Whisper (The Voice trilogy Book 1) (15 page)

“What are you talking about?” A wicked smile paints Melissa’s face while she watches the dawn rise behind my eyes. 

“Yeah, welcome to the club.” With a wave of her hand, she disappears around the corner leaving me reeling. Her laughter lingers long after she leaves the room. I am stuck in front of the mirror, trapped again with a girl left out of the loop. I gather my emotional strength, put on a happy face and return to the reception. I wander around the perimeter of the room, watching couples dance and laugh. I catch Melissa’s eyes while she writhes against Wes on the dance floor. She looks me dead in the eye with a wicked grin and I will her to combust, on the spot. Right there on the dance floor in front of everyone, I will her to burst into flames. 

Leaning on my fingertips, I push on the receiving table and feel my mood sink and anger rise, coursing through my veins.
What the fuck have I gotten myself into
? I close my eyes, fighting back angry tears. Pulling in a deep breath, willing myself to calm I feel a warm breath on the nape of my neck. A shudder runs down my spine as a strong finger traces the line of my shoulder. 

“I would like a dance with the most beautiful woman here.” Rhys. His whisper like silk and sandpaper
against my already assaulted nerves. Turning on him with fire in my eyes, bile rising in my throat, I push him away.

“Leave me alone, Rhys.” I wave my hands around, emotion dripping from my fingertips, losing any grip on my emotions. “Stop toying with me.” Rhys’ face falls, hurt briefly passing before his crystal clear eyes. My head is swimming, his proximity pulling me under. I push past him, his solid form offering no resistance and he follows me quietly out of the room, his energy pulling at me like an anchor. I push through the double doors out of the lavish dining room, away from the party and into the darkened foyer. I sink into an antique fainting couch in the far corner, hiding my face in my trembling hands. A deep and painful sigh escapes my lips, my eyes taking in the sight of Rhys’ wingtips, polished and perfect. He stands in front of me, passively. I look up into his eager eyes to find them liquid, warm with concern.

“Please, Rhys, don’t,”  whispering my plea for mercy and reprieve. “I don’t want to play.”

He moves around and takes a seat next to me, elbows propped up on his knees, his hands joined, fingers resting on his full lips. He turns his heavy gaze on me, unleashing the full power of his deep pain filled eyes. His chest falls as he exhales deeply, the side of his mouth pulled into a wicked grin that could melt the ice caps.

“Oh, I haven’t begun to play with you, Sophie.” Looking up into his waiting emerald eyes I can’t hold back. The truth is undeniable. I am just a toy to him, a plaything that he will quickly tire of. How did I convince myself that I could handle this enigma? There are too many unknowns here to count, too many pitfalls to swallow me up. Yet he disarms me so easily, just a look and a slight grin is all it took. I ache as he caresses my cheek with the back of his fingers.              

“Why does that sound like a threat?” Caught, with his guard down, he clears his throat and wipes the playfulness from his face. I wait with baited breath for him
to offer an answer, an explanation. He strokes his chin shaking his head. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” His mask so easily slides into place.

“I just had a very enlightening conversation with Melissa, about your reputation.” He winces at the mere mention of her name.

“Look at me,” he demands, tilting my face with a finger. “My past has nothing to do with you. We talked about this. I thought we were just having a bit of fun?” He uses my words against me. Every soft plane of his face reflects the truth, but Melissa’s elusive language and innuendo will not fade away.  “I will deal with Melissa,” he declares. “And I do not want to hear another word about it. What we are doing is between us, no one else. Do you understand me?” He is done, closed the conversation without question. He winks and I cannot help but smile. He quiets all the chatter in my head. Every vile word Melissa said falls away. There is no one but us, and I like it, even though the idea is flawed.

“That’s better, you are beautiful when you smile. Now, come. I want to dance.” He pulls me to my feet and leads me back to the reception and onto the dance floor. The crowd parts for him like the Red Sea. Once in the middle of the floor, he twirls me around, easily passing under his arm, he pulls me into his chest, his hand across the small of my back anchoring me to his rock hard form, controlling my every move. The band begins to play “Lover Lay Down.” A striking redhead with finger waves and an old fashioned satin sheath softly croons about spring’s sweet rhythm.

