Buried Alive Page 15

  I took a step, placing my beer on the other side of her, setting my hands on the counter, trapping her between it and my body.

  “I-I was thinking more like ice cream.” She licked her lip, making a panicky sound in her throat. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to kiss you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Hannah

  Holy hell. No.

  I couldn’t let that happen. Except my vocals and muscles didn’t make one movement to stop him.

  “I can’t seem to stay away from you.” He slowly leaned in, his mouth an inch away from mine, his breath tickling down my neck.

  Struggling to swallow, my heart thumped in my chest. Everything about him was too much. He could drown me with a look and destroy everything I was with a touch. I had to get away. But my brain ignored my plea, desire ripping through my body, curling around my breasts and hips.

  This was wrong on so many levels.

  “Please,” I whispered, my willpower draining out of me as though through an open wound.

  “Please what?” Rhys’s dark eyes met mine, his tongue sliding over his lips, drawing my focus.

  “Let me go.” My hands pressed back into the cabinets as if I were trying to move it, my voice husky. It was supposed to come out with some authority. Some inkling of truth. It came nowhere near.

  Rhys’s mouth quirked up into a half smile, his physique pressing into mine. “Is that really what you want?”

  A tiny part of my brain was yelling yes, but the rest? The rest was telling that portion to shut the hell up.

  “Say it then. Tell me to back off. Tell me you don’t want me to touch you…” His nose brushed my cheek, forcing me to choke in air. “You can walk out of here, and I’ll never bother you again.” His lips skimmed my face, his voice rumbling in my ear. “But I want nothing more than to taste you. To take you so deep you won’t even remember where you are.”

  My chest grappled for air, fluttering against his, my head dizzy. I couldn’t think clearly. His words and nearness clouded my judgment. He seemed to know exactly how to turn me on. My ex was sweet. Tender. But I didn’t realize how much I longed for someone to take me. Demand.

  “If you don’t want it, simply say the word, Hannah.”

  Nothing ventured off my tongue. My jaw locked. I should stop this. If he only knew…

  Truth crackled on my tongue like firecrackers but fizzled out the moment I opened my mouth. It had been locked away tight for so long, rusting into my soul. Stuck. My need for him overpowered my mind. I didn’t have the strength to say no. To tell him to leave me alone. I had been fighting him from day one. And it seemed I had lost the battle.

  He rumbled low in his chest at my silence and parted my legs with his knee, flattening me against the counter. I could feel every hard inch of him through the thin pair of sweats. The fabric of our clothes created more friction as he moved his hips.

  Oh god.

  My lips parted as I sucked in air, and my lids closed at the onslaught of desire.

  This is wrong, Hannah. He will hate you. The thought filtered through my head then out when his teeth grazed the sensitive part behind my ear, my head tipping to the side.

  “Open your eyes.” His voice was gruff and demanding. My eyes snapped open. His black irises seared into mine, as if the flames were so hot nothing was left but ashes. His fingers slid up my jaw, tangling in my hair, gripping my chin. His gaze went back and forth between my eyes, drenched in raw desire. Tugging me closer, his head dipped, his mouth hovering over mine.

  Oxygen pumped shallowly from my lungs, the craving to taste him, to feel his lips on mine forced a ghost of a whimper from my chest. His fingers dug into my scalp at my response.

  “Fuck...” He breathed out before his mouth crashed down on mine. Hungry. Primal. Brutal.

  Holy shit. Energy zipped up my veins, igniting my body as though I had leaned against an electrical fence. Everything that had been numb and dead burst to life with so much power it was almost painful. It turned me savage.

  My hands clutched his sides, pulling him into me, my mouth meeting his with even more intensity. He crushed his mouth against mine, his tongue parting my lips, sweeping into mine. All I could do was hold on as he consumed me. Breathing me in whole.

  He nipped, sucking on my bottom lip. A deep groan vibrated my chest, my hands sliding under his shirt, running down his torso. His muscles twitched under my touch as they explored him, moving under his sweats to his firm ass, his skin sizzling under my fingers. He leaned back and tugged his shirt over his head before his hands were back, pulling my face to his, his mouth claiming mine. My fingers traveled over his bare chest, moving lower, pushing down his sweats until the tip of him slid out, throbbing and wanting.

