“Answer me, wife,” he demanded.
She spoke from her heart. “I did not know how wonderful making love could feel.”
A smile crept across his face, though his wife could not see it and he scooped her up in his arms. “I am not finished with you yet.”
A grin quickly surfaced on her face as her arms went around his neck. “You just answered my prayer.”
He held her tight against him as he walked down the stairs to their bedchamber. “You will tell me if you grow sore.”
“And you will tell me if you grow tired.” Heather was shocked to hear him burst out laughing at her remark and her smile grew. He was not pulling her down into the darkness; she was pulling him out of it.
CHAPTER 20
Heather winced as her husband pulled out of her.
“Damn it, Heather, I told you to tell me if you were sore,” Rhys said, rolling off her to sit up beside her in bed. “How sore are you?” he asked, his hands reaching to spread her legs further apart.
Heather quickly closed them tight.
Rhys looked down at her. “Do not tell me you are embarrassed for me to take a look when there is not a spot on you I have not seen, touched, or kissed.”
“That was in the throes of lovemaking.”
“You will obey me. Now spread your legs.”
She shook her head.
“Am I to understand that you will only obey me when we make love?”
She smiled. “You are beginning to understand me.”
“A pity that you have yet to understand me,” he said and moved so fast that Heather let out a sharp cry when he spread her legs wide.
Rhys cringed when he took a look. “Damn it, Heather, you should have told me you were too sore to take me this morning.”
“My desire for you outweighed my soreness,” she said, her cheeks blushing red.
“What can I do to ease your pain?”
“Stop looking between my legs.”
He closed her legs gently. “Now tell me how I can tend you.”
“I will see to it myself.”
“I caused this, and I will make it right,” he insisted.
She laughed softly. “I did not force you to lay with me.”
He laughed as well. “I could argue that, since you can be quite demanding in bed...or out of it.”
Heather blushed again, recalling the places they had made love in the room. She had straddled him while he sat upon a chair, and the door shook when he took her against it. Her blush deepened when she just now realized the guard could have heard them. And what of her screams? She had been wickedly loud when he had bent her over the table and the bed. Her hand went to cover her mouth.
Rhys grabbed her hand. “Your deepening blush tells me your thoughts. I love the way you scream when I plunge deep inside you and I would order you never to stop,” —he grinned— “but it is not necessary, for you will never be able to stop yourself from screaming out your pleasure.”
“It is your fault,” she argued.
“Aye, it is,” he admitted, “as is this.” He laid his hand gently at the apex of her legs. “Now let me tend you.”
