Bedding the Wrong Brother(48)



For a moment, Rhys couldn't respond. He was so choked up by how she saw him that he almost wanted to duck his head and hide for fear that she'd see just how much. Max was more comfortable with people, but she was right: It was mostly on a superficial level. Rhys, their parents, Melina—they were the only ones Max had ever really trusted enough to let inside. Rhys's circle wasn't that much bigger, so he knew Melina was exaggerating to a degree. He still liked how she saw him.

“There's another difference between you, but I'm not sure if I should tell you. It might give you a big head,” she whispered.

He grinned and arched his hips into her, making her gasp. “Too late for that.”

She stretched up so she could whisper in his ear, deliberately dragging her nipples against his chest. “You promise you won't tell anyone?”


Dropping his hands to her lush hips and pulling her in tighter, Rhys groaned, “I promise.”

Raising herself up slightly, Melina looked directly into Rhys's eyes. “You're way better looking than Max,” she deadpanned.

Rhys's eyes widened, then narrowed. “You little—” Digging his fingers into Melina's sides, he tickled her, making her screech and laugh with delight even as she struggled to get away.

He ceased tickling her almost immediately and instead wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight. The last thing he wanted, he realized, was for her to get away.





Chapter Nine





Dalton's Magic Rule #10: Know when to move on.



The next morning, Melina woke to a curious swishing sound. Stretched out on her stomach and nestled under Rhys's down comforter, she patted the bed next to her, confirming that Rhys was no longer with her. Blinking her eyes open, she yawned and stretched, hissing at the soreness in long-neglected muscles even as she grinned. Rolling slowly onto her back, she stared at the ceiling, straining her ears to identify the sound that continued to drift through the closed bedroom door.

A flash of white caught her eye, and she bolted into a sitting position, then fumbled for her glasses on the nightstand. After jamming them on her face, she stared at the white pieces of fabric slung over the doorknob.

It was the bikini she'd bought. The one she'd taken out of her purse and then chickened out of wearing. She'd stuffed it into her overnight bag before they'd left for the lake, only Rhys had obviously found it. Her first reaction was embarrassment. Sure, he'd said she was a bikini girl, but something this flashy and risqué? Something so out of character for her? Had he been amused by her purchase or turned on?

Standing, she moved toward the door and picked up the bikini, grimacing at the little piece of string that was supposed to (not) cover her bottom. But the longer she looked at it, the more certain she became.

It had turned him on, she decided.

Why wouldn't it? It answered the pop quiz he'd given her. If the bikini didn't prove how far she was willing to go to have him, she wasn't sure what would.

But then she frowned.

She'd bought the bikini, yes, but she hadn't worn it. And, worse, he'd probably guessed why.

Swoosh. Swoosh. The strange sound was a bit louder now that she was so close to the door. Whatever he was doing out there, she tried to imagine his reaction if she sauntered out wearing nothing but the bikini. She got all hot thinking about it, so she quickly pulled on the bottom piece, then looked down at herself. Since she'd waxed, her bikini line was bare. Her skin looked smooth and somewhat creamy, just liked he'd said. Unfortunately, if she looked closely she could see the first sign of stubble on her calves, and she knew from behind she had a dimple or two or ten that she wouldn't be able to hide. Suddenly she wasn't feeling so hot.

She bit her lip, undecided. This was her last day with Rhys. She wanted to make the most of it. Did she really want to wear something she felt less than confident in?

Shaking her head, she quickly pulled off the bottom, returned the pieces to her overnight bag, and then rushed into the bathroom to brush her teeth and dress. Compromising, she pulled on the shorts and pretty lavender tank top she'd bought for the weekend. It showed more skin than she normally did, so she didn't feel quite as cowardly as she did about the bikini.

She opened the door, then froze, sucking in her breath at the sight in front of her.

Rhys stood in the living room with the front door open. He was wearing jeans but nothing else. Sunlight illuminated his bare chest and muscular arms as he rhythmically worked sandpaper across some kind of wooden frame. A light layer of sweat covered him, and he paused to swipe at his forehead, then downed some water from a bottle. Staring at his throat as he chugged the water, Melina licked her lips and automatically stepped forward, wanting to wrap her arms around him and get all sweaty herself.

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