Twisted-Games

Bucket list number four.
My breathing sounded shallow in the tiny, intimate alcove. It wasn’t
right, the power this man had over me, but I was helpless in the face of my
heart, hormones, and the indomitable force that was Rhys Larsen.
After what felt like an eternity, but in reality was only a few seconds,
Rhys spoke. “I didn’t get a chance to say this earlier,” he said. “But happy
birthday, princess.”
Thump, thump, thump, went my heart. “Thank you.”
He didn’t let go of my wrist, and I didn’t ask him to.
The air between us thickened with unspoken words.
I wondered if we would’ve worked in a different life, a different world.
One in which I was just a woman and he was just a man, unburdened by the
rules and expectations of others.
And I hated myself for wondering those things because Rhys had never
given me any indication he was interested in me beyond physical attraction
and professional obligation.
None, except for the fleeting moments when he looked at me like I was
his whole world, and he never wanted to blink.
“How are you enjoying the ball?”
I might’ve imagined it, but I thought I felt his thumb rub the soft skin of
my wrist.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
“It’s fine.” I was too distracted by what might or might not be happening
to my wrist to come up with a better answer.
“Just fine?” There it was. Another thumb rub. I could’ve sworn it. “You
spent quite a bit of time with the Earl of Falser.”
“How do you know which one the earl is?”
“Princess, I know every man who even thinks about touching you. Much
less one who you danced with. Twice,” Rhys added, the word lethally soft.
It should’ve frightened me, but instead, my skin tingled and my thighs
clenched.
What is wrong with me?
“That’s quite a talent.” I’d only danced with Edwin twice because he’d
insisted, and I was too tired to argue.
Rhys’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So. The Earl of Falser. Is he the
one?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Not unless I want to spend the rest of my life