Whisper (The Voice trilogy Book 1) (10 page)

His shelves are hung with pennants from his favorite teams, trophies from his own triumphs, worn rugby balls, framed jerseys and other random male paraphernalia. A window into his mind, these must be things that make him feel comfortable, things that are important to him. The thought makes me want to explore, discover more, find out what makes him tick. I rake the shelves, up and down filing away interesting titles and books we have in common when I cannot help but stop and stare.

On a shelf high above Rhys’ chair, behind his big beautiful desk, a beautiful woman commands my attention. She would command anyone’s attention. Even from way down here I can tell that she is fierce; long, shiny golden hair, dazzling smile and a body that would make a Victoria’s Secret model sick with envy. She is not alone in the picture, but she is so captivating that she is all you can see. Searching the picture for other beautiful people I notice the man holding her, a strong arm around her tiny waist, casually claiming ownership. His demeanor is easy, his beauty a match to hers in every way. He smiles crookedly at the camera, while her eyes are locked on him. They are perfectly suited to one another, love evident. I swallow so loudly I’m sure everyone in the house can hear it as I try and peel my eyes away from the photograph of Rhys and the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.    

His eyes follow mine to the impossibly perfect photograph. For a moment he mulls the photo before returning his attention to me, the crooked smile firmly in place, disarming and distracting. He stands from his chair and moves around the desk, closing the gap between us, charging the air. He comes to stand in front of me, casually leaning against his desk, his form still easily looming over my meager frame. Relaxed and
loose, he captivates my every thought. I look down at his powerful legs casually crossed at the ankle. A kick of my toe and I could move between those strong thighs, invite myself into his space and let him burn me up from the inside. Just a step and I would be in, so close I could rest my palms on his rock hard thighs, run my hands over the fine fabric of his slacks, warm him with my fingers. All I have to do is take a step forward, and into his arms. His scent fills the room, spread by a sudden breeze pushing through the large windows and my mind goes blank. I catch myself from falling into his eyes and pull back from the brink. Realizing that I am in grave danger of willfully jumping down a rabbit hole that I may never find my way back from, I still. It is easy to see why so many women are drawn to him, he can be so disarming. I cannot explain what is happening, or how I got here. I just know I want to be here.

Rhys is just the best man, a beautiful man,
but just a man. I have been with boys but never with a man. A man with money to burn, a man who exists in a different sphere than my humble self. I would be remiss if I failed to remind myself of that fact. He is someone I would never know if it weren’t for this wedding, someone who would surely never be interested in knowing me. And now he stands before me with his dazzling smile lit up just for me, his eyes alight with humor as he watches me overanalyze and roll it all over in my head. The corner of his mouth twitches and curls like a Cheshire cat, he winks and wrinkles his nose.

The buzz of my phone startles me, pulsating relentlessly against my leg, pestering like a begging dog. I try to ignore the unwanted interruption and focus on Rhys but to no avail. Reaching into my pocket I pensively remove my angry vibrating phone, looking down on a desperate text message. Angry Caps shout through the screen. A fog sets over my eyes as I stare. Words of hate jump out at me, slapping me, begging me to lose control, to reveal my pain. Rhys’ strong hand extends in want of my phone. I look into his eyes and he takes it from my trembling hand as I sink into the chair before him. Casually he pops out the battery and sets the two pieces of angry technology on the desk, sliding them behind him and out of sight. His steely gaze intimidates, but a slight smile puts me oddly at ease.

“I’m going to need you to focus on me and in return I promise you my undivided attention.” He never looks away. His focus is precision, sharp and unyielding. He stands and casually saunters behind his desk before taking a seat in his oversized throne of industry. He turns towards me, fingers steepled before his cupids bow. He is clearly in negotiating mode, he looks like a shark behind his oversized desk, powerful, distinguished, and not to be crossed. A shiver runs down my spine watching him in his seat of power, commanding, intimidating and sexy as hell.

“Sophie, I may have been wrong about us.” He pauses with a thought that hangs from his lips. “Olivia thinks we should date.”

