CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Rhys woke first, to discover that the shadows in the room had moved. Dawn was creeping over the distant hillside, and Andie was still in his bed. He drank in the vision of her by his side, tangled in the sheets, her chest rising and falling in peaceful slumber. She looked like a Grecian goddess, one marble shoulder emerging from the draped fabric, the length of one lean leg exposed, her hair fanned out on the pillows, her face in repose, untroubled and breathtakingly lovely.
Hers was a face he would be happy to contemplate at any time, in any light, in any season, he realized, his gaze tracing the winged lines of her brows, the shape of her eyes with their long, sweeping lashes, the graceful curve of her cheek.
He shifted position, accidentally nudging her as he pulled the sheet up. Her eyes drifted open, and the smile she gave him made his pulse race.
“I fell asleep?” she murmured incredulously. “What a waste.”
She turned on her side so they lay face-to-face, inches apart, each soaking in the presence of the other. With a barely perceptible shift, they were kissing once more. Long, slow, languorous kisses this time—perhaps even more toe-curling than their previous devouring clash of lips and tongues.
Enervated by sleep, Andie was soft, dreamy, and exquisitely responsive. He turned her in his arms so they could spoon, his cock pressing insistently against her tight curves. His blood surged as she wriggled against him, and he slid against wet heat. He needed to be fused with her again, limb to limb, cell to cell, atom to atom.
He broke away for a few torturous seconds to sheath himself, and she arched her back, rubbing against him, sinuous as a cat. Then he was sliding into her again, welcomed by a surge of wetness as she held herself achingly still. They rocked together, riding lazy crests and troughs of pleasure that had their own bewitching rhythm. Skin to skin with her, surrounded by her, Rhys was possessed by a sensation that somehow combined both peace and exhilaration. Like he’d come home—like she was home.
His orgasm built slowly, honed to a pinpoint of such exquisite intensity that he shuddered against her as she was consumed by the tide of her own release.
“What are you doing to me?” Rhys whispered against her neck moments later, his breath stirring the strands of her hair. “You’re too damned irresistible.”
“Like you can talk,” Andie murmured, drugged with satisfaction.
They lay tangled together, drifting, until he eased himself out of bed to go deal with the condom.
When he returned, she was propped on one elbow, alert, brow furrowed. “I should get back to my room.”
Rhys felt a tug of loss at the idea of her slipping away, back to her solitary bed.
“No, please. Stay a little longer. There’s time.” He eased himself back under the covers. “Tell me about everything I’ve missed this week.”
Andie relaxed into chattiness as she lay back against the pillows and regaled him with news of Will’s progress in the OT gym. Her eyes were bright with excitement as she described his rapid mastery of the challenges she set for him. But she reserved a special fervor for her news of the farm she’d discovered that offered hippotherapy. Her face shone as she told him about the place, and her ideas about blending equine-assisted therapy with Will’s other treatments.
“It could be the boost he needs,” she enthused. “We have so many expectations, and we so desperately want him to speak, but with the horses he can just be.”
“Can you call the farm?”
“I’ll do it today. I checked their website, and they’ll need a pediatrician’s statement and Will’s medical history.”
“No problem. I’ll organize it.” He smiled lazily and stretched, luxuriating in a moment of utter contentment.
Andie turned to him, her expression suddenly solemn. “Rhys, you should know that when this thing between us runs its course, I won’t let it affect my work with Will. I’ll be there for him as long as he needs me.”
Rhys halted midstretch, pleasurable tension replaced by disappointment. When this thing between us runs its course? What? Aren’t we just getting started? The room seemed to dim, as if she’d erected a utilitarian tarp in front of his window when he was still trying to soak in the view of the sunrise.
The baby monitor on the nightstand issued a troubled squawk that sounded as disgruntled as Rhys felt.
“Oh, no!” Andie sat up, clutching the sheet to her breasts. “Mrs. Hodge will wake up. She’ll figure out I’m not in my room. I left the door open when I went to find you in the den last night, not thinking—”
“She doesn’t have the monitor. So it sounds louder in here,” Rhys pointed out. “I’ll get Will, and she probably won’t even notice. It’s still early.” The urgent secrecy seemed unnecessary. In fact, Rhys was surprised by how accepting he felt about the prospect of Mrs. Hodge picking up on the new development in his relationship with Andie. But Andie herself was clearly anxious, and it would be impolitic—not to mention tone-deaf—not to follow her lead. Right?
“I’d better get back.” She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and started collecting her clothing from the floor. Rhys barely had time to take a last, wistful look before she zipped herself into her jeans and shrugged on her T-shirt, wadding her underwear and socks into a ball in one fist. She was ready before he’d even put on a pair of pajama bottoms and tied his robe.
Rhys led the way down the corridor, Andie shadowing him like a SWAT-team member intent on concealment. He paused at the door to Will’s room, reaching out to squeeze Andie’s shoulder. She nodded, tiptoeing to her own door and gesturing for him to be quick about entering Will’s room. Rhys swung the door open, and Will’s cries filled the corridor just as Mrs. Hodge appeared outside her own room. Her eyebrows rose as she saw Andie, still dressed in yesterday’s clothes, about to sneak into her bedroom, and Rhys in his bathrobe. The nanny’s jaw dropped, her face settling into an appalled expression.
