Flawless: A Small Town Enemies to Lovers Romance

Kip: Why did Rhett send me a text saying that I’m fired?

Summer: He. Didn’t.

Kip: He did. It said, “Fuck professionalism and fuck you. You’re fired.”

Summer: Well, he’s not wrong. That certainly isn’t very professional. I don’t think you’re actually fired though.

Kip: Of course I’m not fired. That asshole is stuck with me.

Summer: How is your shoulder? Are you taping it? Do you want me to come tape it?

Rhett: Fine. Don’t come back here. It smells like sweaty balls.

Summer: Thank you for the vivid description. I was reading about pulsed electromagnetic field therapy for rotator cuff injuries. Maybe we should try it? There’s a physiotherapist in the city who does it.

Rhett: I was kind of just hoping you’d give me more massages? But topless this time.

Summer: I’ll do that if you go to the appointment I scheduled for next week.

Rhett: Daily massages. Where you ride my dick while rubbing my shoulder. Then I’ll go.

Summer: Is your shoulder that bad?

Rhett: No, Princess. Your pussy is just that good.

Watching Rhett tonight has me wanting to hurl my fifteen-dollar arena beer all over the people in front of me. Emmett went first and had a great ride, something I know Rhett saw because he was sitting up on top of the gate with Theo watching.

I saw the flash of competition in his eye. He spent all night with his dick inside of me and still looks like he could kill the guy.

There’s this tiny part of me that wishes he’d just hop off that fence and retire on the spot. I want him safe. I want him to win too though. I want that for him.

But I also want him for myself.

It’s fucking confusing. I’ve never worried about another person this way, and that’s saying something, considering I’ve spent my entire life worrying about everyone around me.

Theo hops down onto his bull now, giving Rhett a bit of an unhinged grin as he does. I watch Rhett talk to him as Theo rubs at his bull rope, nodding—listening. There’s an intensity about their conversation right now that I haven’t noticed before.

Usually, things are lighthearted and friendly between them, but tonight there’s a definite mentor feel to their interaction. It’s heartwarming and nerve-wracking all at once.

The bull slams itself against the metal sides of the chute, and where I noticed Rhett back off in similar situations, Theo grins, drops his chin, and nods.

The gate flies, and so does the bull, like a bat out of hell. Theo looks like a younger, smaller Rhett, spurs riding up every time the bull bears down. He rides like his life depends on it. And based on how riled his bull is and how many times it switches directions, I would say his life actually does depend on it.

I barely know Theo, but I hold my breath all the same. On my nights spent sitting in the stands, I’ve seen other guys get head butted and stepped on. I’ve seen them leave strapped down on a stretcher.

In a lot of ways, it’s hard to watch, in others . . . I can’t tear my eyes away.

So, when Theo jumps off and tosses his hat in the air, I shoot up and cheer. The bull lopes out of the ring, chasing the clown, and Theo soaks up the cheers of the crowd. He scores himself a 90, which pushes him to the top of the standings for this weekend.

When I look back over at the fence, Rhett is sitting there, grinning ear to ear. So damn proud, chest puffed out, pride spilling off him.

He also looks fucking delicious. Dark and mysterious with his hat pulled down low on his face, charcoal shirt under his bull riding vest, and those simple warm brown chaps.

So. Good.

When he hops down to go stretch and warm up, my momentary calm dissolves and the nerves creep in.

I hate the feeling. I hate that I’m having it. I’ve come to terms with death in a lot of ways. Knowing that your time could come at any moment at such a young age does weird things to you. Somehow, the thought of me dying is easier to swallow than the thought of having to sit here in the stands while something might happen to Rhett.

I don’t want to be this girl, telling him not to take risks because my heart can’t take it. So, I push it down, like he told me he does.

I take a few big swigs of beer and let myself eavesdrop on the surrounding conversations. And when it’s Rhett’s turn, I take bigger gulps.

I watch him every moment, absently aware that it could be the last. It’s like time slows down. I see his cocky smile, the way his cheeks fold beside his mouth when he gives it. I can almost feel the raspiness of his beard on my neck just by watching him.

He pulls at the bull rope, looking hypnotized, and I try to slip into that too.

And then he does something he’s never done. He peeks up at me from beneath the brim of his hat, like he knew exactly where I was sitting.

He winks at me.

