Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
SKYLAR
SKYLAR: I think he made dinner.
AINSLEY: For breakfast? Why the hell would he make dinner for breakfast?
SKYLAR: LAST NIGHT.
AINSLEY: Well, that makes sense. Wait, why are you overthinking?
SKYLAR: He made dinner for me. Like, in a bowl.
AINSLEY: Ok. And this is?
SKYLAR: A, he put food in a bowl for me. Then…said things.
AINSLEY: And you expected anything less after the hallway hotness?
M y eyes drifted to where the second floor of the main house peeked over the trees. To where his bedroom had to be. I shut them quickly, forcing myself not to picture him up there. Naked. Because he would be the kind of man who slept naked.
SKYLAR: I did not expect him to do THAT.
AINSLEY: Oh, sweet summer child, the dude ravaged you in a hallway, bought out your contract from the evil record company and you didn't think he'd be all seductive and sexy on your hot ass?
SKYLAR: A!
AINSLEY: Insert eye roll. Buckle up, buttercup. And ride that cowboy.
SKYLAR: You're impossible.
AINSLEY: And right. Now, go coffee up, get all namaste and write some amazing magic with that man. Love.
Thank God the guest house had a fancy coffee maker, so I could at least have a mug or two of coffee before facing the man who occupied my dreams last night.
I blamed it on the damn salad, if you could call it that. Between the mint, cilantro, lemon, and grilled chicken, plus whatever was most certainly NOT iceberg, I moaned indecently with every bite. Yep, the salad made me have hot, naked sex dreams about Rhylan Morgan. I had nothing to do with it. I refused to ask him to do anything to me, no matter what he thought.
Arrogant asshole.
Who made you dinner. And not just any dinner, but the fanciest salad in the world of salads. With homemade everything.
How did I know he did, and didn't order delivery? There were remnants of prep and cooking scattered about damn kitchen, obvious signs that someone had made lunch. A pan on the high end stove. A cutting board, knife beside a few green leafy pieces that smelled amazing. Lemon rinds, and a bowl with a whisk.
We were the only two in the house. Rhylan didn't even have a gardener who stopped by the trim a bush, or a housekeeper to clean up after him.
When Rhylan said those things, honey dripped down my spine and I knew if I opened my mouth, I would beg him to touch me. Kiss me the way his eyes said they wanted to. Begging was not out of the question. So instead, I grabbed the bowl, and hightailed it back to the guest house, but not before looking over my shoulder one last time.
To Rhylan, staring at me like he knew what my dreams were going to be filled with.
Nope. Stay strong, Sky. Remember the plan, and why you're here.
Phase two. My special delivery should be here any moment, at least according to the tracking my favorite toy company sent. And I wasn't talking about Lego or Hello Kitty.
Though, these toys definitely made me purr.
An hour later, I walked through the same glass door after giving the stormy-looking sky an extra moment of my attention. The weather app said the tropical storm that was threatening to hit early in the morning was building in intensity over the ocean and gaining strength. The clouds were just the forbearer of bad news. Inwardly, I pouted, missing the sun and the chance to read on the beach for at least a little while. But I was trapped here for just under two weeks, and the storm was supposed to blow through by Monday night.
Coffee cup in hand, I prepared myself for the onslaught of whatever Rhylan decided to throw at me, but the living room was empty. In fact, the house was eerily quiet. I made my way to the kitchen and found a note on the counter.
Swallow,
Looks like we might be staying in for a few days. Just grabbing a few things we might need and making sure my boat is taken care of. Be back by this evening for our writing session. Leftovers in the fridge, help yourself. Hope you're ready to learn…
Ace ;)
Arrogant asshole.
A few days trapped with Rhylan Morgan. Not that I planned on going anywhere before I knew Mother Nature decided forced proximity was a thing, but not being able to leave was a whole extra level of awareness.
I spent the day exploring the house, from the library off the main living area, to the office, to the very masculine office with various awards on shelves, to the second-floor guest rooms. I couldn't bring myself to open the door to what I assumed was Rhylan's room, not because I wasn't curious, but because I was. Temptation pulled at me, and there was no way I would let myself be taken in. With my luck, he'd walk in on me, rolling on his damn bed.
Which I was sure would be a damn California King.