  All thoughts disappeared, desire making me dizzy.

  A strange noise came from him, and he gripped my hair, flooding my body with more heat. Then his hands moved to my ass as he picked me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist. Hot and firm, his cock throbbed against me.

  He started to move us, crashing into every surface, our hands and mouths frantic. He laid me on the edge of the island, tipping back away from me, his eyes scouring over me. He licked his lips, his fingers reaching for the shirt I wore of his and ripping it over my head, leaving me in a bra. “You’re even sexier in sweats than in your uniform.”

  “Oh really?” I squeezed my legs around him, forcing his lids to close briefly, a groan parting his lips.

  Grabbing my thighs, he yanked me in. “You can wear anything and look hot.” His hand trailed down from my neck to my belly button, sliding between my breasts. His palms skated around my bare flesh, blasting every nerve with sensation. “But I like you in my clothes the best. I want to see you in them again.”

  I blinked, equally turned on and impressed. Most twenty-one-year-olds were clichés. Rhys wasn’t, but with his past he had to grow up fast. His mind and body seemed well beyond his years. Confident, wise, and sexy as hell.

  “You think this is going to happen more than once?” I teased, shifting back, feeling my conscience start to seep in. What was I doing? You are horrible. You can’t do this to him…to yourself.

  His head tipped to the side, eyeing my retreat. He clutched my hips, yanking me forward, his gaze searing into mine. “It’s not only going to happen more than once, but so much…neither of us will be able to walk until well after I leave.”

  I gulped. “I wouldn’t want to be the reason you don’t win the championships.” I leaned in.

  “It will be damn well worth it.” He exhaled, his fingers slipping under the fabric of my bra.

  Fire flooded down my thighs, squeezing my lungs together. Snowboarding was everything. I should know. It came above sex, food, almost air. Winning a championship to become an Olympic hopeful? Nothing existed above it except getting the gold medal.

  It also reminded me that this—us—had an expiration date. After the championships in January, he would be gone, which should be a good thing. The seedy part of me wondered if I could enjoy this. Get away with a wrong. He would never know.

  “Rhys…” My voice quaked. Was I going to tell him? It would ruin everything.

  His hand ran up my cheek, his lips brushing against my jaw. “I love the way you say my name.” Before I could utter another word, his mouth was back on mine, consuming me in flames. His hands skated around, unhooking my bra.

  “Rhys.” My throat clogged as he slowly peeled it off me, leaving me heaving and exposed to him.

  “Shit,” he muttered, his black eyes glinting with desire. He leaned in, grazing my collarbone, then moving down. His tongue traced my nipple, then took it in his mouth.

  My head tipped back, my spine arching. Both his hands and mouth moving over my skin, waves of pleasure gripping me and burning me with desire. Grappling for oxygen, I groaned, which only spurred him to move to the other breast.

  My body had never felt so on fire, so desperate to be touched it hurt.

 
“I want to fuck you so bad. Until the last cabin down the hill can hear you scream.” He reached down, tugging at the enormous sweats I borrowed, easily sliding me out of them, leaving me only in my underpants.

  Shivers flooded my skin, shoving what I knew was wrong out of my mind.

  “Then stop talking about it and do it,” I challenged. His mouth curled into his famous bad-boy grin. Hannah was not aggressive or fearless, but Brennley was. The girl who eventually succumbed under the weight of her pain and vanished a long time ago. The girl who I thought died was rising from her tomb.

  He growled, grabbed me, and carried me over to the sofa and tossed me onto it. I wound my legs around him, keeping him tight against me, loving the feel of his weight pressed to my body. My heels kicked at his sweats, pushing them over his hips and down his legs. No underwear to fight off, which excited me more. He rumbled as his bare cock rubbed against my underwear. My nails grazed at his scalp, wanting to be closer, our kiss becoming desperate. I had kissed many guys, had several one-night stands, before I met my ex. I had felt nothing besides the immediate gratification, slipping out the door once it was over.