Andie lost no time in putting the door between herself and the scene in the hallway. All Rhys could do was smile sheepishly and complete his rescue of Will. He heard Mrs. Hodge’s door close with a crisp click as he lifted his son from his bed, his mood suddenly bleak. His unbelievable night with Andie had come to a hurried, utterly unsatisfactory conclusion.
When this thing between us runs its course . . . Her words rotated through Rhys’s brain on a static loop. How could she make such a pronouncement? She’d said it with such matter-of-factness that he could almost imagine her picking detritus from the kitchen drain and holding it between gloved fingers.
Not that her words were entirely callous. In fact, they were paradoxically considerate. Hadn’t the potential impact on Will been his main concern about starting something with her? Just as it had been his reason for abstaining from any personal entanglements over the past couple of years. It was only after she’d offered her reassurance that he realized that, where Andie was concerned, it was a spurious argument from the first. Andie loved Will. If he could trust anything in this world, it was that she would never hurt him or compromise his therapy. It was the damage she might cause Rhys himself that now stood out in sharp relief.
And yet, for all that, he trusted her. No matter what she said, he would not believe she could be so cynical as to slap an expiration date on the extraordinary connection that had sprung to life between them. After all, she was the one who’d stood up for it, brought it into the open, by breaking through his defenses with her courage, her refreshing candor. If it were up to him, he’d still be slinking through the shadows, confounded by his own doubts and insecurities.
He’d been the one who was too quick to underestimate their affinity. So now it was his turn to demonstrate his faith. The weekend was upon them, so he took Will down to the kitchen for another early morning of snowy vistas and leisurely make-believe at the train table, listening for the tread of Andie’s feet on the staircase.
She didn’t appear until late morning, looking vulnerable once more, her hair restrained in a braid that snaked over one shoulder, her eyes large and luminous. She’d called Saddle Tree Farm, she reported with a shy smile. If Rhys would rustle up the paperwork, they could stop by for an introductory session the following Friday. He agreed readily and offered her a cappuccino, relieved when she gradually settled into the relaxed rhythm of the morning, playing with Will and lingering over breakfast.
Mrs. Hodge left before noon to drive down to Connecticut to visit her daughter, and Rhys was aware of a certain tension lifting as soon as her car disappeared down the driveway. After lunch, when Will went down for his nap, he went in search of Andie, craving her company.
He found her in the laundry room, sorting her clothes into piles for washing, the washer already churning one load. She gave him an inquisitive smile as he walked to her.
“I missed you,” he explained, touching her shoulder, savoring the warmth of her skin beneath the thin fabric of her loose gray T-shirt. He stepped closer and dipped his head to plant a kiss at the corner of her mouth.
She leaned into his kiss, turning as his arms closed around her so they were melded together from chest to thigh. She moaned as he teased her lips apart with his tongue, giving in to instinct, opening to him with unconcealed need. Is she regretting her earlier comment? He could only hope. Or was she trying to hasten its conclusion by working the hunger out of her system, expelling it in the frenzy of their mutual desire?
Within moments, his jeans and her sweats formed a pile on the floor. He was thankful for his prescience in tucking a condom into his back pocket today, and at her urging he covered himself, lifting her onto the washing machine so he could fulfill his fantasy of the evening before in the wine room.
He’d never seen anything as erotic as her, spread for him, her eyes wild with abandon, her T-shirt sliding off one perfect shoulder, dark tendrils of her hair escaping from her braid. He plunged into her, mesmerized by the place where their bodies connected, knowing she, too, was captivated by the frankly carnal image of their coupling. He pulled out with unearthly control, her body giving up inch after inch of him until she claimed him again—hot, tight, and as inexorable as a force of nature. His control unraveled as he watched her biting down on her lower lip, bracing herself against the washer as it switched to the spin cycle.
The machine knocked and thumped, oscillating as he stroked into her, his pace and pressure building as her body gripped him and evoked a pleasure so intense that afterward he was speechless with the wonder of it.
“I missed you” became Rhys’s mantra. Over the weekend, they settled into a happy routine, gravitating together to tend to Will and share meals, bundling up for sledding expeditions and snowball fights, and thawing together in front of the fireplace, seeking each other out when Will was asleep to slake a thirst that seemed to intensify and demand relief more quickly each time.
Andie made no more ominous statements about “things running their course,” and Rhys’s contentment would have been just about complete if it weren’t for the air of hesitation and reserve that came over her whenever an outside party intruded into their spellbound state.
After Mrs. Hodge returned at the conclusion of the weekend, Andie didn’t back off from her next forthright physical encounter with him. She seemed powerless to resist that, at least. But she shot back to her room afterward, as if she’d been fired from a gun. Is she embarrassed by what our relationship has become? Does she regret it? Does she not feel it the way I do? All he could really be certain of was how strangely off balance and incomplete he felt without her sleeping by his side. It was impossible to deny it: he was completely in her thrall.