Rhys
W hen Aston I get Martin, to myandplace, practically I parksprintthe carto thein thehouse. garage, jump
out of the I’m so fucking excited. Beckett and I don’t always see eye to eye on every decision. But this
is a case of a meeting of the minds. I’m one hundred percent behind the direction he and Arianne
envision for SCORE Yours. Even though Keira and I texted back and forth throughout the day, I was
careful not to let the cat out of the bag. I want to make a big deal of it... because it is. I stride through
the house as I head to the backyard. I know where to find her. I approach the lounging area surrounded
by the shallow pool––her favorite place in the afternoons. The sight of her stops me in my tracks. My
girlfriend is stretched out like a fucking goddess. Keira is soaking up the early evening rays. She’s
wearing an orange bikini that complements her tanned skin, SCORE headphones covering her ears and
designer sunglasses firmly in place, her blonde hair peeking from the top of her e-reader, lost in
whatever she’s reading. She notices me standing there. She lowers the device, removes the
headphones, and greets me with a brilliant smile. “Honey, I’m home,” I say. “Did you bring home the
bacon, baby?” She plays along. “I sure did, sugar.”
She lifts her sunglasses and places them on top of her head. “In that case, I might ke ep you.”
“Yeah?” “Yeah. You’re more fun than the pool boy... and more endowed.” Never mind I have a pool
girl. “Was he walking around in those tight speedo’s again?” “No.” She shakes her head. “Today he
was wearing a thong. He wanted to showcase his other talents. I told him it was highly inappropriate.
After all, I have a boyfriend.”
“Yes, you do.” We grin at each other. “Speaking of which, aren’t you going to come over here and
give your man a kiss?”
“You’re such a demanding boyfriend,” she says. “Why don’t you come to me?”
“Because when you come to me, I get a show.” That, and I don’t want to tempt fate in my
five-thousand-dollar suit.
She shoots me a flirtatious smile, drops the e-reader to the side, and gets to her feet. She sashays
towards me, hips swinging left to right.
My cock approves. We stand toe to toe. She tips her head back and offers her lips. Even perched on her
tippy toes, she’s so short without her heels on, I have to lean down to meet her tempting lips.
I cup her beautiful face in my hands and my mouth closes over hers. My tongue strokes between her
lips, sending a flourish of lust throughout my body. She tastes like mangoes, and I can smell the scent
of her sun tanning lotion—coconut, I’m guessing. Our kiss is a passionate dance of tongues. She
moans against my lips and I de epen our kiss, her longing as ravenous as mine.
When her hands slide to my belt buckle, I break the kiss. She doesn’t hide her discontentment. “If you
put your hand on my cock, I’m doomed. We’ll never get out of here in time, and we’ll be late for our
reservation.”
She frowns. “What reservation?” “We’re going out. We have a lot to celebrate.” “We do?”
I nod. She purses her lips together and crosses her arms over her chest, her bare foot tapping against
the concrete tile. “Aren’t you going to give me more to go by?”
“Nope.” “How am I supposed to know what to wear to this impromptu celebration?”
“Run upstairs and select something hot.” “Well, that’s not vague at all.” She rolls her eyes. “Fair
enough. Run upstairs and when you come back down, I expect you to take my breath away. Clear
enough?”
She swats my chest. “Why didn’t you say so to begin with?” She laughs. “I can totally work with that.
Lucky for you I had another day jam packed with nothing to do, so I was able to coordinate my brand
new wardrobe.” She grins, proud. “Is there a color palette I should gravitate––”
Slap! She rubs her ass. “What did I do to deserve that?” “You’re wasting time.” “How was I supposed
to know that when you’re being all secret agent on me and withholding important information?”
“I had to pull strings to get this reservation.” One call to Larkin and I was set. He secured a table at his
Santa Monica award-winning restaurant in a flash. “We can’t be late. Go on now.” I jerk my head
towards the house.
She stares at me. She’s suspicious. “Can I at least know what I did to be treated to this last-minute
celebration on a Tuesday night?”
I trace her lips with the pad of my thumb. “It’s not about what you did.” I hold her gaze. “It’s about
who you are.”