  Now I realized, even with Matt, I had forced myself to feel more than I did. Seeing the desire and love in his eyes, I thought I would grow to feel something as well. It never happened. I imagined I would have to live with the brokenness, the numbness.

  Yet all Rhys had to do was kiss me and the life I had denied myself for so long cracked through, leaking out like lava, making me burst with sensation.

  “Jesus,” Rhys grunted, our bodies moving, creating more friction. My hands went to the thin layer of cotton between us, wanting it gone. I started to shove them down, desperate to feel him slide into me until all my pain and darkness were gone. He went on his knees, ripping my underwear the rest of the way off, and tossed them into the corner.

  We stared at each other, our breaths heavy. His heated gaze raked over me so intensely I could feel it leave trails across my skin. I let myself drink him in. All of him. I had seen him shirtless, naked in the shower, just in briefs, but to see him ready for me…his body was so incredible I wanted to worship it. My eyes went lower. Holy, holy shit. Massive.

  I reached over, palming him, running up and down his length. Fuck. I want him inside me now. I tilted my hips, bringing him to me. He sucked in sharply, crawling back over me as the tip of him entered me.

  “Rhys?” A man’s voice bellowed from the front door, and we both froze in place. “Rhys, you okay, man? Carrie called me in a panic because you hadn’t answered your phone all day. She’s freaking out.”

  Carrie. Reality plowed into me, reversed, and ran me over again. Horror gripped my chest, crushing my throat until I couldn’t breathe. What am I doing?

  Footsteps clicked on the tile and headed for us, adrenaline rushing through my limbs. Shoving him away, I leaped up, snatching up the shirt Rhys tore from my body and covered what I could.

  “Rhys? Oh shit. Sorry.” Graham strode into the kitchen, his eyes going wide at seeing me mostly naked. He whirled around, facing the fridge. “I am so sorry.”

  “What the hell, Graham? Don’t you knock?” Rhys got off the sofa, tugging on his sweats, anger lashing out in his tone.

  “I did knock. Several times.” Graham peered at the ceiling. “You obviously were too distracted to hear me.”

  My cheeks blazed with embarrassment. This looked so stereotypical. The hotel staff screwing one of the hot snowboarders like a groupie. A onetime thing before he moved on to the next snow bunny.

  What the hell was I thinking? I hurried into the sweats, forgoing my bra and underwear, and tried to hold the loose clothing so it wouldn’t drop back to the floor.

  “But after the fifth knock, I thought you might have fallen down the stairs and broken your other leg. Possibly your head.” Graham shook his head, looking at his phone, tapping at it. “Should have guessed you were merely banging the waitstaff again.” There was no menace or emotion in his voice, simply nonchalant truth, as though he had no filter. As if he’d seen this so many times he had grown anaesthetized to it.

  Again. Acid turned to lead in my stomach.

  Obviously I was an idiot. Did I think I was any different from any other conquest? He didn’t know the truth. Didn’t feel the strange connection as I did. This was all about me searching for an anchor, a beacon, to keep from drowning…or being buried alive. Again.

  “Fuck you, Graham.” Rhys’s forehead furrowed with anger as he moved toward me. I took a step away.

  “I’m going to go,” I gritted through my teeth. Rhys Axton was the last person I should be turning to. No matter our connection now, he’d simply end up despising me.

  “Hannah…” Rhys reached for me.

  “No.” Turning my body away, I angled myself for the door, clutching my arms even tighter to my body. “Good night.” Trying to keep my head high, I walked to the door, shoving my feet quickly into my snow boots.

  The moment I closed the door behind me, the snowy breeze wrapped around my body, reminding me I’d left my jacket inside, my clothes in the dryer, my underwear and bra on the floor…along with my self-respect.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Rhys

  “What the fuck, Graham?” I marched to the kitchen counter, anger blistering down my arms. “What the hell was that?” I hit my fists against the granite. Five minutes ago, I had imagined an entirely different kind of pounding…with Hannah instead. How fast things had shifted. All thanks to the asshole standing in front of me, peering at me as though I had lost my mind.