And then he nods, and the gates fly open.

“You were so close.”

The rippling of water sounds as Rhett swipes a facecloth over my back. This shitty hotel bathtub is too small for the two of us, but we’re packed into it anyway. He told me if I’m going to continue to force him to take Epsom salt baths that I have to come in with him.

So here I am, seated between his legs in the hottest, smallest bath known to man.

While Rhett Eaton washes me. And kisses me.

This is how I want to go.

“Ah, if I’m going to lose to someone, I’d have it be Theo. Give him a year or two, and he’ll be winning left and right.”

“So, like . . . a newer, shinier version of you?” I tease, but it ends in a gasp when he wraps my hair around his fist and gives it a tug.

“Watch that pretty little mouth, Summer,” he murmurs against my ear.

His erection presses against my back, but we’ve mostly ignored that in favor of just soaking for a bit.

“Or what?” My lips tip up as I glance over my shoulder, hoping to egg him on.

He chuckles, making goosebumps race over my flushed skin. “Or nothing. I’m out of condoms.”

“I don’t know if they taught you this at cowboy school, but I can’t get pregnant from giving blowjobs.”

He reaches around and roughly squeezes one of my breasts as he pulls me back against him. “Jesus, woman. The things that come out of your mouth sometimes.”

I giggle and soften against him. “Fine. Fine. You started it.”

“Started what?”

“This.”

I feel the rumble in his chest against my shoulders. “I did not.”

“You did. You kissed me first,” I joke.

“Huh. I thought you said that meant nothing.” He trails the washcloth over my arms now.

I close my eyes and sigh. I did say that. And at the time I meant it, or at least I wanted to. “I needed it to mean nothing so I could maintain some sense of professionalism.” It’s a painfully honest statement, and there’s a part of me that wishes I could take it back.

But for as much as Rhett and I rib each other, I don’t think he takes me lightly. Men who take a woman lightly don’t look at a woman the way Rhett looks at me.

That look could be all in my head.

Maybe I’m unraveling over a look that doesn’t even exist.

“Is taking Epsom salt baths with your clients something they teach you at law school?” His chest shakes under the strain of trying not to laugh at his own joke. Dork.

I groan and cover my face with my hands. “Rhett.”

He presses a kiss to the crown of my head. I’m pretty sure just to keep himself from laughing.

“It’s not funny. I don’t know what we’re doing here. And I’ve spent years in school and tens of thousands of dollars on it to do this job. This is . . . I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I think you do. I think you’re doing what you want for the first time in your life and that’s scary for you.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“I think you don’t need to worry about if I’m a client or not. I think that has nothing to do with what’s between you and me.”

“It’s the perception—” I try to say, but he interrupts me.

“What perception? Have you done this before? You planning to do it more in the future? Or does what’s happened between us have nothing at all to do with what either of us do for work? Do you think if we’d met under different circumstances, it would be different?”

“You might have been less of a growly prick to me,” I say, trying to steer the conversation away from what feels like something bigger than what I’m ready to face.

“I’m serious, Summer. I’m not sure why you keep talking about our jobs like it matters. We’re not doing anything wrong. I think Doctor Douche has you scared that there’s something shameful about being with another person. That you need to hide something you don’t.”

Well, shit. Is he right? I flip through the mental Rolodex of my past relationships.

I’ve never taken guys out with me. Never introduced them to my family. Once Willa straight out asked me if I was gay before assuring me she’d be cool with that.

Maybe the early input of thinking I needed to hide a relationship with genuine feelings made me believe that was true.

“I . . . well . . . fuck.”

He squeezes me and nuzzles against the back of my head. “I’ve always done whatever I want. Never been big on what other people think I should be doing. I imagine a person somewhere in between the two of us would be ideal, because I’ve probably burned a few bridges along the way.”

I snort at that. “You’re probably not wrong. I—” I start to protest, but he cuts me off.

“What if you stopped worrying about everything that could go wrong and just let yourself enjoy how right this feels?”

He presses a wet kiss to my back and my body comes alive as his calloused palms slip over my soapy skin in the most sensual way. My head tips back and I sigh at the feel of him playing my body with such finesse.

It does feel right.

“I’ll burn more bridges to take a kick at the can with you, Summer. Give me a shot.”