Rhys is a skilled dancer, gracefully gliding us both across the floor. I am completely lost in the dance and the song. I look over and see Olivia and Matthew slowly swaying in one another’s arms, barely aware of another soul, so happy, so in love. Uninvited emotions bubble to the surface and I press my cheek to Rhys’ hard chest to
stifle a sob and hide my face as he moves me to words of love and wanting. The emotions of a wedding, intense heart pounding lust, exhausting female gossip and the glamor of the whole scene is beginning to weigh heavily on my heart, and head. We move slowly to the music as a saxophone cries and launches into a lovelorn solo. Rhys lowers his head as the music begs and puts his lips to my ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down my spine. In unison with the breathy singer, he whispers in my ear “Oh…. Please..”, a question, a promise. The simple lyric shatters my resistance. He places his finger under my chin and raises my face to meet his. A single tear betrays my carefully contained façade. He casually wipes it away with the pad of his thumb and smiles warmly. Easily melting the last pockets of icy resistance I have tried to hide away.

“Come.” He grabs my hand and leads me off of the dance floor while the saxophone laments. Leading me out of the dining room, he swings me around so we are face to face, bending down so we are nose to nose, and grips me with his eyes. “There is something I want to show you.”  

Chapter 11 

He leads me out into the yard where a swath of blush colored silk covers the perfectly manicured stone path, a brief storm having liberated dozens of wisteria blossoms, now scattered across the aisle, a fitting footpath. The weeping willows sway lazily above, while thousands of tiny wisteria petals dance towards the ground, floating and twirling in the gentle sea breeze. The moody canopy is draped in thousands of twinkling lights, softened by the tendrils of dripping moss. The view is breathtaking. Water still, like glass and alight with all the stars in the sky swimming languidly upon the surface. I am momentarily lost, all of the drama of the wedding slowly fading away, leaving only me, Rhys and the glassine sea. His warm hand on the small of my back pulls me from the moment, his pulse building to an exquisitely torturous pace as he leads me around a large breakwater, onto an expansive dock. Walking onto the planks my sight is overwhelmed by the sleek, gargantuan yacht in front of me. I have to pick my jaw up off the dock. I have never seen anything like it. Rhys is clearly pleased with my reaction, a huge grin slowly spreading across his perfect face.

Pulling me into his powerful arms, he wraps me in his warmth and whispers. His moist lips against my ear, is almost too much to bear, “One amazing night.” The magnitude of my lust for this man is beyond anything I have ever experienced. My entire body changes the moment he touches me, molds to his will, bends to his whims. I feel all that I have been missing, in his caress. His touch is all knowing, familiar and eager. 

“Come.” His one word command is enough to get me moving as he takes my hand to lead me on board. He is excited and his energy is infectious. He is like a little child showing off his new toy, I’m just not sure I can give him the reaction he is hoping for. Being surrounded by all this wealth and opulence is polarizing. Never have I been
around such wealth or excess. The deck is sleek and dark, lit only by dozens of candles that circle the banquette. Very little is illuminated, other than Rhys’ sparkling eyes. “Well?” he asks.

“It is amazing. Is this all for Olivia and Matthew?” He huffs at the question, and creases his brow.

“This is all for you.” He winds his fingers between mine, leading me quickly across the shadowy platform and down below deck. “I thought since this was our one night together that we could stay out here, away from prying eyes and ears.”

“Rhys.” I tug his hand and look into his eyes wanting him to hear me, to understand. “Shut up,” I whisper with a grin that he matches, “you’re ruining it”. He pulls me through the cabin with urgency and I am sure he is not even listening. It is larger than I imagined. A large living area with a white bar and white leather couches, dominate the central cabin. A white baby grand piano sits in the corner. He leads me through the living area into the kitchen and through an unexpectedly large dining room, down another deck and through a solarium before he swings me around and pins me to the wall. His hips pressed against me, I rock back on my heels and almost lose my balance, saved only by the anchor of Rhys’ hips, and the smooth wall at my back.
             

“Good, because I am done being
friendly
.” His eyes burn with intensity and the resonance in his voice sends lightning across my skin. He rocks his hips against me and I feel his anticipation press into my belly. Brushing my hair to the side, he licks and nips at my neck while his hands make quick work of the slight zipper that lies at the small of my back. His hands slip beneath the sheer fabric of my bodice and my skin is aflame with the burning lust of his touch. “I hate waiting.”   

