His eyes never leave me.
And it makes me feel just what he says. Amazing. Beautiful.
I reach between us and circle my clit with my fingertips, sending little zings through my limbs and spine, and Rhys’s jaw clenches.
“Oh, fuck yes, touch yourself.”
I reach farther down and press against his cock as he pulls in and out of me, and for the first time, his eyes close.
Well, look at that.
I file that away for later.
“Tell me you’re about to come,” he growls. I can feel him swell even more inside me and I know he’s so close.
And so am I.
I cup his face in my hands and rise up to kiss him, tightening my core and pussy, clenching around him even harder, and we both fall over the edge into ecstasy.
We’re panting, a little sweaty, as I fall back onto the bed and Rhys follows me, careful not to crush me, but his head is on my chest and his arms are gripping my sides. I summon up enough strength to push my fingers through his hair as we regain our senses.
“You’re good at that,” I say finally, staring at the ceiling. “Now I know what all the fuss is about.”
I feel him smile against me. “Oh baby, we’ve just gotten started.”
***
“This is Jackson Square.” I point to the park surrounded by wrought iron fencing in the heart of the French Quarter. “And behind it is St. Louis Cathedral. We can go inside, if you like, to look around.”
Rhys shrugs. “If you want to. I’m just enjoying the walk with a beautiful woman.”
He’s holding my hand, and when we have to push our way through a crowd, he simply rests his hand on the small of my back, or my ass, to let me know he’s right behind me.
The man is forever touching me.
And I freaking love it.
Instead of leading him to the cathedral, I lead him down Royal Street, away from the heart of the Quarter. There are so many amazing art galleries and shops on this street. It’s one of my favorites.
One boutique in particular catches my eye, and I pause to stare in the window.
“I have a soft spot for pretty things,” I say softly.
“What do you see that you like?” Rhys asks. I shrug my shoulder, then point at a simple silver chain with an amethyst pendant.
“That’s pretty.”
And then I begin to walk away, ready to look into the next window, and feel Rhys behind me. We pause to watch some street performers, who secretly give me the willies. I mean, it’s weird that some guy is dressed like a transformer, driving on the street, then stands up.
How does someone fall into that line of work?
“I’ll be right back. I need a bathroom.” Rhys kisses my cheek.
“I’ll be here,” I reply and toss him a smile over my shoulder as he walks away. Afraid that Mr. Transformer is going to decide to drive right up to me and freak me out, I return to the sidewalk and admire the art in the window there. The colors are bright, too bright for my home, but it’s interesting.
“Art lover?” Rhys asks as he joins me.
“I appreciate art,” I reply, still thoughtfully staring at the piece in the window. “I would never buy this, though.”
“Me neither,” he replies with a smile.
“Wow, are you Rhys O’Shaughnessy?” Two teenage boys have approached us. They’re obviously brothers, with their matching red hair and blue eyes. The older one is wearing a Cubs T-shirt.
“Baseball fans,” Rhys replies with a grin. “I am, yes.”
“Wow, I’m your biggest fan,” the older boy says and offers his hand for Rhys to shake. “You’re awesome. Why aren’t you playing this season?”
“I’m getting my shoulder back in shape, man. I’ll be back in the spring.”
“Awesome!”
“Maybe you just play for the wrong team,” the younger brother says. “I’m a Cardinals fan.”
“Nah,” Rhys replies with a good-natured laugh. “I think you just root for the wrong team.”
“No way!”
“Hey,” the older one says as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Can we get a picture? My friends won’t believe this!”
“Sure.”
“I’ll take it,” I offer, reaching for the phone. Rhys stands between the boys, one hand on each of their shoulders, and smiles widely for the picture.
“Thanks so much!”
“Yeah,” the younger brother adds, “you’re pretty cool. For a Cub.”
“You’re welcome.”
I’m quiet as we walk away. I’m so impressed with him! This is exactly why Sam and all of his fans love him so much. He’s approachable. He’s friendly.
“You’re quiet,” he murmurs beside me. “Talk to me.”
“I’m so proud of you,” I reply honestly. “You were great with those kids.”
He looks surprised for a moment, and then chuckles. “You surprise me.”
“Why?”
“I thought you’d decided that it was weird, and you were trying to figure out a way to tell me to get lost.”
“Nah, there would be other reasons to tell you to get lost. Being loved by teenage boys everywhere isn’t one of them.”
“Good to know.” He steers me around a group of people standing on the corner, talking and laughing. “I seriously love my job, Gabby.”
“I can tell. What do you love about it? I’m really interested..”
“It’s an honor. And I don’t mean that to sound as trite as it does. I’m a part of the all-American sport. There’s nothing more American than apple pie and baseball.”