  “Please, like your twenty-one-year-old dick needs any more pussy,” Graham scoffed, turning for the fridge, opening it. “You get laid more than all my other clients put together…and that’s saying a lot.”

  Rage twisted my muscles, and I clapped down on the counter, shoving down the need to punch him in the face. I’d had my moments with Graham when we didn’t see eye to eye. He could be a real asshole, single minded to the point of obsession in getting what he wanted. But most of the time it was for my benefit to advance my career forward, even when I didn’t care for the direction it was going.

  This wasn’t the first time he had caught me screwing a girl. But I had always shrugged it off. The girl usually did too. One girl actually got upset because it was Graham and not the press. We all knew the game.

  This felt different. Hannah felt different to me. There was something about her—a mystery I couldn’t figure out. The more time I had spent with her, the more of an enigma she became. One who drew me as much as the snow. She made me laugh. Challenged me. And unlike any other girl, she didn’t seem to give a crap I was famous. She actually seemed to shy away when the press got near.

  The moment Hannah Jennings walked into my hotel room, I felt a pull toward her as though she held something I had been searching for. And sometimes she looked at me as if I held the same for her. And the biggest surprise: I really liked her. I wanted to spend time with her. Not just to get into her pants.

  Fire and depth lived in her, but I barely got glimpses of this. For a brief moment I saw her pain, the horrors she kept locked away before the armor was back in place. Then with one word, “Carrie,” I saw her switch off her feelings in front of my eyes.

  “Don’t. I’m warning you.” I growled at Graham.

  He swiveled around, two beers in his hand. “Come on, Rhys, I’ve seen this before. You’ll be back with Carrie in a week.” He placed one of the bottles in front of me. “The press loves you two together. The prince and princess of the snowboarding world. They eat that crap up. And you need all the press you can get right now.”

  “Carrie and I aren’t getting back together.”

  “Right.” Graham’s head tipped back, a laugh spurting out. “Like I haven’t heard that a million times before either.”

  This time it was true, but I knew saying it would be a waste of time. Time would have to prove it, not my claims, which had been false so many times before.

&nbs
p; Damn, I had been so pathetic. Reality had come up and slapped me, and suddenly I saw myself. I had let Carrie dictate our relationship—when she wanted to be together and when it was over. I went along with her, not because I was whipped. It actually had nothing to do with her. I was just fighting my demons too hard to fight her as well.

  No more.

  “Speaking of.” Graham held up his cell, Carrie’s name written across the top. Graham held the phone out to me. I shook my head. I had to deal with her, but not at this moment. I needed to make it clear it was over in person.

  Graham clicked on the phone. “Hey, Car. Yeah, he’s fine. Out cold. Had his cell turned off.”

  I lifted my beer, thanking him, then turned away, my gaze roaming over the room. Hannah’s panties were balled in the corner, her bra under the barstool.

  She ran out as if she had almost made the biggest mistake of her life…and I let her leave.

  Shit!

  “No, I’m not going to wake him up. Nor should you come over. He needs to rest. He’s back to training tomorrow. He doesn’t need you to distract him. Night, Carrie.” A beep sounded. Graham shoved his cell back in his pocket. “That girl still thinks you’re together.”

  “Because she’s used to deciding when we are.” I sighed, rubbing my head, taking a large swig of beer.

  “You’re not serious about this waitress, are you?” Graham’s tone tightened.

  Falling into the sofa with a groan, I scoured my face. Fuck. I didn’t know what I felt.

  “You know it never works out. You will move on in a few weeks. Plus, I need your full focus on winning. The sponsorships will line up waiting to be the first to grab for you when you do.”

  I nodded, knowing how important sponsors were to me, my brand, even if they’d killed some of the passion of the sport.

  It was probably a good idea to put everything except snowboarding on the shelf. Focus on getting back up and winning the championships. Getting to the Olympics was all I ever wanted.