. You reach a point where identifying yourself feels redundant because everyone knows who you are. I’ve been there for a long time and take it for granted.