Whisper (The Voice trilogy Book 1) (4 page)

“Not exactly,” he replies under his breath, keeping his eyes focused forward. 

“Do women usually throw themselves at you like that?” I ask with a giggle, intending a joke to lighten his mood. He turns his dark eyes on me, the corner of his mouth twitches and his eyes narrow. He exhales, blowing away the tension. His features soften, his eyes slightly warmer, and a crooked grin arises on his chiseled face.

“I am a very… popular man.” His pause is pregnant with innuendo and ego. He arches an eyebrow at me and traps his lower lip with his teeth, stifling a rude comment no doubt. I can’t help but laugh at his response, looking at him with disbelief, his arrogance a new extreme for me. I shake my head, crossing my arms in disgust.

“You are amazing.”

“I have been told.” A wide, lascivious grin breaks across his lips, his eyes alight with playfulness. How
quickly his demeanor changed. Before I can retort, the doors open and an older couple joins us in the confines of the glass elevator. I move to the opposite corner of Rhys and keep my eyes straight ahead. I won’t let him see me rattled, his arrogance burrowed under my skin, threatening to turn me inside out. From the corner of my eye I see him grinning that crooked grin, a look of triumph all over his smug face.  A low groan rolls from my throat as the doors open and I can thankfully exit the space I’m sharing with this megalomaniac. I turn as the doors are closing and with my sweetest grin wish Rhys pleasant dreams. The doors close and my shoulders drop as I release the breath I didn’t know I was holding. His presence is maddening, oppressive and exhilarating. All at once I am glad to be away from him, and ache to be back in the elevator, alone with him. Olivia has him nailed, a distraction indeed.

When I get back into my room I quickly change, wash my face and slip into bed. The elevator ride is playing on a continuous loop in my head. His smug grin, those full lips, I toss and turn trying to find comfort. Never has a man affected me so quickly, or deeply. The thought irritates me. I kick off the blankets and writhe in the warm Miami air. My skin is sticky and soft, and my internal temperature is off the charts. Rhys provokes a serious physical response that I cannot deny. I wish I could for the sake of all the women I assume he has victimized with his shrewd charm and massive ego. I close my eyes and try to focus on sleep, bringing happy thoughts of the upcoming days into the forefront of my mind, wanting to focus on anything but Rhys. I finally find comfort with my legs wrapped around a long silky pillow, the pressure and friction offering slight relief.  I am so exhausted I feel sleep take me.   

Wrapping his hands around my ankles, he slowly pulls me towards the foot of the bed. I sit up to see him kneeling at my feet, his eyes full of carnal lust, his lips wet and swollen. His eyes are beseeching, begging for permission. I reach down and push the linen shirt off his broad shoulders, running my fingernails up the back of his neck through his coarse hair. He closes his eyes and releases a deep moan, leaning his head into my waiting hands. Urgency clouds his vision as our eyes meet and lock in an erotic knot. He reaches for the hem of my top and pulls it over my head, my breasts fall free and into his waiting hands. He strokes and squeezes my inflamed flesh, his finger and thumb twisting and pulling at my little pink nipples, making them pointed and hard. He leans in and takes one breast into his mouth, rolling my hard nub around with his long tongue. He nips at me with his teeth and looks to me for my reaction. He pulls my nipple between his teeth, never breaking eye contact, and then begins to knead and pull at my flesh with his other hand. Slowly he pushes me back onto the bed and sinks back to his knees, his hot breath tickling the inside of my already warm thigh. He pulls my ass to the end of the bed and dips his head between my splayed limbs, taking a deep breath of my scent. “Mm mm,” he hums and pulls my panties to the side revealing my swollen folds. He slowly blows on my sensitive skin and I writhe and shift my hips. “Don’t move,” he demands in a husky whisper. He stills me with his strong hands, wrapping one arm around my leg, resting my thigh on his shoulder, he strums my clit with his thumb and watches my face. His gaze is so intense, watching him take so much pleasure in touching me is surreal and I have to turn away. I close my eyes and let every movement wash over me.  

