Thirteen

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Rys asked me to spend the night at his place, claiming my neck-killing pillows would ruin the festival experience for us both. I didn't mind the excuse to have a sleepover at his place. After dinner, I stopped by the rental, packed the clothes and toiletries I'd need, and went back to his house.

He'd left the door unlocked, and as I crossed the spacious foyer and entered the living room, I found him on the couch, frowning at the open laptop he'd placed on the coffee table.

"I'm back," I said.

Rys extended his hand toward me. "Come here. I need to ask you something."

I dropped my overnight bag on the gray rug and reached for Rys's fingers. He tugged slightly, and as I made a step forward, my knee bumped into the corner of the table.

I let out a pained yelp, and Rys sprang to his feet. "What is it? Did you hurt yourself?"

He took my face between his palms, examining it as if it was the part of me I'd injured. "Where does it hurt?"

"It's nothing," I mumbled. "You just don't know me yet. I'm a walking disaster, clumsy and—"

Firm, demanding lips hungrily seized mine. I forgot about the pain I still felt and leaned into Rys, whose arms found their way around my body, holding me close.

The kiss went from bruising to soft. Rys broke it and pressed his mouth to my forehead. "Let's go to bed."

"But you wanted to ask me something."

"I'll take my laptop with me."

He picked up my bag and his computer and walked out of the room. We turned left into a hallway, and Rys stopped next to a white door.

"My room," he said, opening it.

I stepped inside first. Rys's bed, much bigger than mine, took up the center of the bedroom. The en suite and closet must've been behind the doors on my right. Rys put my bag on the floor and walked to the nightstand. He placed the laptop on it, and as he touched the lamp with his index, soft yellow light illuminated our surroundings.

"The bathroom's behind the door right next to you," he said, drawing the curtains. "If you want to shower, I'll get ready for bed in the guest bath."

"Thank you."

Rys pecked my cheek. "Don't rush."

As much as I liked the tiny bathroom in my rental, Rys's spacious shower with multiple jets had no competition. I took my time under the spray and completed the rest of my bedtime routine. When I returned to the room, Rys was already in bed, wearing only black shorts.

He patted the mattress by his side, and I sat, rubbing my bruised knee.

Rys circled my wrist with his fingers. "Let me see."

I removed my hand, and he looked at my knee, sighing. "Wait here."

Rys went to the bathroom. When he was back, I was sitting in the same position, trying to reign in the nerves from what might happen between us later.

I knew what kind of magic Rys Delano could do with his hands, and I had no doubt I wanted more than that with him. Maybe wanting him so much was the issue. Until him, I'd been only Brock's. My boyfriend took all my firsts, so why didn't I hesitate when Rys touched me last night?

Rys crouched down before me, holding a tube with some ointment. Before I could tell him my bruise wasn't a big deal, he squeezed the clear gel onto his fingertips and pressed them to my skin, rubbing it in circles. "Tell me if it hurts."

Tell me if you like it. Please.

His words from last night burst into my mind, setting my cheeks aflame.

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