Something About Us-Chapter 61: Should We Live Together?

They lay entwined, the aftershocks of their shared release still rippling through their bodies. The air, thick with the musky, intimate fragrance of their mingled arousal, spoke of their shared passion.

Rhys's weight, a comforting warmth, pressed against her, a tangible reminder of their closeness.

He shifted slightly, his lips brushing against her temple. "Are you alright?" he murmured, his voice still husky with lingering desire.

Heather nodded, her eyes closed, savoring the lingering sensations. "Perfect," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

A comfortable silence settled between them, a quiet acknowledgment of the profound intimacy they had just shared. The rhythmic rise and fall of their breaths filled the space, a soothing counterpoint to the lingering thrum of their heartbeats.

Rhys's hand moved, tracing the delicate curve of her hip, his touch a gentle caress. He lingered there, his fingers exploring the soft skin, the subtle curve of her waist.

"I..." he began, his voice hesitant, then trailed off, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

Heather opened her eyes, her gaze meeting his. "What is it?" she asked, her voice soft and encouraging.

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching hers, as if trying to gauge her reaction. "I'm sorry," he finally said, his voice laced with remorse. "I remember falling asleep, and the next thing I knew, I was on top of you. I could have..."

Heather stared at him, his face etched with genuine apology.

She lifted her arm, her fingers gently tracing the line of his jaw. Rhys leaned his head into her palm, his eyes closing briefly.

"It's alright, Rhys. You didn't," she assured him, her voice warm and reassuring, wanting to erase the worry from his expression. "You asked. And I wanted it too."

He had almost breached her, yes. But he had stopped, respecting her boundaries, seeking her consent. Heather was grateful for his sensitivity, for his understanding of her wishes.

Eventually, Rhys stirred, his movements slow and gentle. He kissed her forehead, a soft, tender gesture. "We should probably... get some sleep," he murmured, his voice laced with a hint of reluctance.

Heather nodded, a soft sigh escaping her lips. "Yeah," she whispered, her voice heavy with contentment. "But we should clean this up first," she continued, her gaze drifting to her stomach, where the evidence of their shared intimacy glistened.

Rhys followed her gaze, his eyes widening slightly as he saw the remnants of their passion on both her stomach and his own.

"Right," he said, a faint flush creeping up his neck.

He reached for a pack of wet wipes in the bedside table drawer, pulling out one to gently cleanse Heather's stomach, then another for his own, discarding the used wipes on the floor.

"I'll clean that up more thoroughly later," he promised, his voice low.

He settled beside her, pulling her close. They shifted, adjusting their positions until they were comfortable, their bodies still pressed together.

Rhys pulled the blankets over them, tucking them in like a protective cocoon. The warmth of his body against hers was a comforting presence, a silent promise of closeness and affection.

As they drifted off to sleep, their breaths mingling in the quiet darkness, a sense of profound peace settled over them.

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The late morning sun filtered through the bedroom window, casting a warm glow as Rhys and Heather stirred from their slumber. Heather groaned softly, stretching her limbs languidly.

Rhys's arm remained draped possessively across her stomach, a comforting weight. She glanced around, her eyes still heavy with sleep, searching for her phone, then remembered leaving it in the bathroom.

With a playful nudge, she turned to face Rhys, hugging him close. "Wakey, wakey," she whispered, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his back.

Rhys groaned, his hold tightening, reluctant to leave the warmth of her embrace.

"Food," Heather declared, her voice a mix of playful demand and genuine hunger. "My stomach is demanding sustenance."

Grooooowl...

Rhys's smile widened as a low rumble echoed from Heather's direction.

"Did you hear that?" Heather groaned, clutching her stomach. "My stomach's staging a full-blown protest!" She playfully swatted at his chest.

"Oof," Rhys exaggerated, feigning pain. "Alright, alright, I'm getting up, you hungry beast."

"You better," Heather retorted, her voice playfully threatening. "Or I might just resort to cannibalism. You look particularly appetizing right now."

"Well," Rhys purred, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "I wouldn't exactly object to you devouring me." He let the double entendre hang in the air, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

Heather's face flushed crimson as the implication registered. "You!" she exclaimed, playfully hitting him again. "I'm too weak to even move, let alone...eat you!"

