14. Rhys

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Rhys

He’s doing this on purpose.

That little shit is trying to get to me. I just know it. There’s no other reason he’d be wearing that ridiculous excuse for swimming trunks or taking approximately one million laps around the pool.

Except I’m the one staring down at him from the penthouse balcony. He probably has no idea I’m up here with my eyes caught on the way the muscles in his arms bulge as he takes another lap or the way those tight trunks hug his?—

Nope. This is not in my head. It’s a tactical move on his part and I am not biting.

But I stay still, smoking my cigarette like I hate it, eyes locked on his figure diving in and out of the pristine infinity pool below me. I hate to admit that this isn’t the first time I’ve caught myself watching him. No, in the last three days since I caught him fucking himself with that dildo—something that will forever be imprinted in my memory—he’s all I’ve thought about.

The pretty choked sounds he made. The intoxicating arch of his neck as he came. The sight of his little hole taking a pounding. The?—

I take another drag, falling into the pit of self-denial I’ve found myself in. I refuse to acknowledge this burgeoning attraction I have toward Everest Hill. To start, I’m not even into men. I think after twenty-three years, I’d know if I found men appealing in more than a general acknowledgement of attractiveness. I’ve certainly never pictured myself wanting to drag my hands down a solid chest or feel the scrape of stubble against my chin. I’ve never imagined taking my tongue and tracing the line of an Adam’s apple or holding a cock that wasn’t my own.

That’s all I’ve been able to focus on. I swear, fucking Everest.

Yeah, let’s fuck Everest.

Wait, what? No. Absolutely not. I slap the intrusive thought out of my head. There are so many reasons that’s a terrible idea. The first being that I hate his guts, actually despise him, and I don’t see that changing any time soon. All other reasons should and do pale in comparison to that.

Regardless, it doesn’t stop my traitorous dick from twitching when he exits the pool—all wet, dripping muscles—and looks up like he can see me clearly.

Then the fucker winks .

I kill the cigarette and turn away from the confusing sight. Heading straight to my room, I grab Elton’s old computer he gave me when mine died. I’m only half nervous when I put myself in a private browser and do what I’ve been thinking about the last few days.

After a few minutes, it’s conclusive. I’m straight. Nothing about gay porn excites me or my cock. Don’t get me wrong, it was hot, but it proves that whatever happened with Everest was a momentary blip of insanity. I was tired and caught off guard and that’s how he got the advantage. Nothing more.

I eye a particular thumbnail of a strong, thick man on his back, legs hiked up in the air, and raise an eyebrow. Just to be safe…

My phone rings, and I curse, shutting the laptop as if I’ve been caught. My face is red hot when I see it’s Elton calling, and I just know he’ll be able to tell what I was doing.

I clear my throat as I pick up. “Hey.”

“Were you just masturbating?”

Chuckling, I run a hand down my mouth. “That’s the first thing you have to say to me after days of not speaking to each other?”

“Aw, Rhys, do you miss me?”

“Fuck off, you know I do,” I laugh, shaking my head. “How’s Spain?”

“Holy shit, dude, it’s incredible. The food, the culture, the women.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes, even if he can’t see it. “Let me guess. You’ve already fallen in love?”

“She just doesn’t have a Visa, but we can take care of that.”

“Jesus, Elt…”

“We can talk about the future Mrs. Elton Hill later. How’s my little brother doing?”

My laughter stops abruptly, and once again I’m brought back to that damn night. “Everything is fine.”

“Why do you sound like I shouldn’t believe you? How are his classes going? Has he made any new friends? Is he eating?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” I growl, getting up when I realize I have to get ready for my shift.

“Um…”

I sigh at the indecision and worry in that one word. Part of the disdain I feel for Everest directly stems from how he’s treated his brother. He iced him out and basically cut him off as soon as Elton left for college. Elton would never admit it out loud—because that would make it real—but I know he’s hurt.

“It’s never going to get better unless you talk to him,” I say gently, knowing what’ll happen if I push too hard.

He must already be in a mood today because he shuts down and avoids exactly like I knew he would. “You know his birthday is coming up.”

