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

the soft pink center, his eyes never leaving mine, he pops it into his mouth with a low groan and a wicked smile.               “Like debutantes and socialites?”
    “You twist my words. And you shouldn’t place any value on idle chatter, Sophie, women are wicked and ruthless,” he says flatly.
    “I am a woman.”
    “I suppose there are exceptions to every rule,” he offers warmly, the cynicism quickly melting from his face. “The women in these circles have too much time on their hands and too many fetishes and secrets to count.” His elusive language tickles my ears, commanding my full attention. 
    “Fetishes and secrets, huh? That sounds eerily like the conversations that were floating around about you this afternoon.” The words just sit there, I don’t know what to expect.
    “Fetishes? No, I am devoid of any kink you may assume, Sophie. I'm as vanilla as the next guy.” I raise an eyebrow in total disbelief. “Perhaps French vanilla would be a better descriptor.” He winks and sends a pulse through my belly. “But nonetheless, don't let them fool you. I possess certain talents, talents that make me a popular topic of conversation apparently. But I acquired those talents by paying attention, by listening and adapting.” Humor flashes in his eyes while he watches me squirm. My mind is swimming in a cocktail of confusion, thoughts of heart pounding, sheet ripping, sweat drenched sex swirling in my empty head. I am suddenly gripped by frustration and anger at being played with.
    “What is this?” My tongue is slightly sharper than I had intended, a scowl painted on my face. His eyes betray no emotion as he reads my face and then returns his attention to the platter of fruit.
    “Well, these are figs and those are grapes…”
    “Rhys, what is this? Is this how you make friends?” I wave my hand between us, waiting for an answer but all he offers is that crooked half smile. “What are you doing here? Why are you taunting me? It seems beneath you.”  I can see the mirth in his eyes, turning up the wattage on his grin to full panty busting power. My god he really is sexy. That grin has a direct connection to my center, burning me up from the inside.
    “Sophie.” His lips curl around my name, a whisper of promise. The lines of his face change, harden, all joking gone. He sits up carefully and turns to face me, our knees touching through the comforter. He squares his shoulders with mine and traps me with his clear green eyes like a doe in headlights. “Sophie, you are Olivia’s best and oldest friend. That makes you my friend, besides, she talks about you constantly. I feel like I do know you and can I just say that she did not do you justice.” His face is soft now, expectant, waiting. “I just…like you.” I release the breath I have been holding in frustration and my shoulders drop from relief. Sitting face to face with Rhys, the air is electric, his scent hanging like a spell, intoxicating and unmistakably male. His eyes are disarming and genuine with anticipation, but my tongue is twisted. His eyes are so deeply green, it is like being lost in a deep forest, he has wiped my mind clean.
    “I am sorry that I cannot say the same about you. Olivia has never mentioned you.” His face falls momentarily, realizing that I truly know nothing about him.
    “Never?” He mulls the reality momentarily. “Perhaps that was for the best, I wouldn’t want you to have the wrong impression.”
    “And what impression would that be?” My curiosity peaked. I know the impression I have gotten from others and it is one that I cannot soon forget.
    “I think you had a taste today. Did you not say that I was a popular topic of conversation?” The arch of his eyebrow is sharp and knowing. “Never mind that.  I rarely have the opportunity to make my own first impression. What a concept,” he quips to himself, lost in the impossible idea of his anonymity. The carousel that is his revolving mood