Page 122 of A Matter of Fact

“He’s into that whole marketing thing. He probably knows someone who would have some beneficial insight and could help you get a better pulse on what the city is after right now.”

“Should I tell him you referred me?” Beckett arched a brow.

“Probably not.”

Beckett laughed softly, the sound disappearing into the hum of conversation and laughter sprinkled across the beach. They lay together quietly like that, drinks in one hand, fingers of the other twined together and hanging loose between the chairs. Much like being with Beckett, it felt easy and simple. Practically natural.

The sun dipped down from the top of the sky as the afternoon dragged on, and Rhys noticed Beckett refused to stop fidgeting with his phone. Overall, that felt like a very UN-Beckett thing to do, but he didn’t want to draw attention to it. It was just something he did sometimes, especially if he got too far into his head about his sister, and that was a conversation best left to the past. He didn’t avoid it, but he knew Beckett was sore about it and he didn’t bring it up unless Beckett initiated it. Rhys didn’t know what he would do if Sebastian ever started to ignore him the way Jessica ignored Beckett. But his brother wasn’t delusional, either, so it seemed less likely to happen.

Finally, on the umpteenth grab, he said something.

“What on earth, Beckett?” he muttered, taking the phone out of Beckett’s hand and glancing at the screen.

“I made an offer,” Beckett blurted. “I’m waiting to see if it gets accepted.”

“That could take days, and with the time change…”

“I know.” Beckett grimaced. “This is so frustrating. How do you manage the stress of all the waiting?”

“I can’t remember,” he said, “but I can surely think of a way to distract you now.”

“Oh?” Beckett slid his sunglasses down his nose and gave him an inquisitive look.

“Mnhm.”

“Tell me more.”

“Let’s get out of here and I’ll tell you everything.”

Beckett jumped up from the lounger faster than Rhys had ever seen him move. He still had Rhys’s hand in his and Beckett practically dragged him back toward the hotel.

“One would think you’re deprived, darling,” Rhys drawled when his feet hit the cobblestone walkway that led to their villa.

Beckett didn’t say anything to that. He just hauled Rhys to their room, practically shoving him through the doorway once he unlocked the door. Rhys laughed, but beneath his collected exterior, he was hungry, desperate. He wanted Beckett as much as Beckett wanted him and there was no ask Beckett could come up with that would have Rhys telling him no.

He watched Beckett saunter past him into the bedroom of the suite. The bed was still unmade from when Beckett had taken him there earlier in the afternoon, and even though the window was open and he could smell the salt on the breeze, the room was still heavy with sex. Beckett kicked off his swim trunks and turned to face Rhys, his entire tanned and sandy body on display. He took his erection into his fist and gave a stroke, moaning like a whore before collapsing onto the bed with his legs spread, using his body to beckon Rhys closer.

While Rhys had done a lot of questionable things in his life, turning down sex had never been one of them. Turning down Beckett, another. But apart from that, Rhys knew he’d done some dubious things. He’d lied, cheated, and he’d manipulated. All decisions he’d made to bring about the outcomes he desired. And watching his fiancé naked on the bed, hard cock in hand and legs spread in invitation, Rhys would do them all again, a thousand times over, if every time it would bring him to this moment, and this man.

His man.

His happily ever after.