“Is it?” I ask with disinterest, shimmying into my jeans.

“Oh, don’t be an asshole and pretend you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t,” I lie as I snag my cap from the dresser.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he says. Something sounds in the background. “Look, I have to go, but start thinking of stuff we can do on his birthday, okay? It’s soon ? —”

“The end of the summer isn’t soon.”

“Ha! So you do know when it is!”

I curse myself and Elton under my breath. “I’m hanging up on you.”

“Love you, bro. Be cool to my brother.”

“Yeah, love you too,” I grumble back, then hang up immediately, before he can give me any more things to do for him.

Jogging down the stairs, I groan at my phone when I see I’m running late. It’s when I’m looking down to text Britt that I run into a brick wall. Or at least that’s what it feels like. My head snaps up to meet Everest’s amused eyes. He takes a step back, barely, and why the fuck is he still not wearing any clothes?

He holds a plastic water bottle in his hands, fiddling with it as he looks me up and down. “You headed to work?”

“Clearly,” I mutter, but I don’t move away. Not when he steps even closer.

He chuckles, nodding slowly as he brings the bottle up to his lips. “You going to come home early again?”

It’s such an innocent question, but I know it’s anything but that. I feel vindicated as he takes a sip of his water, eyes locked on mine, his message loud and clear.

Are you going to be around for another show?

I act before I think, something that only tends to happen around him. Slapping the water out of his hands, I slam him against the fridge, only a bit satisfied when he hisses at the contact.

“I know what you’re doing,” I snarl, using the full length of my body to keep him trapped.

“And what am I doing?” he questions, breaths soft and puffy and expectant, not looking at all scared like I wanted him to.

I lean in closer to make sure he can see me and every intention I hold. “Whatever game you’re playing, you’ll find that I'm competitive as hell. Whatever you’re trying to do, I’ll win.”

“Really?” he snorts. Mischief dances in his eyes as he arches his back and rubs his hips against mine. “Does this feel like you’re winning, Rhys?”

The hard outline of his cock dragging against me makes everything in my body tighten.

But I still don’t move, no matter how much I know I should.

Instead, I wrap one hand around his throat, pressing my thumb uncomfortably under his chin to tip his face up.

Two can play at this game.

“Is this a cry for attention?” I smirk when his nostrils flare, and he tries to rip his face out of my hold. Doubling down my grip, I press his face so his cheek is plastered against the fridge and I can breathe my next words against his cheek. “Do you need someone to get you there, Everest? Is that slutty hole of yours desperate to be filled by something real?”

He bristles under my touch, momentarily shocked, before steeling his expression. “Fuck you.”

“You’d let me, wouldn’t you?” I continue, allowing myself to fall too deep into this. “You want to be a writhing, sweaty mess on my cock, don’t you? Show me, Everest. Show me that ass and let me wreck it for you.”

His breaths are coming out choppy and uneven, red coating his cheeks and down his neck, his cock thickening further. When he doesn’t say anything, I let go of his face and roughly shove the top of my thigh between his legs and relish the throaty groan that escapes his chest.

“There you go,” I taunt, moving my thigh from side to side as he starts to grind down on it. “So fucking needy.”

“Rhys,” he gasps. Hands latching onto my shoulders, his head thunks back against the fridge. “Please…”

“I know what you need,” I whisper, giving in to temptation and darting my tongue out against his ear. “You just need someone to make you feel special. Someone to tell you everything is okay.” Biting down on his lobe, I make sure his shuddering mess can clearly hear what I have to say next. “It’s pathetic.”

When I pull back, his eyes are wide with shock. He’s too stunned to do anything but stand there as I step back. Once my words finally register, he seethes, “I hate you.”

“The feeling is mutual.” Winking, I spin on my heels and call over my shoulder. “Good luck taking care of that by yourself.” And to add insult to injury, I taunt, “Try not to think about me when you do.”

When I step into the elevator, his response is cut off. Despite the confusing hard-on I’m sporting, I smirk.

Because I won that round.