Page 40 of Taylor’s Warrior

He raised an eyebrow. “Why be modest about one of my finest achievements?”

“One of your finest achievements? What are the others? And others? Plural?”

Rhys shook his head. “Such skepticism. One day, I’ll sing Sosban Fach for you, but now is not the time, fy nghariad.”

She slanted him a narrow-eyed look. “You’ll sing who now, what now? Wait a minute. Never mind that—you’re telling me you can actually sing?”

His father had been in the church choir for years. Most of the men in his extended family had been members of male voice choirs for at least three generations. Singing was woven into their DNA. Even so, he hedged. “Don’t we all think we can sing?”

“Not all of us. So, it’s a case of priorities?”

“Uh-huh. You could say that.” Rhys shifted his position, glancing at the apex of her thighs to ensure his palm was over her mound. He slipped his finger between her folds again to remind her what his immediate priority was. “Now, are you going to let me get on with my work?”

“Oh, I’m work now, am I?”

She walked right into it. Rhys resisted the temptation to tease her too much. “You know what they say—love what you do, and you’ll never work another day in your life.”

“Uh-huh. Love what you do?” She nodded slowly. “Does that include me? You are, after all, about to do me, right?”

A loaded question if ever there was one. He was in the crosshairs, and strangely, he didn’t mind. At all. “Oh, I’m going to do you. Every which way I can, and then some. Now, lie back and let me get to work.”

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Taylor couldn’t escape.

Not that she wanted to. Rhys’ hands were flat on her belly, arms angled perfectly to maintain a relentless, inescapable pressure on her thighs, and keep her fully exposed to the irresistible magic of his mouth and tongue. Each long, lazy lap of her folds made her shudder with deep pleasure. Not only was the man loaded for sin, he was an accomplished lover capable of driving her closer and closer to climax, yet somehow judging perfectly when to draw back, leaving her frustrated and craving more.

He’d been so wrong about shaving, though. The rasp of his beard made her feel even more wild, wicked and wanton.

As her hands once more tightened their hold on the sheet beneath her, another soft, ecstasy-filled whimper slipped between her lips. The man was deliberately tormenting her to the edge of insanity.

The monster knew exactly what he was doing, and he clearly relished every damn minute of it. Tell me again why I’ve fallen in love with him.

The thought wasn’t the shock it perhaps should have been. She’d been in denial a long time, but denial couldn’t last forever. Her feelings for him were too strong and too fierce.

“Rhys, please!” she pleaded. “You’re driving me crazy.”

He lifted his head and grinned. “That’s what I wanted to hear. Now I know I’m doing it right.”

He lowered his head and resumed licking her.

Taylor moaned.

Despite her halfhearted pleas—only a madwoman would truly want him to stop—Rhys continued to navigate his way around her body with the incontestable confidence of a man who knew exactly what he was doing. A final swipe of his tongue over her clit was her undoing. Release came, and she screamed his name.

Although she was floating down from the peak of her pleasure, only one thing would cure the unique sense of emptiness inside her.

“Please,” she whispered. “I need to come with you inside me.”

Rhys swore. She might not have recognized the words he used, but the tone was unmistakable.

“Say that again,” he growled, “and I won’t be responsible for the consequences.”

Her whole body shivered at the last word. Consequences weren’t the threat he seemed to think they were—for Taylor, they were the reward. “I want you inside me.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Rhys crawled back up the bed to lie on his side beside her again. One hand rested possessively on her hip. He leaned over, and she tasted herself on his lips.