Connected (Twists of Fate #1) (16 page)

He chuckled.
I’m glad you still talk to me out loud.

Her brow contracted. “Why’s that?”

“Because then I can follow the sound of your voice.”

Addison jolted straight up, whipping around to see Rhys’ larger-than-life frame filling the doorway.

Her heart thundered, her breath seized. “Rhys?”

His smile was blinding. Brilliant. Beautiful.

“Hey, baby.”

Addison couldn’t get to Rhys quick enough, and yet she’d never moved so damned fast in her life, reaching him in half-a-tick to throw her arms around his thick neck. He snatched her off her tip-toes, gripping her hips with his long fingers, wrapping her around his hard body.

Their mouths fused and their tongues battled for supremacy as her hands roamed over the muscled landscape. Sculpted, broad chest. Hard, tattooed arms. Solid, strong shoulders. Rippled, arching back.

Was he real? Could Rhys really be there, in her arms, firm body pressed against hers, dominating her with his presence? Was she delusional?

She had to be.

As his hands traveled north to cup her breasts, rubbing his thumb over her tight nipples, she decided she didn’t care. If she was crazy, then pack her bags and commit her to the nearest nuthouse where she’d happily live out her days.

You’re not crazy. I’m here, touching you, holding you.

She heard his voice in her head as his mouth continued to take hers. It was a total possession. He consumed all her senses.

Breaking away for a breath, her lips skittered to the side to drag his earlobe between her teeth.

A growl rumbled in his chest.
And now, I’m going to have you.

She whimpered a wordless assent as his tongue trailed across her neck.

Jesus, you taste so damned good.

“Bedroom. Now. Behind you.” Her commands came out on choppy breaths as she dropped to her feet, tugging his tee shirt up and away.

She began yanking her own shirt off as his hands gripped her hips, backing her into the darkened bedroom. When they passed through the doorframe, she slapped at the light switch, the dim bedside lamps coming to life.

Rhys looked at her curiously, a smile playing at the corners of his delicious mouth.

“I want to see you,” she said, giving him a light shove towards the bed.

His beautiful blue eyes burned with desire as he let her take control. “Shit. That’s soooo hot.”

Giving a throaty chuckle, she moved in, tracing her fingers around the designs inked into his skin as they trailed down. Down. She lifted to her toes, nipping his lower lip as she fondled his erection through his jeans. She dragged the heel of her hand across him, caressing him, owning him.

He was hers.

In a flash the roles reversed and Addison found herself flying onto the bed, a six-foot-two giant launching after her. She squealed in delight as she rolled to the side, but was caught around the waist by one very determined man.

With pull and a tug her pants and underwear were a thing of the past. With a flick of his fingers, her bra was history.

His mouth slammed into hers and their tongues dueled it out, exploring and slicking together. Her fingers dug into this spiky black hair as he wiggled out of his jeans and boxer briefs, cursing lightly inside her head as he tried to rush but not lose contact while doing so.

When he was finally free of the restricting denim, his hands flew up to squeeze her full breasts. He ground his hips into hers. She gasped, arching into him, her body undulating under his, eager for him to take her.

He broke off the kiss to dip his head down, his lips encasing her stiff nipple in a wet warmth.

Fierce in his possession, but gentle enough in his touch, he licked, sucked, nipped and tugged, first one side and then the other. The man was the perfect mix of loving and tender, primal and viral.

And skilled. Oh, he was skilled.

She couldn’t take it anymore. Her body thrummed with the urgency of her passion, her belly in tight knots of need. She squeezed her eyes closed and reached out to him in her mind, mentally running her mouth down the length of his body to where he’d want her the most. A flick of her tongue had him physically seizing and a slow, wet caress had him moaning out loud.

Rhys grabbed her shoulders to line up their bodies, and roared as he thrust inside. Her body sang in raw pleasure. Their eyes locked for an instant before he buried his face in her hair, a litany of curses whispering in her ear as he rocked them towards a blissful oblivion.

