Whisper (The Voice trilogy Book 1) by Noelle Bodhaine Read Free Book Online Page A

kiss is painfully chaste, prompting an empty ache deep in my core. Leaving me wanting. I want him to kiss me like he means it, like he can’t think of anything else. Instead, he is kissing me like a silly school girl. My heart is sinking, my head flooding with self-doubt and loathing. The gentle contact is torturous. His hands are firmly at his sides, our bodies separated now by the deepest chasm, inches become miles. The silence is unbearable, like an empty cave, my misguided words echoing off the walls in my head. I want to run and hide, but my legs are anchored to the spot, afraid that if I take a step I may sink to the ground from embarrassment and rejection.
    “Rhys! There you are.” Matthew comes around the corner, followed by four other slightly wavering forms, the rest of the bachelor party. I am instantly relieved to be interrupted, just waiting for the men to get closer and engage Rhys so I can run. The moment feels like an eternity as I watch them approach. Rhys’ eyes never leave my face, I can feel him burning me up, but I refuse to meet his gaze. I cannot bear the thought of looking him in the face, the man who apparently makes it his business to bang most women that he comes into contact has denied me. Humiliation has replaced any warmth that he provoked, the blood rushing from my head into my toes, leaving me flushed and dizzy. Rhys releases me from his sights to nod at Matthew and I seize the moment. I turn away from him and making a break for the side entrance. Turning on my bare heel I go for the door when Rhys’ strong grasp pulls me around, his hand covering my upper arm with more force than necessary. I look down at his hand, then to his waiting face.              
    “Sophie,” he whispers, his heavy brows creased, a slight twitch raising the corner of his tight mouth. 
    “No,” is all I can manage as I pull my arm from his grasp and retreat from this battle he has waged on my body and mind. Hearing the door click behind me, I release a deep breath, dropping my shoulders from their defensive position. I want to get to my room as quickly as possible and move towards the bank of elevators. I try not to look behind me as I wait, wanting Rhys to leave me alone, but also wishing he would come after me. When I get to my room it is stuffy and dark. All of the windows have been closed up all day and the air is heavy and stagnant. I open the gauzy curtains and pull open every window along the back wall welcoming the cool sea breeze. I change into my coolest night dress and lie down on the bed, watching the curtains dance in the breeze, the lights from outside painting moving shadows on the walls.  
    I can’t keep my mind off Rhys, his crooked smile dancing in my head, mocking me. Rejecting me. He has infiltrated every recess of my body and mind, creating a raging war of overstimulation and delicious confusion, tying me up in a sensual knot. Every fiber of my being twisted and wanting, a touch or a breath could push me over. I am teetering on the brink of insanity, his presence the cause and the only cure. No man has ever taunted me so thoroughly, creating such an intense awareness of the emptiness in my loins, illuminating a chasm that aches. Aches to be filled, over and over, filled to the bone. I am drawn to him without explanation. If you don’t take into consideration his imposing form, stunning face and the intense ‘fuck me’ glare he throws around. He embodies all the things I hate about cocky men, and have avoided my entire sexual life. Guys like that just take what they want, believe they deserve the world, and discard you when they get bored. They are superficial and arrogant and only see women who are impossibly perfect. I imagine that I am the antithesis of all he looks for. Undereducated, under traveled, underfunded and over fed. The thought repeats in my mind, like a taunting echo. I close my eyes and take in a deep cleansing breath of the fresh air that slides over my