“I got that. Subtlety is not her strong suit.”

“No, well,” he chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “I am not interested in dating.” Why do I feel like he is about to let me down easy? What a presumptuous ass. I gird myself for a battle, readying my tongue to lash back. “I would like to spend the night with you, Sophie. I just
cannot offer you any more than that.” His words hit me like a Mack truck, knocking the wind from my chest and the retort straight from my mouth. I should be appalled, insulted, affronted at the very least. I let his words settle, heavy and low in my belly, and they don’t sting as they should. “You need a man to properly navigate those curves.”   

His dishonorable intentions tickle my ears and the pleasant flutter in my belly grows into a hungry growl. I narrow my eyes on his wicked grin and nod. Yes, I could use a good fuck. And that is what I wanted, right? Who would it hurt? I would get what I want from someone who seems rather sure he has what I need. A quick war rages in my mind, what to do? Do I allow myself to be lured into his one night web? Should I be insulted and refuse, or agree, and go against my very nature. He is beautiful, and rich, with a reputation like a stud horse. Who am I to say no? I collect my thoughts, and slowly craft my response, leaving him to wait.

“And you think you’re up to the job?”

“Oh, I know it.” His eyes twinkle with ego. “Aren’t you curious?” Oh my, his words are a baptism in sin, delicious, dark and twisted sin. “It is clear to me that you are worth the risk.” 
             

“What happened to being just friends? I thought that is what you wanted.” I reply before my mind can talk me out of it. 

“I do want to be your friend.  I also want other things. I cannot stop thinking about what’s hiding under that dowdy little dress,” an insult and proposition in the same breath. His smoldering glare burns down my defenses and I am ripe for the taking, completely unguarded and unprotected. “I am not feeling very friendly right now. I want to taste you, Sophie. I cannot think about anything else. I will kiss every inch of you until you whimper and beg.” My heart speeds up to Mach one. My mouth is dry, but my pussy is sopping wet.  “But I just want to be clear about what this is. What it will be. If we can both agree, then we can have a bit of fun and nobody gets hurt.” 

“And what of your rule?”
I prod. He leans forward, whispering across the desk as if sharing some secret.

“Breaking the rules is part of the fun, Sophie.”

“I could use a bit of fun.” Which is a massive understatement, as reflected in my now damp panties. God knows the last time a man touched me in a gentle way is far beyond the reach of my memory. The thought of his deft hands traveling over my skin, his hard body pressed against mine. There are a million reasons to say no. I don’t know this man. I am not generally so forward or casual about sex. But one good reason shines above all, screaming, YES, to the heavens. I want to. With every fiber of my being, every inch of my skin, I want it. Ramifications be damned. I will be gone before we get too close, I won’t allow myself to get hurt. “What exactly are you suggesting?” His eyes light up and he leans forwards, resting his elbows on the desk, a wide grin pulling at his perfectly full lips. 

“You just agree to spend the night with me and leave the rest up to me.” He leans back again, pleased with
himself, crossing his legs. “I think that’s what I need. You definitely need it.” I am tripped up by his casual declaration that all I have to do is show up, like a prop. Immediately a chip of doubt erodes on my shoulder. What am I getting myself into?

“Leave it all up to you?” The first chill of warning trickles down my spine, like ice water, cooling the fire he just lit. I will not relinquish control to anyone, much less a man I have just met. I will never make that mistake again.

“I will have my way with you, Sophie. You just let me take care of you, and trust that I know what you need. I know what I like, Sophie. Do you?” I suppose I should steel myself for more of these probing, personal questions, but it suddenly feels invasive. How dare he insinuate that I don’t know what I like. Do I know what I like? I know I don’t like to be used. I know I don’t like to be hit. I know I have never been able to explore what I like because I have always been so hell bent on pleasing someone else. So deathly afraid to recognize, or put into words the things that my body calls for deep in my dreams, for fear of ridicule and shame. And with that thought I know I will do it. I know that I will be safe, he can’t hurt me, I won’t let him.    