He continues to strum my clit as he dips a finger between my eager lips. “Oh, you are so wet, Sophie.” My
name drips off his tongue like syrup. He slips two fingers in and begins to pump, slowly building a rhythm while he presses on my clit with his thumb. The knots in my body tighten in response.  My hips sway of their own accord and I press against his hand, begging for more, raising my hips off the bed, lifting myself into his palm, wantonly waving my pussy in his face. I feel an orgasm building as he puts more pressure on that bundle of frantic nerves, he slowly pushes his middle finger between my folds and massages me, making slow methodical circles. His hands continue their ministrations and my head is swirling in a torrent of heat and pleasure. An explosion is building more intense than anything I have ever felt, my body is no longer my own, moving on its own accord, responding to every move he makes. He lowers his head and gently begins to kiss and tease me with his mouth, licking and nibbling my most sensitive spot. Around and around his tongue swirls as his fingers push me higher. He blows onto my hot, wet flesh and then plunges his tongue inside of me, pushing and sucking the nectar he has coaxed. Into a million pieces my world shatters, my body humming and pulsing, waves rippling through me. Blood pounds in my ears as my body convulses in his hands, slowly he lets me down, pulling his fingers from my sex he looks at me with dark eyes, licks his lips and sucks my juice from his fingertips. I am shocked and gasp in response, as a wicked, crooked grin spreads across Rhys’ triumphant face
.  

The air in the room is too warm and bright, the morning sun assaulting my face. I try to screw my eyes more tightly shut and block out the light when I am startled by a knock at the door. I shoot up from my half sleep and realize that the sheets are damp below me. Trying to shake the fog from my head and from the dream that felt so real, my body is still pulsating. One brief meeting and this arrogant man has invaded my dreams and done things to me I desperately need. Another knock at the door and I bound off the bed without a thought, pulling the heavy door open, expecting Olivia, instead coming face to face with dream boy. His eyes take in my state of dress and he examines my form, a devious grin rising on his beautiful, crooked mouth. 

“Rise and shine, Sophie.
Good dreams, I hope.” With a wink, he invites himself in sweeping past me. I choke on his sentiment, the effects of my dream spread all over my body. He can’t possibly know! I barely stifle the groan that accompanies my transparency. He is in a crisp white shirt with sleeves casually rolled up his strong forearms and khaki linen pants that hug his perfectly taut bum and hang just right. Closing the door behind him and striding into the middle of the room, he slyly examines his new surroundings. Turning to me he raises a paper bag in the air. “I brought bagels and yogurt for the lady.” He smirks and sets the bag on the rumpled bed.              

Still feeling half asleep, confusion clouds my mind and I excuse myself to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face and cover my exposed bottom. I turn to the mirror to find my hair still full, slept in and
tousled, my face clear and bright thanks to my meager makeup routine. I wipe the sleep from my eyes and splash cool water on my cheeks, gently pinching to get a fresh blush. I brush my teeth and pull on a pair of yoga pants from my luggage.

Rhys is casually lounging on the
bed, his legs stretched out, shoes kicked off, and head resting in his hand propped on his elbow. He pops a piece of bagel into his mouth and tips his head at me. This is a different creature than the man I shared an elevator with last night. He is light, jovial even. His face is young and bright, that crooked grin pulling at me somewhere deep and dark.

“Is that what you look like when you first wake up?” He smirks as he slowly chews.
MMmmm A low groan escapes his throat. “Nice,” he whispers and takes another piece of bagel to his lips.

“Are you always such an ass?” I ask leaping onto the bed, taking him by surprise. His mood is markedly
different from last night. Casual and relaxed. I take the bagel from him and tear a piece for myself before thrusting it back into his hand. He sits up and casually folds his legs, tucking his feet under his knees. Leaning back against the padded headboard, he crosses his hands into his lap and smiles. His smile is disarming.