My lashes open and close rapidly. My heart is flipping over something that my brain can’t quite process. My can feels thoroughly kicked by everything he’s just said. My tongue is also thoroughly tied.

Rhett just leaves it, though, carrying on. “You said once that you’d become a personal trainer?”

I go still. Did I mention that? “I don’t remember that.”

“I do. I read between the lines. I’ve seen you work out. I’ve seen how hard you work and how reliable you are. If you could do anything as a job, would it be what you’re doing right now? What Kip does?”

I roll my lips together, grateful that I don’t have to face anyone right now. “Probably not.” My voice cracks when I confess it.

“Then why do you do it? Why keep up the charade?”

I exhale. “It’s not . . . it’s not a charade. It’s just, I enjoy seeing my dad happy. I know how proud he is of me. I know he likes having me at the office with him even though he acts like a psycho prick sometimes. He fractured his family to keep me. He gave up so much, and when I got sick, he dropped everything to be with me every day. I just feel like living up to some of those things for him is the least I can do, you know? I just feel like . . . God, this sounds terrible to say, but I feel like if it wasn’t for me, his life would be so much easier. And if I can help him by being a part of the business he’s spent his life building, if I can carry that on for him, well, that’s the least I can do to repay him.”

Rhett doesn’t respond. He just keeps stroking my arm. “I can’t speak for Kip, only the way he’s talked about you and your sister over the years in passing. And he may be a psycho prick, but he doesn’t strike me as the type of man who expects repayment for time spent with his daughter.”

My eyes sting, and I nod. There’s a little voice at the back of my people-pleasing head that’s screaming yes! I think I know deep down that Rhett is right, but facing that also means facing that I’ve spent the last several years of my life relentlessly chasing a dream that isn’t actually my own.

A breath whooshes out of me and I drop my chin to my chest, squeezing my eyes together tight, wanting to put that wall back up in my mind that Rhett just came crashing through.

This time, he kisses the back of my neck, lips moving against my wet skin as he whispers, “Let’s go to bed.”

He stands behind me, gathering our towels, while I sit in the draining tub, watching the water swirl in a cyclone. A perfect reflection of how I’m currently feeling inside.

Shaken up. Spinning. Thoroughly not myself and yet, more myself than I’ve ever felt.

“Summer?”

When I glance up at Rhett, in all his rugged glory, the tips of his long hair wet and dripping over his toned shoulders, a shiver runs down my spine. He’s holding a towel open for me, and all I want to do is go to him.

So, I do. I stand, feeling the water slip off me like a skin I’ve shed. Like Rhett somehow scrubbed loose memories and hang-ups with that washcloth. When I step out of the tub, I expect him to drop his gaze over my body, but he takes a deep dive into my eyes.

I don’t know why I didn’t expect him to do that. He’s been nothing short of respectful. Is it the reputation? His look? The toe-curling things he says?

It seems unfair of me to think he’d be anything short of a gentleman. Small-town cowboy, rough around the edges, with a womanizing reputation, and he treats me better than any man ever has. Than any person has.

I sigh sleepily when he wraps the towel around my shoulders. But he doesn’t leave it at that. He gently dries me. My hair, my neck, my back. He kneels beside me and dries my legs with so much care. I think he dries me better than I usually dry myself.

But he does place a gentle nip on the cheek of my ass before he stands back up, a boyish grin on his face and a devilish glint in his eye. “Go lie down.” He points at the bed, and where I’d usually give him lip, I just go.

Because I want to. Because I don’t have to fight him anymore. Because I don’t want to fight him anymore.

When I get to the bed, I flop face down, feeling like I could fall asleep in place, on top of the bed, wrapped in a towel. I let my eyes shut, but after a few beats, they flutter open.

The towel is pulled off me. I hear the squeeze of lotion and the rasp of Rhett’s palms rubbing together.

Those warm, calloused hands slide up over my bare back, and I moan because it feels good, but mostly because I can’t get enough of Rhett touching me the way he does.

“I feel like I should be the one massaging you.”

“I feel like you’re wrong,” he husks. And I melt into the bed, soaking up this side of him I didn’t even know existed. Sweet, and tender, and swoony.

Somehow, the fact he looks so rough and tumble makes the swoon more intense. He doesn’t look like a soft man, one to pull out pretty words or take you on lavish dates.

He is nothing like any man I’ve been with.

And that’s a blessing.

