Brothers of Paradise Series

One after one, the stars in the sky start to come alight, until it’s shimmering above us, the Milky Way on full display. It’s breathtaking. Unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. “It’s because we’re in the Southern Hemisphere,” Rhys says. “The constellations are different.”

“Wow.” This is one of those experiences I can tell Penny about, but she won’t really believe or understand the true magic of. Standing on a dune in the middle of nowhere, under the wide-open heavens, with Rhys by my side.

I shiver. The air turns cool quickly out here when the sun’s abandoned us. Deserts are mercurial that way.

Rhys notices, and nods to the Jeep. “Feel like reclining?”

“On the hood?” I climb into the open space I’ve made, pulling at the silken dress. “I think I’ll take the inside of the car this time.”

“How traditional,” he says. “I thought you were more adventurous than that.” But he follows me inside, closing the trunk behind me. I tug the door on my side shut too, locking us in.

“No lions.”

He laughs as he cracks the front windows for air. “They can’t get in through this.”

“Good.” I rummage through the duffel bag for the sweater and pull it on over my silk dress. The Jeep might be large but it’s still a tight fit, what with the two of us.

“Cold?”

“A tad,” I admit. “I wasn’t exactly dressed for this.”

Rhys reaches for something, and then I’m handed a soft jacket. “Put this over you too.”

“You’ll get cold, too,” I protest. “The night’s just getting started.”

“Well, in that case I’ll steal it back,” he says. “Come on, I’m not the one who’s wearing a silk shift.”

I accept the weight of the jacket and turn on my side, facing him, head on the duffel bag. He rearranges himself too, stretching out.

“Do you have enough space?”

“It’ll do.”

“Your legs can’t fit.”

He snorts. “Not really, but I’ll manage.”

I try not to say what I do next, but I can’t help it, not really. “So I’m sleeping with a guy two nights in a row.”

Rhys laughs. “Once you start, you’re really committed, I’ll give you that.”

“Who knew?”

“Not me, that’s for one.” He turns onto his back, his shoulder now only inches from my face. There’s not enough space here to sleep like we had last night, an ocean of linen apart. The thought sends a shiver of something unidentifiable through me. Anticipation. Excitement. Nerves.

“I’m still waiting, you know,” he says.

“For what?”

“For you to ask me the first of whatever sex-related questions had you so flustered last night.”

I groan into the duffel bag. “There’s no good way to start.”

“The best way to start is just to do it.”

“That sounds like a motivational poster.”This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Damn it,” Rhys says, “you’re right. Give me another try, and I’ll find some quote by Hemingway.”

“The moment’s passed.”

He shakes his head in the darkness. “You’re tough. I respect it.”

“Thank you.”

“I can start, then, because you bet I have questions for you.”

I fold my hands under my head and try to think past the excited ball of nerves in my chest, in my stomach. “Okay.”

“Have you ever wanted to sleep with a man? If you disregard the fact that you haven’t met someone who wasn’t a creep, or felt brave enough to try.”

“Yes.”

“Yes?” He tucks a hand under his head. “Meaning you’ve been turned on by a man before?”

“Yes, I have.” I bite my lip, and then power on. If I’m ever going to get the ticket to Sexville… “I mean, I have seen sexy scenes in movies, read books, seen guys that I found attractive on the street.”

“Ever watched porn?”

“Christ, Rhys.”

I can’t see it, but it’s easy to hear the wolfish grin on his face when he speaks. “What? Perfectly normal thing to ask someone you work with.”

I’m glad I can’t see his face, because I don’t think that would make this any easier. “I have, yes.”

“Hmm,” he says, the sound of a man deep in thought. “And you have no trouble getting off to that?”

“Rhys!”

He chuckles into the darkness. “All right, all right. Maybe you need to ask me questions first before you feel comfortable answering a few of my own.”

I rack my brain for questions to ask, but all the ones I most want to know feel almost too crude to speak. Does he watch porn? What does he like women to do in bed? Would he be turned off by someone’s inexperience?

I tug his jacket tighter around myself, tucking my arms close to my body to keep from the cold. It smells like him, and the memory of the bridge resurfaces, as it has so often these past days.

“The kiss in Paris,” I say, because there’s no thinking now, apparently. It just slips out. “What did it mean for you?”

Ivy