Heather turned quickly, hoping to catch the culprit off guard and raised her hand ready to strike.
Rhys grabbed her hand, twisting it, forcing her to drop whatever it was she held, then yanked her up against him. “You could be in a dire situation right now, if it was someone other than me.”
Heather gave her husband a hard shove, not that it did much good. He did not budge, so she took a few steps away from him. “How dare you frighten me like that?”
“How dare you disobey meagain,” Rhys snapped.
“I remained in the keep.”
“I ordered you to remain where you were.”
“That still does not give you cause to frighten me,” she said, shaking her finger at him.
“Do not point your finger at me, wife,” he ordered.
“Then do not give me cause to,” she said, continuing to shake her finger at him the whole time.
Rhys was on her in less than a blink of an eye, his hand grabbing and consuming the offending finger in his grasp. “I am warning you, wife, tread lightly or you will?—”
“Or what?” she shouted the anger that bubbled inside her now and then throughout the years suddenly erupting, spewing forth before she could contain it. “Punish me? Make me suffer? Do what you will, for I will not now or ever be an obedient wife.”
Rhys rested his face close to hers. “And so your descent into darkness begins with anger displacing your sweet kindness.”
Heather laughed softly. “The Dragon is blind, for where he sees anger, I see courage.”
His dark eyes heated. “Watch your tongue, wife.”
“Or what? Will you cut it out?”
“Never, for I want the pleasure of feeling your tongue lick my hard manhood until I spill my seed.” His hand grabbed roughly between her legs. “And my tongue will be sure to return the favor.”
Heather brought her lips close to his and whispered, “Promise?”
Her response shocked Rhys and he felt his loins turn hard. His hand shot up and grabbed the back of her neck and held her firm as his lips descended on hers.
There was no tenderness in his kiss and Heather did not care. She had hungered for it since he had made her come in the solar. And she wanted to come again, only this time she wanted him inside her. She wanted what she had waited so long for...to make love with Quinn.
Rhys felt his need for her grow out of control. He did not even want to wait and strip her bare. He wanted to hike her skirt up and bury himself deep inside her until they both were breathless and spent.
He hoisted her up and she wrapped her legs around him and grabbed hold of his shoulders as he walked over to a waist-high chest and sat her on itwhile continuing to kiss her. He ripped at her blouse, freeing her breasts and squeezing one plump breast then the other, before teasing the nipples hard for him to enjoy.
She let out a soulful moan when his mouth left hers, but it soon turned to a pleasurable one when his tongue settled over her nipple to suckle it. Her passion soared and so did her need to touch him. She reached over his shoulders and grabbed his shirt, yanking it up and he lifted his head so that she could pull it off him.
His tongue returned to her nipple and her hands roamed down his back, feeling his muscles grow taut at her touch, and she grew impatient. She wanted him inside her.
She grabbed the sides of her skirt and yanked them up, spreading her legs as she did. She leaned down, her lips near his ear. “Please, I need you inside me now.”
Rhys raised his head and took a step back, his fingers going to the ties at his waist to free himself when he suddenly realized what he was doing and stopped. This was not right, taking her for the first time here on top of a dusty chest. This was not what he wanted for her, not what he had planned, and not what he had waited for.
He stepped back, yanking her skirt down as he did.
Heather stared at him. What had happened? Had she done something wrong?
“This will wait until tonight,” he said, stepping away from her.
“Why?”
“Because I command it,” he snapped.