“I love your freckles,” he murmurs from behind me, the pad of his finger tracing lines across the expanse of my back. “They remind me of all the constellations. Like I could draw lines between them, and pictures would appear.”

It’s such an oddly worshipful thing to say. I wiggle my toes, hum softly, and tip my cheek against the bed to gaze back at him.

“Right here, there are two so close together they almost look like one.”

“Like binary stars,” I murmur.

“What are binary stars?” His finger tenderly swipes across the spot he’s talking about.

“It’s two stars that look like one to us when we see them in the sky. But really, they’re two. Stuck together by a gravitational pull, always orbiting one another.”

“Kind of like the two of us, stuck together,” he muses.

It’s that thought of us stuck together tumbling through my fading consciousness that leads into the sound of my phone buzzing on the bedside table.

Which leads to Rhett taking his hands off me.

Which leads to my stomach dropping, because what Rhett says next is, “It says Rob calling.”

I push up on my elbows and look over my shoulder at Rhett.

“Why is he calling you?”

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. However, if I had to guess, it would be something to do with Rhett winking at me before and after his ride tonight. Tonight’s event was broadcast, which means it’s feasible that someone would have seen that. That someone being Rob, who used to give me tummy flutters when he called. But right now, regarding the lit screen of my phone in Rhett’s hand, all I feel is dread.

“I don’t want to talk to him,” I say, flipping over and sitting up, pulling my towel back around myself. It opens up a jar of worms I’m not ready to show Rhett yet. I need to figure out where this is going before I go down that path and expose everything.

Rhett pushes the phone at me, his face hard and unreadable. “Answer it.”

I quirk a brow at him, wondering if he can truly handle this. Based on the way he flew off the handle over Emmett, my guess is no. But I’m not in the mood to argue, so I push myself up to the top of the bed to lean against the headboard and take the phone from Rhett’s hand. Without looking him in the eye, I swipe the screen to answer. “Hello?”

Rhett flops down on the bed beside me.

“Summer?” Rob asks, his voice polished and smooth. It doesn’t make my hair stand on end at all. It doesn’t sound rough and sexy, like tires crunching on gravel.

“Yeah.” Obviously. Who the hell else would it be? “What’s up? Is something wrong?”

“Why does something always have to be wrong for me to call you?”

My face pinches and my eyes roll. A year ago, that might have sounded sweet to me, now it just sounds stupid.

“You shouldn’t be calling me at all.”

Rhett’s head turns in my direction, and I feel his gaze on me like a touch.

“I know,” Rob says. Though I barely hear him over the rush of awareness Rhett’s spurring on in me.

“Okay, so—” I stifle a squeal as Rhett suddenly reaches over and lifts me on top of him. My towel falls away, and I’m straddling Rhett Eaton, buck naked, his hands gripping my hips while he looks over my body like it might be his next snack.

“Sorry,” I breathe, trying to not sound as shocked as I feel. “I, uh, dropped my phone.” Rhett quirks a brow and then holds one finger up over his lips in the universal sign for shh.

I’m momentarily confused.

And then his hands push up on my hips, right as he pushes himself down the bed, lining his face up with my . . .

“Oh, God,” I murmur, staring down into Rhett’s honeyed irises. All trouble and promise. I widen my eyes at him, as if to say, Are you fucking kidding me right now?

But Rhett’s mouth twists in a devilish smile.

“Everything okay?” Rob asks, which is right when Rhett’s hands take hold of my hips, as though they’re handles, and pulls my pussy down onto his stubbled face.

I suck in a breath and let my eyes go wide in their sockets as Rhett spears me with his tongue. I can’t look away. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry, just, uh, clumsy.”

I think Rob laughs, but I’m not really listening. I’m too busy watching the bad boy between my legs do something very, very bad.

“Where are you right now?”

My brain stutters as Rhett sucks at my core. “In my hotel room.” It’s not my room, it’s Rhett’s. But I feel like I belong here, and based on the look in Rhett’s eye, he likes the sound of it too.

“So, listen, I wanted to talk to you. Just check on you,” Rob prattles on awkwardly, and it should be awkward for him, even if he doesn’t know what’s going on right now.

“Hm,” I hum and let my eyes shutter when Rhett drags the pointed tip of his tongue over my clit.

“I saw you at the hospital the other day. With that bull rider.”