“I need to look at you. It’s all I can think about,” he demands, opening the door, rolling me around the corner into a large suite. I’m awed by the room, and the
massive bed that dominates. It floats on a platform, above the rest of the room, an island of crisp blue linens, pale and tranquil, reflective of the sea. Chocolate brown pillows are tossed about the bed and surround the platform. I hear Rhys slide out of his tuxedo jacket before he steps up behind me, sending a shiver of anticipation down my jelly spine.

The cabin swirls with heavy sea air, all polished wood and salt. It is charged and hot. He moves swiftly through the space, lighting rows of stark white pillars, the mirrors they stand upon amplifying their flame, reflecting upon his beautifully, dangerous face. He beckons to me with a mere flick of his finger and I go, willingly, achingly. He turns to me, hunger brimming in his eyes. His hands are in my hair twisting and pulling me towards him, bringing my lips to his, covering me with such gentle ease. 

He closes his eyes and catches a breath before slowly backing away to throw open the doors to the narrow veranda, inviting a gentle breeze to cool the crackling air. Moonlight streaks in over the bright linens on the bed, illuminating the entire surface and bouncing off the wall of mirrors on the far side, onto my frozen face. The reflection in the mirror could ignite a frozen lake, from across the room, I watch him slowly stalk towards me. He is looking only at me, and I watch him through the mirror, the only buffer between his fiery gaze and my highly flammable body. His broad shoulders roll under his shirt, while his hips gently sway side to side, rocking his form closer to me. He steps up behind me, placing his hand across my belly, watching my every move in the mirror. He buries his face in my hair, running the tip of his nose up my neck, the vibration practically rattling my teeth.

“You smell amazing.” He gently runs his tongue along the crest of my ear before sucking on the lobe, all the while his hands are still and strong, holding me to him. His fingers splayed possessively across my belly, stone
chest heaving against my back, his heartbeat slow and steady. I watch him in the mirror, worshiping my neck, lighting me up. He is so cool, comfortable in his role as seducer. He moves a hand to my neck and his fingers easily wind around my throat, the simple contact so erotic. Tipping my head back with his thumb, he opens me up for his mouth to devour mine. The kiss is deep. He tastes of scotch and cigars and the sea. I want to turn into his arms, but he holds me still, watching me slowly melt.  Shining a white hot, crooked grin back at me, I swear I can hear the mirror shatter into a trillion tiny pieces from the force of his smile. An eager shudder rolls through me.

“Are you scared?”

“No.”

His eyes sparkle in challenge and he pulls me into him with such ferocity that I lose my footing and he crus
hes me against his rock hard abs, growling into my ear. His hips rock against me while he grinds himself into my lower back. He is hot and hard.

“We are going to have to go slow. Or I may tear you apart.” His casual, carnal promise sends shock waves through me, fanning the flames he lit. I don’t know whether to beg or scream. I have a feeling I may end up doing both. “Now are you scared?”

“Maybe,” I barely whisper.

“Good.” Sauntering over to the bar I silently follow, watching the muscles in his back dance against the fabric of his shirt. That shirt needs to go. He pours a drink and watches me back up against the counter. He hands me a glass and I play with the amber liquid swirling it around and around watching him, watch me.  

He radiates heat, wrapping around me, twisting like a serpent, luring me to the fruit of my undoing. Electricity teems in the air, crackling in my head, loosening my grip on reality. He tips his drink, but I shake off the offer. My head swimming as it is, no additional plying required.  Taking the drink from my hand, he abandons it to the counter and drags his hands through his hair, rousing the thick dark curls. I drink him in, every languid inch of predatory heaven, inching closer, his casual pace falsely comforting. Strong hands grip my waist, raising me to the counter, the cold granite on my bare flesh quickly forgotten as he takes his place, coaxing my thighs apart, closing the empty space between us. His hands float like clouds over my swelling curves and settle to the cool counter on either side, teasing circles on my hips with his thumbs. His hands sneak under the edges of fabric spread across the counter and hover just shy of my bare flesh. Heat radiates from his fingers, teasing. I shift, called by nature to do so. I want his hands on me. I want him to tease me, touch me, kiss me, feel me. I want him inside of me. His face is impassive while he watches me squirm. He doesn’t kiss me or say a word, just watches my temperature rise. I close my eyes and focus on the circles he draws in flame across my hidden skin, a few quietly deep breaths and the sound of blood rushing in my ears calms to a dull roar. I feel his eyes, waiting, appraising the results of his teasing. I slowly raise my lids and that beautiful mouth twitches into a stunning grin before his hands are around my bare backside, pulling me to the edge of the counter, forcing our bodies together.