I thought of all the connections my family had to powerful people in society and although it made me uncomfortable thinking about using those connections, I would to help us out of this. Fairchild thought he was untouchable, but for myself, for Rhys, and for Dean, I’d do anything to prove him wrong.
“I see I have your attention,” Fairchild said, sounding smug. “Good. I’ll be in touch about my fight, Morgan, so next time I call, answer the fucking phone.” He hung up.
Rhys’s fingers curled around his cell and seeing his knuckles turn white, I quickly extricated the phone before he threw it across the room. I set it on the desk and turned to him. “We can fight him. My parents have a lot of powerful friends and, although I’ve never thought about them in that way, Charles and Marion Brown are not people you mess with.”
“I thought the reason you wanted a fake relationship was to keep your troubles away from your parents?”
I stiffened. “Well, I’m not happy about the idea of going to them either, but I don’t think we should just allow this man to steamroll us. It’s better to ask for help from people who care about us than to let Colonel Dipshit blackmail us.”
Rhys’s eyes searched mine for what felt like eternity. Then he exhaled slowly. “Parker, you came to me—well, technically, Dean, but let’s not think about that—for help. This job means so much to you, you were willing to pay a guy to pretend to date you to keep it. I can’t let you jeopardize all that.”
I slid my hand up his chest, resting my palm over his fiercely pounding heart. “I don’t want to jeopardize it either. It scares me. A lot. But the idea of Fairchild using you, what that’ll do to you and Dean—that scares me too. Let’s just get through the charity fight. We don’t know what’s going to come of that. Once we know what cards we’re holding, we can deal with Fairchild. For now, we’ll just find ways to hold him off.”
Rhys continued to frown. “I don’t want you choosing me and Dean over your job. You’ve worked your ass off for that job. It’s important to you.”
“You’re important to me too, Rhys.”
Quite abruptly, Rhys wrapped his hand around my nape and hauled me up his body for a hard kiss. I whimpered in surprise, and he lifted his head briefly to growl, “You really have no idea, do you, Tink?”
Before I could respond, he lifted me back up into his arms and kissed me with a breath-stealing desperation. His mouth never left mine as he tried to walk us out of there. We bumped into a wall, or two—our laughter and groans, his grunts and my moans, filled the corridor as he took us to the elevator that led to his loft.
Once those doors closed, he started grinding into me, kissing me until I could barely breathe with the anticipation. My whole body was on fire.
“You wet?” He kissed my neck below my ear.
“You know it,” I gasped, clutching at him as he thrust against me again. “Rhys!”
“You want me to fuck you, you gotta say it, Tinker Bell.”
Trembling with need, I turned my head and whispered in his ear, “I want you to fuck me, Rhys.”
He shuddered beneath my hands and just as soon as those doors opened, Rhys stumbled into the loft and set me down on the nearest bit of furniture—his dining room table.
His beautiful green eyes blazed with desire as he slid his hands up my dress to pull my underwear down my legs. I leaned back on my hands, my inner thighs trembling as I watched him hurriedly take a condom out of his wallet, undo his jeans, and push them and his boxer briefs down just enough to free himself.
Once the condom was on, Rhys grabbed my hips and pulled me to the edge of the table so I could wrap my legs around his waist. Without further ado, he drove inside me with a deep-seated groan of satisfaction. Holding onto his left shoulder with one hand and the tabletop with the other, I braced against his vigorous thrusts, gasping as the tension he’d built in me just by grinding in the elevator grew to the breaking point.
I loved when he was tender … but my goodness, I loved when he lost a little of that control and took me like he’d die if he didn’t.