At a loss for words, I followed him through the doors and into the dark recesses of his bedroom. His essence of cinnamon and smoke was doubly strong. Iinhaled deeply, needingto make it a part of me.
With a wave of his long, tapered fingers, Rhys lit the small fire in the hearth with no match or kindling. My eyes met his in surprise. “I must admit you’re nothing like I expected.”
He toed off his boot and strolled back to my place beside his bed. “And what were you expecting?”
“I’m not sure.”
He looked down and took my hands in his, my own milky skin against his caramel brown. “There’s not much to know.” He pressed a kiss to my palm that I felt in other, more sensitive areas.
Thinking of the rumors, I said, somewhat breathily, “Somehow I don’t believe that.”
With a sigh, he said, “What would you like to know, pet?”
Put on the spot, I struggled to think of a pertinent question. Truth be told, I was stalling a little. What little intimacies I’d had in my life had not prepared me for what was to come.
Noticing my discomfort, he said, “Perhaps we should stick to not talking. We seem to get along well in that respect.”
Rhys got to his bare feet to corral me toward the bed. He urged me toward the bed and I refused to take to it like the weak virgin I was. Instead, I turned to offer him my back. “The laces. Would you mind? I can’t reach them.”
He murmured his approval. “I enjoy this color on you.” His fingers slid up the exposed skin of my back, so slowly that I felt each finger as it passed over every ridge of my spine.
“It is the color of your house, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” He reached for the ties and pulled. The material at the front of my dress loosened and caught on my breasts. My fingers quaked, but I let the dress fall, pooling at my hips.
I turned to face him, but he stopped me with an arm around my belly, pulling my back flush against his bare chest. I shivered against his heat.
“Lord Blaque?” I asked. I’d worked up the courage for this moment throughout my preparations for the binding ceremony. If I put it off, I may very well lose my nerve. Which was the one thing I couldn’t allow in his presence.
“There’s no rush. I mean to bed you as many times as it takes.”
If I were being honest, I wasn’t altogether put off by the prospect. If the vision his dragon had shared with me was any sign, I wouldn’t lack for pleasure from the experience.
I stilled under his roaming hands, allowing them to map the expanse of my back with the soft, heated touch of his fingertips. He gathered the length of my hair and arranged it over one shoulder so he could kiss the curve of my neck. I arched to the side, allowing him access, and one of his hands stole in front of me to cup the tender weight of one breast in his big palm.
He licked a path up my neck and heat washed over me that had nothing to do with the crackling fire in the hearth. Going to bed with him would have been so much easier if I didn’t enjoy his touch so much.
“Give in to me. Let me take care of you,” he whispered in my ear.
The want for him suffused my being, and I let it take over all rational thought like I had in the illusion he wove. Focusing on the rough touch of his work-hewn palms over the silk of my skin, or the wet bite of his kiss, was easier than worrying what might come of my submission when the sun rose. It was better than worrying about what parts of me he might unearth and plunder to make his own.
I turned to face him, my lips rising in askance, and the warm thrust of his tongue gave me all the answers I needed to know. He nipped at my lip, took it between his teeth, and then soothed away the sting. The tips of my breasts pressed against the warm skin of his chest and my toes curled in the elaborate sandals I’d worn for the binding ceremony.
My fingers fluttered over his chest in an immature show of nerves. Many monarchs before me were bound to those they did not choose. Allegiances were formed. Whole populations were saved. It was my duty as a royal to ally myself with a mate who could be of the most use. I was grateful we didn’t stick to the traditions of old where the consummation had to be witnessed by other royals.
Inever thought I’d want him as much as I did.
I never thought he would make my blood burn or my heart race.
He swiped a hand behind my knees and I threw my arms around his neck for stability. He lifted me as though I weighed no more than a feather and carried me to his unkempt bed. As he laid me down on its softness, I changed my mind. I was glad the servants hadn’t switched out his bedclothes because his scent surrounded me in every direction. It emanated from the sheets at my back and his hard body to my front until I was dizzy with it, consumed by it.
Rhys followed me down, covering my small body with his own. My legs tangled in the remaining material of my dress and he removed it with aching slowness, his eyes on mine as his fingers trailed down my stomach and over my hip, then down the length of my legs, leaving me completely bare to his gaze. I allowed him to look his fill, and my body did not tremble. He fit himself between my legs, the movement both aggressive and exhilarating.
He propped himself on his arms above me. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”
I squared my shoulders as much as I could and met his stare. “I am not afraid.”
“Such a spirited little princess you are.” He surprised me with a slow, languid kiss. “I didn’t think I’d like it.”
