Capture Me Slowly (Shattered 3)

“I don’t know. You’re so wrong for me.”

He thrust again, as if physically showing that he disagreed. My br**sts bounced against his chest.

“But I don’t want to let go,” I admitted.

I was doing that a lot lately. Saying things out loud that I probably shouldn’t. He said he only felt like he kept me safe when we were joined. All I knew was that feeling Rhys inside of me was the single best thing I’d ever experienced.

This last week, he had moved me into some kind of friend zone where he taught me self-defense and I went about my day just counting down the hours until this mess was over. But now, finally, we were back. The way we should be. The way we were from the beginning.

The way that felt right.

He wasn’t saving me and I wasn’t trying to save him. We were just us. One. Connected. Using the other for support and understanding.

I clung to him tighter.

“I’m here Rhys . . . I’ve got you,” I whispered.

He leaned back just enough to look me in the eyes. A sad smile spread his face as he examined my face.

“That’s my line,” he said.

I shook my head. “Not tonight. Tonight I’m taking care of you. I’m here. And no matter what you want to say or don’t say, no matter what you feel, I’m here. You won’t break me, you don’t have to worry about me. Just let go. Let me have you.”

His mouth landed on mine hard and in that moment, his kiss said everything.

I wondered if Rhys had ever felt like he had a partner, an equal. Maybe he’d never see me that way. But in that moment, he was trying. I felt it in the way his strong grip tightened. The way the cupboard behind me pounded from his fist against it as he took me over and over, no holding back, no gentleness, just using all the power in his big body to unleash everything onto me.

His lust. His pain. His past. I was there to take it. Happily. For the first time feeling like I meant something to someone. I offered them something. It was like I found what I was meant to do.

I was meant to love Rhys.

The word stuck in my brain and made my body hurt and my eyes water. Made my skin buzz and my brain swim. I was on the brink of such intense pleasure and breaking apart at the seams like my bones were nothing more than dried-out pencils being snapped apart.

Again and again he buried himself inside of me. I wrapped my arms and legs even tighter, taking everything. All he had. His skin started slipping against mine from a light sheen of sweat and he wouldn’t give up my mouth. He just kept going. Devouring, drinking, thrusting.

I gave back the best I could but I was being consumed. Body and soul. And there was no going back now.

My skin heated another degree and tingles surged up my legs and burned my core. I was going to come again. Hard and slow, just like Rhys was taking me.

“Rhys,” I whispered his name between kisses.

He released the shelf behind me and used both arms to embrace me so tightly I could barely breathe. But I loved it. Loved all the power surrounding me. Protecting me.

“My love . . .” he muttered and I wasn’t sure I heard him right. But something pinged in my chest in response to the rawness behind the words and my body shot over the edge in one shattering release. My muscles burned from clutching to him so hard.

He hugged me back, his breath heavy against my neck and I felt him shudder and groan as his orgasm slid over him.

We held on to each other for a long time, simply breathing. Coming down from the most incredible thing I’d ever endured.

What should have been quick and dirty counter sex after a round of fighting turned into something much scarier.

I was pretty sure Rhys and I had just made love.

~

I scrambled the eggs, pushing them around in the skillet and zoning out, replaying all the moments of last night. Rhys was still asleep in the bedroom and I thought maybe a change of pace would be good, so I took on the task of breakfast.

He had opened up a little and talked about his past. Which was promising. And me? I felt like my world was painted in new colors I didn’t recognize. Part of me was excited and happy. The other part was confused and terrified.

I had thought the word love. Thought it when picturing Rhys.

Problem was, I didn’t know if it was love because I had nothing to compare it to. I loved Adam and Kate and Megan and Preston, but this was different.

The intensity of my feelings for Rhys was on another scale entirely. It made me more irrational than I already was, but I also felt a little freer. Like who I was, was okay. My past was okay. And my future would be okay. Things weren’t as bleak-looking as they were a few weeks ago. Then again, I hadn’t considered any type of future other than mere survival. But after the trial, things would be up in the air.

What would happen then? I heard soft footfalls from some pretty big feet, then a warm, yummy-smelling male engulfed me.

“Good morning,” he said in a sleep-roughened voice, running his hands along my hips and kissing the back of my neck. I felt his hot skin against my shoulders through my tank top. Shirtless Rhys was the best Rhys.

“I made eggs,” I said, and turned to face him. He didn’t step back, just kept me close and kissed me softly on the lips.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Go sit down, I’ll bring you a plate.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“What? I can be domestic.”

He laughed. “Domestic as a tiger, baby.” He agreed, only not really agreeing. I would have shot him a glare but just then the eggs went from perfectly cooked to overdone, so I took them off the burner and turned off the stove. Giving the eggs a moment to stop crackling, I went to pour Rhys a cup of coffee and spilt it all over the counter instead of in the mug.

“Damn it,” I sighed. He moved to help and I glared his way. “I’ve got it.”

He held up his palms and sat down in the chair with a grin, watching.

I quickly batted at the coffee with some paper towels and put the eggs on a plate. Crap, I forgot meat. I opened the fridge to see what quick choices there were. Bologna was good enough. Taking a slice out and I slapped it on the plate next to the eggs and took that and the mug and set it in front of Rhys.

He looked at the food, then at me and picked up his fork. I didn’t realize I was staring at him until he met my eyes again and took a heaping bite of bologna and eggs.

“Second-best thing I’ve ever tasted,” he said, and smiled.

I frowned. “What is the first best thing?”

His eyes were dark like a storm cloud and slid up my body. “You.”