He hooked her leg under his arm as he sought out the deepest recesses of her body, and she gripped his shoulders, holding on for dear life as every molecule in her being threatened to go nuclear. She locked down around him as her world shattered, and he followed soon after, his neck straining, head thrown back.

Rhys’ weight collapsed on top of her, but he quickly shifted to the side to cradle her in his arms. She pressed her mouth to his throat, and felt his thundering pulse under her lips. She smiled with satisfaction, knowing she was the cause.

She did that.

That you did, baby.

They snuggled in and let their breathing slow, languidly dozing as their bodies recovered. It wasn’t until Addison could form more than a solitary coherent thought that she finally began to stir. And once those thoughts got going, they coalesced, one linking right into another.

She wrapped herself tighter around Rhys’ side, tangling their legs and arms together.

“Rhys?”

“M’hmm.”

She smiled at his satiated tone, cuddled closer. “What happened? You’re…alive?”

“Yeah, baby. I’m alive.” He trailed his fingertips up and down her back. “That pulling sensation I felt…that was my body.”

She gasped. All this time he’d been alive?

“Yup,” he said, answering the unspoken question in her thoughts.

That was going to take some getting used to.

He chuckled. “I was inside you during my death, and now, in life. We are as connected as we ever were, sweetheart.” His thoughts sobered and she sensed the wariness. “Are you okay with that?”

Angling her head up, she kissed his jaw and let him feel every ounce of her love. “I’d have it no other way. I can’t believe I get the best of both worlds. With you.” He tipped his head down and took her mouth. His lips commanded her full attention and her body sparked in response.

“Whoa. Wait.” She was going to get some answers first.

He laughed, pulling her against his chest, and resumed stroking a lazy trail across her spine.

“All right. Let me start at the beginning.

“After the plane crashed, I crawled out of the wreckage into some wooded area. I wandered a bit trying to get steady on my feet, and the last thing I fucking remember is seeing the ground rise up to met me. Everything went ass-end dark after that.

“Next thing I know, I’m looking at you in the afterlife, or wherever. I latched on and you know the rest.”

“And when you woke up?” she asked.

“I woke up in a hospital in Australia. And I was perfectly fine. Apparently I was in a coma the entire time I’d been there, but other than some light trauma which I’d healed from by that point, there wasn’t one goddamned thing wrong with me.” He laughed good-heartedly. “You should’ve seen them. The doctors, I mean. I was their little medical mystery. There was no reason for me to stay in a coma, and what’s more, my muscles didn’t atrophy and my brain activity rarely slowed. My body was functioning as if I were living a normal, healthy life. They fucking freaked when I woke up.” She smiled at the humor in his voice, and then saw images of what he had seen when he came to—Rhys ripping off little suction cup things hooking him to monitors, sliding out the IV

in the top of his hand, jumping to his feet and then quickly covering his nakedness with an uncharacteristic flush to his cheeks.

“You were actually
shy
about flashing the nurses,” she said with a little snort.

“Hey. I’m a one-woman kinda man, and I’m spoken for.” He took her hand and slid it down, grinding his hardening length into her palm. “No one but you gets to see the goods from now on.”

Addison’s breath caught at the connect, then groaned along with Rhys as she wrapped her fingers around him, giving a light tug. Every cell in her body sparked to life, her blood rolling into a steady simmer.

Wait a minute. Wait a minute. She shook her head and forced her hand open.

Rhys moaned. “Come on, baby. I need you.”

She moved her hand to grasp his hip, hoping that would help maintain some sort of restraint on her end. “And you’ll have me. As many times as you want. I just want to wrap my mind around this first.” She nuzzled her face into his neck. “You died, Rhys. You must’ve. Otherwise we never would have met.”

“The hospital said some locals from the Daintree Rainforest brought me in. Somehow we crashed in Australia, not New Guinea.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I
did
die, but they brought me back. Well, they brought my body back. The rest of me was with you.” His hand ran up her ribs slowly, purposefully. She slapped hers over his to stop its progress.

