Something had changed between her arrival and right then.
I just had no idea what.
During a lull—or as much of one as we were gonna get—I cornered Harlow at the far end of the bar where no one could hear. “Question for you.”
“Lucky for you, I’m filled with answers today. What’s up?”
“Does Lo seem off to you?”
“No. Why?”
“She’s dodging me.”
Her gaze darted to the side, then back to me before she cringed. “That’s probably my fault. She was asking about your relationship, umm,preferences. For believability. She’s probably figuring out how to pivot to that. Or maybe she’s already jumped in with the quiet, submissive thing.”
The thought of Lo submitting to me hit me in the gut and dick, but I knew that was right up there with all my other unrealistic fantasies of her. I would settle for her acting the role like Harlow suggested, but that wasn’t what was happening. If it was, Lo wouldn’t be racing away as soon as I got close. She wouldn’t be discreetly shifting to avoid my touches. She wouldn’t be so damn blank.
Christ.
The way I liked things wasn’t a secret because I’d never been ashamed of it. She’d already heard some from Daisy and was smart enough to piece together a general idea. But I knew how it could make me look.
Well, that fuckin’ answers that, doesn’t it?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
RIGHT TO REMAIN HORNY
LUNA
Iwas going to kill Rhys.
That was probably the wrong mindset to have when I was supposed to be protecting him. But even that was likely coming to a glorious end—thank God.
After nearly two weeks of prep and undercover work, I was ready to go back to my normal life. One that would hopefully include Harlow and Piper. And Ophelia. I really liked her.
I was ready to have downtime that was actually relaxing. I’d spent my two days off from Rye still thinking about it from both job perspectives. Possibilities with the case. Brushing up on my drink recipes. I’d also spent a fair amount of time checking the alerts, tracker, and cameras.
I was ready to stop being touched and kissed like Rhys had the right to do either.
And I wasextraready to stop holding my tongue in the name of professionalism and the assignment.
Rhys was mocking me.
Because he would not leave me alone.
Don’t get me wrong. I was doing my job. I was doingbothof my jobs, and I was doing them damn well, thank you very much.
But neither of them involved him having to touch me so much. He didn’t have to flash me his charming, dimpled smile for it to always twist into a smirk. Like he was so damn amused at the unbelievability of dating me.
A smirk that said the whole relationship wasn’t just fake.
It was a joke.
AndIwas the punchline.
Somehow, Rhys knew I was teetering on the edge. He chose that moment to place an unnecessary hand on my lower back—so low, in fact, it was partially on my ass—as he slid behind me to grab a can of seltzer from the cooler.
I shifted away.