“I want you, and I promise I will make you forget all about him. Trust me, give yourself to me, we would be amazing together, I can feel it.” I pick my jaw up off the ground before I can form a solid thought. Give yourself to me? What is this an old Dracula movie?

“So, I am to be added to your collection?”

“No, I don’t believe that you belong in a collection
, Sophie. You are a treasure unto yourself, unparalleled.” A giggle escapes my throat before I can catch it. Such a seedy proposal crossing sweet lips is surely an anomaly. He frowns and waits for an explanation.

“You make it sound like I am giving you some sort of gift. I don’t know that I can give myself to you, to anyone.” The crack in my voice betrays the calm I try to exude. Control is something I have fought tooth and nail for recently. The thought of handing myself over makes my blood run cold. Yet, in his eyes, the way he looks at me, I want to believe that I can handle this. There is nothing resembling calm running through my body. My mind breaks into a sprint, unsure of my capacity to trust. But Rhys’ intense glare grips me and demands an answer. I am exasperated, insulted, intrigued. Frightened and exhilarated. It is a heady cocktail of conflict, wanting to be with him so badly I can almost feel his hands skating
across my skin and being frightened by the prospect of what he has in mind.

“You are a gift, Sophie. I cannot wait to watch you come undone. I cannot wait until you give yourself to me. And you will, because deep down, you want to. It is written all over your body.” He licks his bottom lip and it rings deep in my belly. “I thought you may react this way, which makes the prospect all the more delectable. Don’t say a word. Let me escort you to the dinner tonight and we will see what happens.”

“Dinner?” Why is my mind so many beats behind? Catch up!

“Yes, dinner.
We all need to eat.” He winks and his lopsided, panty busting grin leaves me no choice. I would gladly let him to take me anywhere, no questions and no clothing necessary. He is like a controlled substance, slowly building in my veins, a lingering high that keeps my mind high above reality. The pain that this man must cause will surely be exquisite, the implied ecstasy worth every moment of impending agony. 

Chapter 7

We arrive back at the hotel just as the sky begins to blush, the sun going down, hovering on her horizon, teasing the edges of the day. The elevator ride is quiet and charged, like two teenagers shy and anxious, anticipation stretched between us, quieting the verbal back and forth. Rhys is careful not to touch me, his hands firmly in his pockets. He just grins and winks as the car comes to rest on the sixteenth floor. I turn to him before I exit the elevator. Holding the door open he backs me against the wall and leans in. Flecks of gold sparkle in his eyes, captivating my attention, his breathing is even and
controlled, his face soft. 

“I will be down in two hours to collect you. Think about it.” He softly brushes a rogue curl from my face, the back of his fingers leaving a trail of heat across my cheek. He pulls his arm back and retreats into the elevator, the doors closing on his crooked smile and my frozen form. How could I not think about it, his tongue and lips all over my body? My aching skin, begging for his attention, whimpering, begging
, it is all I can think about.

A cold shower, a good all over buffing, and I am alert and excited, yet completely unprepared. Rhys
’ mysterious draconian offer swims through the muck that has mired my mind for longer than I can remember. His offer rings on high, louder than any other thought in my head. The echoes of his silky voice drown out my questions and doubt. I rub at my scalp with a fluffy white towel when I hear a knock on the door. My heart takes off and I search for a clock. How long was I in the shower?

“Sophie, are you here?” Olivia’s voice crosses the door as she knocks again. I let her in and she makes herself comfortable on the bed, watching me towel my hair and lay out my clothing for the evening. 

“Sophie, I am so sorry we haven’t had more time together. I miss you.” A pout on her full lips makes me grin. Her pout is potent and practically irresistible. 

“
Liv, it is fine. I have kept busy. I am really sorry for ducking out on the festivities last night. It was getting a little too hot in there.”

“Oh
. Please. I’m sure it got much worse after I left. Fortunately, Matthew showed up and swept me away. Some of those girls are wild, to say the least, fuzzy boundaries and all that sort of stuff.” She waves her hand about, dismissing the ‘stuff’ like yesterday’s news. My curiosity is peaked, what is the ‘stuff’?