Chapter Fourteen — Red
887 Words
The laughter still rang in Naomi’s ears.
The warmth. The acceptance. The sheer absurdity of it all.
Rhys’s family was… normal.
Too normal.
She couldn’t wrap her head around it.
How could a man like Rhys—dark, ruthless, untouchable—come from this? A home filled with warmth, teasing, love?
It unsettled her.
It made something curl in her chest, something foreign.
A bitter part of her wanted to reject it.
Because it was cruel—to see what a real family looked like when hers had only ever betrayed her.
"You okay?"
Rhys’s voice snapped her from her thoughts.
She blinked up at him.
Golden eyes. Sharpened, watching her too closely.
She swallowed, shifting in her seat. "I—yeah. I’m fine."
Rhys didn’t buy it.
But before he could push, a sudden crack split the sky.
Then the downpour started.
The wind howled, rattling the windows. The once-lively room dimmed.
Someone swore.
"s**t, that storm wasn’t supposed to hit until tomorrow," Lily muttered.
A gust of wind shook the house.
"Looks like no one’s leaving tonight," Rhys’s stepmother said with a sigh.
A chorus of agreements followed.
Rhys stiffened beside her.
Naomi frowned. "What?"
He exhaled, rubbing his temple. "It means we’re stuck here."
Her stomach flipped.
Stuck.
At his house. Overnight.
With his entire family.
And him.
Naomi forced herself to stay calm.
But then—
"You’ll be in the guest room, of course," his stepmother said kindly. "Rhys, you take the room next to hers."
Rhys went still.
The room next to hers?
He was about to argue—when Lily cut in.
"Oh, that room has a broken heater," she said innocently. "They can share."
Rhys shot her a glare.
Lily grinned. "Oops."
Naomi barely held back a groan.
---
The guest room was warm, dimly lit, cozy.
But Naomi couldn’t focus on that.
Because standing by the bed, shameless as ever, Rhys was pulling off his shirt.
Naomi’s breath hitched.
Muscle. Hard, lean, inked.
His entire torso was carved from stone, lined with dark tattoos that disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants.
Rhys smirked.
"You’re staring."
She snapped her eyes up.
He took a step closer. "We’ve already kissed so many times, Naomi. Why are you acting all flushed up seeing me shirtless?"
Heat flamed up her neck.
"Shut up."
She grabbed her things and rushed to the bathroom.
She slammed the door behind her, chest heaving.
Her heart was racing. Too fast. Too wild.
He was so damn infuriating.
And he was right.
They’d kissed.
More than once.
And yet—just the sight of him had her entire body betraying her.
She turned to the mirror.
Her reflection stared back—flushed, wild-eyed.
A thought crept into her mind.
A terrible, reckless thought.
She glanced down at the bag she’d packed.
At the deep red lingerie tucked at the bottom.
She swallowed.
Was she really going to do this?
Another crack of thunder shook the house.
Rhys was always the one in control.
Always teasing, always making her weak.
Tonight, she wanted to see how he’d react.
---
Rhys was lounging on the bed, one arm behind his head, scrolling through his phone when the bathroom door creaked open.
He barely glanced up. "Took you long eno—"
Then he froze.
Naomi stood there, bathed in the dim light, wearing nothing but red lace.
Scarlet silk clung to every curve.
Tiny straps barely held the delicate fabric in place.
The deep-cut lace left nothing to the imagination.
Her skin glowed.
Rhys went still.
Phone slipping from his hand.
Eyes darkening.
His jaw clenched so tight it could break.
Naomi took a slow, measured step forward.
"Something wrong?" she asked, voice light.
His nostrils flared.
"You’re playing with fire, Naomi."
She tilted her head. "Am I?"
She stepped closer.
The air thickened.
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
His fingers curled into the sheets.
"Naomi," he warned.
She reached for the strap of her lingerie, sliding it slightly off her shoulder.
His entire body tensed.
Then he moved.
Fast.
In a blink, she was on her back, pinned beneath him.
His body caged her in, forearms braced against the mattress, breath hot against her lips.
"You think I won’t ruin you?" he murmured.
Her breath hitched.
His fingers traced down her bare thigh, slow, deliberate.
"You walk out in this," his voice was dangerously low, "and expect me to let you go unpunished?"
Her heart pounded.
She parted her lips—
But before she could speak—
Rhys gripped her wrist.
Pulled her up—flush against him.
Their faces were mere inches apart.
The heat between them was blistering.
His golden eyes burned into her.
Then, ever so slowly—
He brushed his lips against her ear.
"Careful what you wish for, sweetheart."
Her entire body shuddered.
And just when she thought he’d finally close the gap—
He smirked.
And pulled away.
Naomi gasped.
Her skin was on fire.
Her breath came shaky, uneven.
Rhys, the bastard, just lay back down. Completely unfazed.
Like he hadn’t just set her entire world ablaze.
She clenched her fists.
She hated him.
And yet—
Her entire body begged for more.
She’d lost.
Again.
But next time?
Next time she’d make sure he was the one breaking first.
- Writer