Rhys burst into laughter, dodging the pillow she hurled at him as he scrambled out of bed.

"Hahahaha," he chuckled, retreating from the bedroom. "I'll go make you something before you decide to take a bite out of my arm."

Rhys returned moments later, carefully balancing a bed tray. On it rested a plate of steaming pancakes and a mug of aromatic coffee, wisps of steam curling upwards.

He placed the tray on the bed, settling beside her.

"Breakfast is served, my love. Pancake mix was all I could find in the cupboard."

"Perfect," Heather replied, propping herself up against the pillows, the bed sheet draped loosely around her. "I haven't had time to go grocery shopping yet. Maybe later."

"We could go together," Rhys suggested, his eyes sparkling. "Unless you have other plans."

"No, I'm free," Heather said. "Don't you have any schedule today?"

"Nope," Rhys said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Today, I'm all yours. Though I have to leave early tomorrow. We're continuing the album tour."

"Oh," Heather's voice softened, a hint of sadness creeping in. "So, we won't see each other for a while, then."

"Hey, baby," Rhys said, gently cupping her chin. "You know it's all part of the job."

"I know," Heather admitted, her voice low. "And I know how much you love what you're doing. I understand. It's just...sometimes, I get these selfish feelings. I just want you here, always, beside me."

"I understand completely," Rhys said, kissing her temple. "I feel the same way. When I miss you, I just want to lock you away in a room where only I can get in..." He paused, then whispered in her ear, "and do all sorts of things."

Heather's cheeks flushed crimson at his suggestive words. She playfully swatted at his arm.

Rhys chuckled, his lips curving into a satisfied smile as he watched her reaction.

He leaned in for a quick kiss. "I'll just go charge my phone," he said, standing up.

"Aren't you going to eat with me?" Heather asked, her eyes following him as he walked away.

"Not hungry yet," he replied, a playful glint in his eyes. "I'll eat later," You, I mean. he thought, a smirk playing on his lips.

Heather finished her pancakes and coffee, but Rhys still hadn't returned. I thought he was just charging his phone. What's taking him so long? she wondered.

Deciding to investigate, she slid her legs out from under the bed sheet, picked up the empty bed tray, and ventured out of the bedroom. Rhys was nowhere to be seen.

"Babe?" she called out, placing the used plate and mug in the kitchen sink and the tray on the counter.

Following the sound of running water, she walked towards the bathroom. "There you are."

Rhys was filling the bathtub. "Were you calling me? Sorry, I didn't hear you over the water."

"Yes, I was. It's alright." She grabbed her toothbrush, squeezed toothpaste onto it, and began brushing her teeth.

As she brushed, Rhys moved behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. He kissed her shoulder lightly, then rested his chin on her shoulder, his gaze meeting hers in the mirror.

"Should we live together?" he asked, his voice low and thoughtful.

Heather paused, her toothbrush hovering near her mouth, a flicker of confusion crossing her face.

She rinsed her mouth, spitting the toothpaste suds into the sink, and turned to him.

"Aren't we already?" she asked, the question echoing her unspoken thoughts.

Rhys considered her words. While he often stayed at her place, it wasn't quite the same as truly living together. "No, not really," he said, his voice gentle.

He tightened his embrace, his chin resting on her shoulder again. "I want to be able to come home freely, without worrying about someone following me and discovering you."

Heather understood his concern, but a flash of hurt still flickered in her eyes, a vulnerability Rhys didn't miss.

"I know what you're thinking, Heather," he said, turning her to face him, his hands cupping her face. "And no, I am not ashamed of you."

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He met her gaze, his eyes filled with sincerity. "The industry I'm in can be harsh. Not everyone is bad, but some can be. The same goes for people outside the entertainment world. Some say the most hurtful things to people they don't even know. I don't want you to experience that."

He gently stroked her cheek with his thumb, his touch soothing.

Heather nodded, her voice soft. "I know."

"I love you," he said, his voice earnest. "And I would do anything to protect you from getting hurt."