Heather looked at Rhys as he filled a goblet with wine. Who truly was this man she wed? She thought she knew him, but did she? He handed her the goblet and she took it, eager to ask him questions, yet she remained silent. She drifted to one of the chairs near the hearth and sat.
Pitt entered, the door having been left open.
“Find out what happened to the guard at the door,” Rhys ordered, and Pitt closed the door behind him as he took his leave.
“Feeling better?” Rhys asked, standing near the hearth.
“Much, but then I should feel well-rested, having slept most of the night away.”
“Sunrise is less than an hour away.”
“It is no wonder I feel so refreshed, but what of you? Have you slept at all?” she asked, though looking at him he did not appear a man who lacked sleep. No heaviness marred his eyes nor did his body appear fatigued. He stood tall, his shoulders broad, his chest fit and his eyes as alert as ever. The one thing different about him was his dark hair. It was not drawn back. It fell to just above his shoulders, one side tucked behind his ear...the way Quinn had worn his. While it gave a familiar tug to her heart, she could not help but think of the changes in him.
“I slept well enough.”
“But not alongside me,” she said, recalling that she had not caught the scent of him on the bed linens when she woke.
“You needed rest.”
“I rest quite well with you beside me,” she assured him.
“I do not, for it is not rest I think of when lying beside you.”
“What do you think of?” Heather asked and found herself waiting for a reply while Rhys rested his hand to his chin and ran his thumb across his lips, paused in thought. Her eyes remained fixed on his lips and the way his thumb caressed them and she felt a small flutter in her stomach.
He stopped suddenly and with a brief step, hunched down in front of her. “I think of touching you in the most intimate of places.”
Heather gasped lightly when his hands slipped under her skirt to caress her legs. His touch was gentle, running from her ankles up along her legs slowly as if he did not want to miss touching any part of her. And as he did, the flutter in her stomach grew and took flight, settling between her legs and growing ever stronger as his hands slipped over her knees and down between her legs to stroke the inner flesh.
Rhys watched her eyes flutter and her mouth dropped open slightly as he gently spread her legs apart. He had grown hard with his first touch of her, soft yet firm, and the further he explored the harderhe grew. One yank forward and he could...he groaned with the thought of swiftly impaling her. Instead, he slipped his finger slowly inside her.
Heather gasped, her hands grabbing his shoulders and digging into his flesh as his thumb settled on the direct spot that throbbed unmercifully. She moaned, then sighed, then moaned again.
She grew so wet that Rhys could slip easily inside her without causing her much pain, but he would not take her here and now like a common wench. He would make love to her properly in their bed. For now, he would simply bring her pleasure, let her grow accustomed to his touch, and watch as she climaxed for the first time.
Heather inched forward in the chair, needing him to go deeper inside her and the slight plunge of his fingers drew a louder moan from her as she dropped her brow to rest on his.
“Kiss me.”
It was a demand, not a request, and Heather complied most willingly. His tongue penetrated her mouth the same time his fingers plunged deeper. This time her gasp was caught in his mouth as his kiss turned more powerful and pleasing than she ever thought possible.
She moaned in disappointment when he tore his lips away from hers to whisper in her ear, “Come for me, I want to feel you come.”
He teased her nub until she thought she would go mad, and she dropped her head back and moaned so loud she thought all in the keep wouldthink the Dragon tortured her, but then he did, though most pleasurably.
She cried out his name as she felt the overwhelming sensation continue to grow and as it did, she dug her fingers deeper into his shoulders. His name became a litany on her lips until finally...she felt an explosion of the most glorious sensation and let herself be swept away in it.
Rhys watched as the climax hit and took hold of her and seeing the pleasure she was getting from it almost had him coming himself. But the years of learning to stay in control took hold and besides, when he came it would be inside her.
As her climax subsided, she brought her head down to rest on her husband’s shoulder.
“That and more is what I think of doing to you,” he whispered in her ear.
If her breathing was not so labored, she would tell him that he could do that and more to her as often as he liked. Actually, she would not mind if they went to their bedchamber right now, for she had waited far too long to make love with the man she loved. For now, she just let herself enjoy all the little sensations that continued to linger in her body.
Rhys loved feeling the last of her climax ripple through her and that she rested her head on his shoulder without thought as if it was most natural. He wanted her at ease with him, wanted her to enjoy his touch, to look forward to it.
He closed his eyes against the thought that he refused to admit and that constantly haunted him. Hewanted her to love him. The problem was… could he give her the love she deserved?