“That is subjective, I suppose,” he offers, contemplating the question, his eyes warm but tentative. “No one has ever called me ‘an ass’, not to my face anyhow. Certainly not a woman I have just met.” Taking the last bite of bagel he shrugs to himself in thought, bemused. His arrogant, crooked smile returns to full wattage, and I scoff at his reaction, taking a piece of blueberry bagel into my mouth, hoping food will help me to bite my tongue. His charisma fills every space in the room, leaving me flushed and charged, but my tongue feels sharp. I start moving about the room, opening curtains and tidying up, anything to avoid his immense gravitational pull.
Watching him casually recline on my bed, this spoiled, beautiful man, his jovial playful mood a stark contrast from our first meeting. 

Clearly he is accustomed to getting precisely what he wants at all times, and expects nothing less. I’m reminded of the scene at the elevators and Melissa’s bile-filled offer. He must have women wherever he goes. I imagine models and spoiled trust-funders hanging on his every word, giving in to his every whim. I feel a deep blush crawling up my body, contemplating those whims.  I wonder if any woman has ever made him work for it or do they just fall into bed with him. I see how the latter would be the case. He would be very hard to resist.

Our eyes meet and he halts me in my tracks, his eyes like steel traps. I feel like he has caught me, he knows what I was thinking, he can see it all over my body. A moment stretches between us, the air filled with something heavy, something explosive. I watch him swallow, his Adam’s apple slowly rolling down his throat, the corner of his mouth curling into a scorching grin. I melt onto the cool wood floor, mesmerized. My hand floats up to my throat, my heart fluttering like a trapped animal. I am trapped, hopelessly drowning in his pale green eyes, my ragged breath echoing in my head.

“Knock
knock, Rise and Shine….” A familiar voice and a knock at the door release me from Rhys’ hypnotic spell. Saved by the Bride! Olivia and Matthew.  

 
“Hi, sweetie! We thought we could all go to breakfast.” Pushing into the room, she takes in the sight of Rhys in my rumpled bed and swirls around in a tornado of blonde hair and sheer shock. Her eyes are wide like grapefruits, her mouth gaping, but fighting back an auspicious grin. Matthew, on the other hand, seems unfazed. He kicks his shoes off and takes a spot next to Rhys on the bed, helping himself to a bagel. The boys launch into a conversation about golf and tee times. Olivia pulls me into the bathroom.

“What.
The hell. Is he doing here?” she begs, her eyes bright with curiosity. “Naughty!” She laughs as she swats at my arm and turns to herself in the mirror. Fluffing her long blonde mane, she eyes me shrewdly, before launching into a lecture on the pitfalls of endless one night stands and Rhys’ propensity towards just that. I balance myself on the edge of the tub, listening to her drone on, my mind wandering to the beautiful man on my bed. What is he doing here, with me this morning? Why didn’t he take Melissa up on her offer last night? Is he trying to add my name to his roster? Do I want that? I smile wickedly to myself, because I know a part of me does, but I have learned the hard way not to be so reckless with my heart and body. My eyes meet with Olivia’s. She is standing in front of me with her hands on her hips, a question having just passed over her lips. “Well?”

“What
Liv? I didn’t hear you.”

“Where is your mind, back in bed with Rhys? What happened last night, tell me everything!” Her
excitement barely contained. She takes a seat next to me and braces herself for illicit details, giddy with anticipation.

“I hate to disappoint, but he just brought bagels.”

“What?” She shakes her head, like the scenario is an impossibility. “Really, bagels and nothing else?”

“Don’t you think I would tell you?
Really, just bagels. Besides, I’m starting to get the picture that I am not his type, so….” I leave the comment hanging, and get up, shuffling things about the counter. “So, what is the plan for today?” My casual attempt at changing the subject.              

“Oh, no.
You are not getting off that easy.” She says, joining me at the sink, admiring her reflection.

“I have never known Rhys to ….be so friendly, especially when he’s not, you know, making a girl squeal first.” The comment takes my breath away. I turn to her and a smile raises on my face
that strains at my cheeks.

“You are so bad! Listen, I am not trying to get mixed up with any of Matthew’s rich playboy friends. The cliché single desperate bridesmaid is not me.” Trying not to let her comment play over in my mind,
make you squeal
, I splash my face with cool water and grab a fluffy hand towel. When I look up Olivia is watching me, skepticism all over her face.               “Seriously, what do you think of him?” She retakes her seat on the tub and waits.