“Rhett,” I try to say his name, but it truly sounds like more of a moan. His strong hands grip my ass as he grinds me down onto his face.

“Yeah. Whatever.” Rob sounds vaguely annoyed by the mention of his name, which kind of pisses me off. So, I swivel my hips onto Rhett’s face, getting off on the way he groans happily when I do.

Fuck Rob for never doing this for me. He had no issue with me taking him in my mouth, and I’m not sure why I never saw the inequity in that. But I see it loud and fucking clear now.

“You need to be careful with men like that.”

My body coils, that line up my inner thigh pulling tight as Rhett’s hands trace my torso with so much desire. I could just melt onto him and stay here forever.

“Men like what, Rob?” I bite out, my voice thick. I raise off Rhett’s face, suddenly worried I might suffocate him, but when I stare down, all I see is victory in his eyes and my wetness shining on his beard as he licks at his lips.

It’s lewd.

And I love it. So, I sit back down, tangling a hand in Rhett’s hair and tugging at the roots.

“You know, Summer. Not like us.” Has he always been such a pretentious prick? “Uneducated. Unruly. Just a different breed.”

A protective streak lurches up in me. Rob thinks he can treat me the way he has and then insult Rhett? Continue to make it impossible for me to carry on with my life?

Fuck him.

“You know what he is, Rob?” I’m panting now, and I’m not entirely sure how he hasn’t figured out that I’m not just sitting politely in my hotel room alone.

Guess you can be a doctor and still be stupid.

Rhett’s tongue and lips work furiously between my legs, and he has me barreling toward release. And I’m not even resisting. I’m chasing it now.

“He’s the breed that’s man enough to eat pussy.”

“Excuse me?” Rob sputters on the other end of the line, but it’s Rhett’s wide eyes I’m looking down into as I ride his face. And when his teeth graze my clit, I explode.

“Ahh! Rhett!” I click the side of the phone to hang up as I toss it and collapse forward on to the bed, bowled over by what feels like a tidal wave of scalding hot water covering me. My body trembles and shakes. I fall apart and love every second of my undoing.

All I can hear is the two of us panting for a few beats until Rhett breaks the silence.

“Well shit, Princess.” He slaps my ass as I flop down beside him. “I hope that was as satisfying for you as it was for me.”

I giggle. I can’t help it. I think Rhett Eaton may have just melted a few of my brain cells. A few of my boundaries as well, because that was way, way, way out of left field for the polite, people-pleasing version of Summer.

“It really was.” I throw an arm over my face to hide the blush building because of what I just did. What I just said. “But also, so goddamn rude, Rhett Eaton.”

He completely ignores my scolding in favor of asking, “Do you think he heard you scream my name?” The glee in his voice isn’t remotely concealed.

I giggle again and my other arm joins the first, covering my face from what was both an invigorating and somewhat embarrassing experience. “God. I don’t know.”

Rhett chuckles, his hands propped across his bare chest now. He’s all smiles as he shakes his head and stares up at the ceiling. “I hope so. I think I get off on other people hearing you scream my name.”

I grin and flop over onto my stomach, burying my face in the pillows because I think I might get off on it too. I want to dig a hole and crawl in there to hide, but I also want to burst out laughing because Rhett pushes all the boundaries I thought I had.

He’s not ashamed, more like he’s proud of me and wants everyone to know I’m hooking up with him. Which is an altogether new experience.

I mull that over, feeling him get off the bed and hearing him shuffle around behind me. When he gets back on the bed beside me, he says, “I figured out what the freckles on your back spell.”

“Oh, yeah?” I squeak out.

“Yeah.”

I feel a fine point on my back. “Are you drawing on me?”

“No, I’m writing on you.”

“What are you writing?” I laugh because it’s ridiculous. I feel like I’m in junior high all over again.

His responding chuckle is low and deep. It makes my stomach flip and my core tingle. “You’ll have to go look.”

Rhett sounds so satisfied, so smug, and when I turn and glance back at him, his expression is a perfect match.

“Fine,” I say, clambering off the bed. I pad into the bathroom, the one that still smells like lavender Epsom salts, and turn my back to the mirror. I give him a curious look as he watches me from the edge of the bed, and then I turn back to see what he’s written.

He’s connected the freckles to say Mine.

And God, in this moment, I feel like that might be true.