“But they found a body…”

“It must have been Masamba’s,” he murmured, wiggling his hand out from under hers.

The pieces snapped into place. The hippy-guy in the plane.

“Yeah, him.” Rhys fingers circled his target, trailing across the side of her breast, teasing her.

She gave over to the feel of him next to her, touching her, on her body and in her head.

Yesss. Now you’re with me,
he growled, rolling them so he pinned her down with his broad body, his rock hard erection pressing against her belly.

Addison made a purring sound as she latched onto his throat, her hands circling around to his ass. She thrust up against him, savoring the sound of his gasp.

“I’m never letting you go, Rhys. Never again.” Tilting her head, she sought out his mouth, and ignited with pure pleasure as his lips met hers.

My Addison. My heart. Body and mind, you’re mine. I’m going to love you for the rest of my
life, baby. And every moment thereafter.

###

Coming soon…

TWISTED

a Twists of Fate novel (Book 2)

I'm going to tell you a story about two polar opposites—cynical versus optimistic, edgy
versus conservative—coming together and changing the other in ways they couldn’t have
imagined possible, despite the cards stacked against them.

All right. So, admittedly, I was the one doing the stacking, but what can I say? I can’t seem
to keep my nose out of…well, anything. But you can point all those accusing fingers at my
mothers for this particular personality defect. Bloody hell, they nurtured it!

I suppose now would be the perfect opportunity for me to introduce myself, wouldn’t you
agree?

Fate’s the name. Some call me Fate, some call me Destiny, but if you could refrain from
utilizing the second moniker, I’d much appreciate it. It tends to piss off my sister—the one who is
truly endowed with that namesake.

We are the bastard twins of the Moirae. And we grew up to become tinkerers of the heart
and screwers of the destinies.

Our mothers must be so proud.

In all honesty—and I’m nothing if not honest—I tend to enjoy our endeavors moreso than
my sister. I see my role as paramount in the lives of the people around me. In the clutches of my
vicarious whims (my sister’s words, not mine), I make their lives a helluva lot more interesting
than it would be otherwise. I am not a god or a deity; there is only so much control I have. But
I’ll always take the risk on their behalf, and compel them to follow my lead.

Destiny says I partake of too many indulgences, that I enjoy having fun at another’s
expense, that I am simply seeking ways to spice up my eternal existence. And you know what I
have to say to that?

Well…perhaps.

However, in my defense, I am also spicing up the lives of those around me. And that truth,
no mortal (nor irritating entity) can deny. Not even my tenacious sister.

I would love to keep my sister’s involvement out of this, but it was her interest in the band’s
success—their destinies, as it were—triggering my involvement in the first place.

Ah, the bands…

There are two of them, ya know. Persevere and Black Codex. They drew Destiny to their
side to work her magic, and the byproduct of that was…little ole me.

Curiosity at her uncharacteristic focus brought me forth, and there I found ten men. Each
truly alone when it came to matters of the heart, each having their own steadfast reasoning
behind it, and each providing me a mouth-watering challenge I hadn’t seen in centuries.

I simply could not walk away.

Now this brings me back around to the story at hand; the one I began telling you about.

You see, the beauty of me being the one to tell the story, rather than you following their day-to-day lives, is I can skip all the transient in-between moments—ya know, the boring crap—and
focus on the ones that truly mattered, the ones that lead to the click and fall at the end of their
journey. And what a journey it was. So many missed chances, so many slips of judgment, so
many leaps of faith; it's a miracle I got them together at all.

I like to title my little stories when I tell them and this one I call
Star-Crossed Lovers
. I crack
myself up with that one, and I’ll tell you why: the woman is a best-selling author and the man
is—you guessed it—the lead singer of a multi-platinum-selling rock band.

See the irony? They're both stars...get it?

All right, so maybe humor isn’t my forte, in the traditional sense, but I manage to amuse
myself which, I suppose, is all that matters in the end.

Well, to me, at least.