The lower level felt more like a musician's paradise than a basement. When I was outside, I missed the fact that there was a walk out with a private courtyard that housed a hot tub and what looked like a waterfall. Back inside, I discovered the recording studio, along with a room that had a baby grand and any musical instrument you dream of. Records and various awards adorned the walls.
I grabbed a quick lunch, then went back to the guest house and sat down with my guitar, munching and writing in a notebook until the sky grew dark, not because of the sun setting, at least not yet but because of the building cloud cover from the impending storm.
Which was now predicted to become a Category Two by the time it made land. The alerts warned of high winds, torrential rain, and possible power outages.
Great.
A knock on the door made me jump, I had been so engrossed in writing. Who else stood outside the door, but Rhylan. Water soaked his t-shirt, the material clinging to the hard panes of his chest. The shorts he wore were also wet, the material pasted to his body. And the rather large bulge he didn't bother to hide.
The way his eyes took me in as he held the medium-sized box, dark and dangerous, sent shivers down my spine. Full of promises to be kept. "Your toys arrived, Sparrow. Careful, or I'll make you show me how you use every damn one of them." He set the box down just inside the doorway, then walked away. "See you in ten for our first session."
Damn the man. But, who won this round? I giggled. That happy friend in his pants told me he checked out the box. And all the fun I planned on having.
Two hours later, we were just getting into a groove when Rhylan stood up and announced we were done.
"What do you mean?"
He gathered up the papers scattered on the low table in front of the comfy couch and put them in a neat pile. The first half hour had been awkward. I hadn't written with anyone except Ainsley, and twice with Jagger.
But writing with Rhylan felt more intimate, which made it harder for me to settle in and figure out how he wrote. Plus, he kept trying to not look at my cleavage.
I may have changed into a low cut tank and frayed shorts. I snatched a cardigan before coming down. As I read the note he left, I slid one arm into the sleeve and shrugged it on. When I explored the lower level earlier, it had been cooler than the rest of the house.
"I need to finish closing things up before the storm gets closer, and you need to move your things, at least whatever you'll need for a few days, into my guest room."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want the lounge chairs blowing around or things slamming into the windows."
I let out an exasperated sigh. "Why do I have to move anything?"
He chuckled, roughing a hand over the stubble along his jaw. "You've never been in a hurricane, have you?"
With an eye roll, I cocked my head. "Not many in Nashville or back home."
"You won't be able to walk outside without getting blown away, Swallow."
"Fine. I'll get my things. Which room?" Hands on my hips, I dared him, chin lifted and not giving an inch.
He smirked as his eyes roamed along my body. Possessive and heated.
The words he said to me echoed in my head.
I own you.
"The one across from mine, Skylar. Just in case you need me. And don't worry, this house is pretty sturdy. And we can bunker down here if need be."
"Need be?"
He stepped into my space, the scent of his body and whatever soap he used filled my nostrils. "Need, Skylar, is a powerful thing. You'll see."
The rain began at two a.m., at first a light drizzle that built until there was a steady downpour falling in an oddly peaceful cacophony outside my window. I rolled over on my side, watching the rivulets snake down the glass. The outside was darker than any night I'd ever remembered seeing. But then again, I had always lived in the city, where the light pollution blocked out the night sky. Last night, before I fell asleep, I stared at the stars in the sky, eyes wide with wonder. It was beautiful in a way that made my heart ache.
But this was entirely different. Lightning danced out over the ocean, lighting up the night for the briefest of seconds, yet revealing nothing. All her secrets tucked safely away from the thieves who tried to take them from her. The storm and flashes of light only there to check in and make sure she was where she wanted to be.
I wonder if Rhylan is watching the lightning dance across the sky like I am, I thought. Then cursed myself for my foolishness. I didn't care if he was.
Right. Keep lying to yourself, Sky .
My lips twitched remembering how we sparred while writing, at first because we were figuring out the other person's methods, then because we kept trying to one up the other. Until we stopped for the night.
I rolled over and grabbed my phone, and typed out a quick message before I changed my mind.
SKYLAR: I never knew the sky could be so beautiful, even in a storm.
A few seconds ticked by, then the dots jumped as he typed a response.
RHYLAN: The beauty is always there, Swallow. Hidden or secret, no one can take it away. You ain't seen nothing yet. Sweet dreams.
SKYLAR: Sweet dreams.
A small smile kissed my lips. I sat my phone back on the nightstand, tucked my hand under my chin, and watched the storm dance over the ocean until I couldn't keep my eyes open any more.