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“It became ours when I found you in Old Ford.”
“His name is Samuel Reed,” she said. “I gave you the real name the first time.”
“I am happy you trusted me.” He kissed her lips just as the first droplet of rain touched his forehead. “We should return.” He pulled her up with him, and they began to run up the hill to the Castle.
* * *
Joy was all Elizabeth could feel as they ran and entered through a small door at the back. She had not been confident when she decided to talk to Rhys about Myers, nor had she expected him to understand, but he had surprised her. And her heart had expanded because of it.
He started to lead her up a narrow stairwell but stopped and pulled her against him, kissing her fiercely while his hands explored the contours of her body. She pushed his coat from his shoulders, and he helped her remove it, tossing it onto the floor. Her shawl followed a moment later.
Rhys slipped the buttons of her dress from their holes as his tongue swirled around the base of her throat. They heard footsteps as he pulled the dress down her body. Taking her hand, they ran up the stairs with her in her underthings, leaving their clothes on the steps. Elizabeth was both thrilled and unabashed.
They reached Rhys’ chambers on the third floor, and as soon as the door was closed behind him, he swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. However, he did not lay her atop it. He instead raised her leg and set her foot on the bed then took her hand and guided it under her petticoat to touch her eager center.
“Rhys,” she moaned when he made her stroke herself, and she leaned back against his firm body.
Rhys kissed her shoulder while he undid her stays, and once she was free of them, her petticoat and chemise followed. His hands came to circle her breasts, giving her nipples a tender touch before pinching them. The pleasure that was already mounting in her center began to peak, and one of her hands reached behind to hold onto him for support.
He chuckled devilishly before his lips brushed her neck, and the feel of his lips against her skin made her wanthim. She no longer wanted her own hands to please her but his, and she suspected that was his aim in making her touch herself. It took a great measure of effort, but Elizabeth stopped, lowered her leg to the floor, and began to turn around in his arms.
“No,” he said firmly, taking her hand and returning it to her sex. He slid one of her fingers into her and kissed her lips. “I want you to continue what we started,” he whispered. When she opened her mouth to protest, he took a step back. “Touch and feel, Liza.”
Arching her back, she continued to caress herself, and his eyes darkened. She could see him straining against his breeches, and her body welcomed the new heat that spread all over her skin. He unbuttoned his waistcoat as he watched her, but her eyes began to flutter shut when she felt her body clenching. She tossed her head back, her breathing quickening. Rhys’ hand circled her wrist and gently pulled her hand away.
“Damn it, Rhys!” she cried, her body trembling from the interruption. Her eyes opened, and she glared at him.
“Not yet, Darling.” He shook his head, grinning.
“You have the impudence to smile after what you just did?”
His grin widened, and he removed his shirt. Her breath hitched when her eyes moved down his sculpted chest to the waist of his breeches. Finding his weakness, she smiled and splayed her fingers on his chest. Then, very slowly, she slid her fingers down his abdomen, reveling in the way his muscles jumped beneath her fingers.
“What are you doing, Liza?” he asked, his breathing labored.
“Punishing you, Rhys,” she murmured, touching his manhood through his breeches.
“Liza,” he warned.
Elizabeth grinned and rose onto the tips of her toes to brush her lips against his. “I am learning to be wicked, too.” He caught her bottom lip between his teeth then sucked it. Without giving her any time to prepare, he scooped her up into his arms and moved to the bed. She squealed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
“I wanted us to play for much longer, but you are too damn stubborn to allow it,” he said when he laid her down.
“Rhys,” she breathed, “I wantyou. Not my hands butyours.” The heat from his body was robbing her of her senses, and she was hungrier than she had been moments ago. “Please,” she implored, writhing under him.
Groaning, he rose from the bed to quickly remove his breeches and small clothes before returning to her. He slid an arm under her waist as he brought his lips to hers, kissing her slowly and longingly. His fingers began to swirl lazy circles from her knee up to her thighs, causing tiny quakes to run through her body.
He touched her, not with his hands but with the tip of his member, and she arched up against him, closing her eyes and feeling what she had never felt before. She ran her hands through his long hair, twisting the strands around her fingers and tugging.
“God, Elizabeth!” he groaned, tightening his arm around her waist and pulling her to him. He slid into her, and she gasped, intoxicated by the feel of him inside her. That was what she had craved since their kiss in the library at the masquerade. He was her match in every way despite their differences, and her heart filled with something unexpected.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, her emotions rising in time with the pleasure that radiated from where they joined to the tips of her limbs. His slow strokes became fast and abbreviated, and Elizabeth clung to every part of him that she could find, his name on her lips and his being in her heart.
She loved him, she realized, and a shocked gasp swiftly left her parted lips. Rhys stopped moving and propped himself up on his elbows, concern clouding his gaze.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked.
She quickly shook her head and smiled. “No, you did not. I just—” She braced her hands on his shoulders and pushed him, so he lay on his back, regarding her with a puzzled frown that quickly turned into a grin when she climbed atop him.
