Red Hot Rebel - Olivia Hayle Page 0,85

of my father. Went months without touching my trust fund, seeing how long I could do without his money.”

I switch onto my side, propping up my head. “How long could you last?”

He runs a hand over his face. “I didn’t make it to my sister’s college graduation,” he says, voice half-muffled. “Stuck on a godforsaken island in the Pacific, with an old camera in hand and my resolution not to touch my inheritance in the other.”

The shame of that decision is clear in his voice. Pride had won that day, but it had cost him, too.

“Why photography?”

He looks over at me, hands dropping to his chest. “It’s one of the few arenas where money doesn’t matter. I’m either good enough or I’m not. And if I want to shoot the things I want to, if I want to create photography books and tell stories, I have to have credentials. Money or status can’t buy those.”

“And your father dislikes it?” I hedge.

Rhys snorts. “He sure does.”

I wet my lips and wonder if I’m making a terrible mistake in speaking the next words. But something about Rhys makes me think that’s a difficult thing to do. “You once said you prefer brutal honesty.”

“I did,” he says, an eyebrow raised. “Tell me whatever you’re thinking, Ivy.”

“Well, only that defining your life by what will make someone else unhappy strikes me as a terrible way of making yourself happy.”

Rhys shakes his head, but it doesn’t seem to be at me. He looks back up at the sky, so I turn my head and do the same thing, the stars expanding above us. I wonder if this is the most honest conversation I’ve ever had.

“I’m sorry, Ivy. That I ever called you air-headed and vain.”

I smile. “Yes, well, I’ve forgiven you for that.”

“Yes. You’re wiser than me in that way, too. I’ve seen how willing you are to change directions in life. To go after your dreams, or to re-evaluate them. How your father’s dislike of modeling didn’t seem to derail you.”

“At the end of the day, it’s my life,” I murmur. “My dad doesn’t always understand, but his opinions just mean he cares. They don’t drive us apart.”

“An absolute revelation to me,” Rhys says, but there’s a note of teasing in his voice. “The idea that one could have an uncomplicated relationship with your parents.”

I chuckle. “Revolutionary.”

“You helped me in other ways too.”

“Oh?”

His voice deepens, and something about it sends shivers over my skin. “You were so open with me. Hid nothing at all, not even the one thing you claimed you were most insecure about.”

“Hmm. Well, I never intended on sharing that.”

“And yet you did,” Rhys murmurs. “I’m happy you did, by the way. The effects were very pleasurable.”

My heart is dancing in my chest, words unspoken twirling on the tip of my tongue. I open my mouth to let them out when Rhys gets there first.

“I’m glad I met you,” he says.

“I’m glad I met you too,” I murmur.

He reaches out, tucking me against his side on the damp sand. I should care about the dampness on my borrowed dress, or the sand getting in my hair, about the late hour. But those things all seem trivial compared to the importance of living.

“You already have your ticket,” he says, his hand smoothing over my arm and raising goose bumps in its wake.

“My expression has really stuck, huh?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Are you asking me if I still want to explore?”

“I’d never say anything so crude.” He turns over and rises above me, blotting out the stars above. “Remember when you blushed, ordering that drink in Australia?”

I shake my head. “Rhys…”

“What was it called?”

“Sex on the Beach,” I admit, my leg hitching up to his hip. “But that would be crazy.”

“Would it? It’s dark out here, and there’s absolutely no one around.” He bends so his mouth fits over mine, kissing away fears, objections, thoughts, until my senses are ribbons in the wind. “I want to be a part of your every first.”

“You already are,” I murmur, my hands sliding up to his shoulders.

His mouth trails my neck, slipping down my body. I glance around us, but the narrow stretch of beach is deserted, the boardwalk empty, and the night covers all in a blanket of darkness. I barely make out his shape under the full moon.

So I guide his hand to my thigh and up the hem of my dress, because there are times in life when all you can do is focus on living.

24

Ivy

I wake