I don’t think I can look at anyone right now.
“No, I’m all right, really.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I think that’s about all I can handle for now,” I say as quickly as I can while I run from the room and back down the hallway to my suite. My hands shake so badly, I can barely get the giant key into the door. And when I do, I rush through and slam it shut, locking it behind me.
It’s then that I realize I left my heels on the floor of my husband’s office. But who cares? In the grand scheme of things, I definitely don’t right now.
I strip off my clothes and step into the shower. It’s frigid when it first comes on because this castle is old as hell and freezing all the time, not to mention I didn’t wait to let it heat up. I scrub every inch of myself as the water heats up. By the time I get out of the shower my skin is bright pink, and I wrap myself in a huge fluffy towel and race into the closet, reaching for the thickest sweats I can find and slip them on over the most boring pair of white panties.
I head into the bedroom and scoop up my cat, pulling him into my arms, and climb into the big bed to cry. I want to sleep the rest of the day away. I’m definitely not up for tea with Dahlia. She would take one lookat my face and know that something was wrong. But would she know what it is exactly? Is she in on the history and horrors of her homeland? Because if not, she should be. This is nuts.
Before I can fall asleep, I hear the outer door open followed by footsteps and the rustling of clothes before Rhys pulls back the covers and climbs in.
“Let go of the cat, hen,” he orders quietly.
“No.”
“It wasn’t a suggestion,” he replies.
“Well, here’s a suggestion,” I snap. “How about you leave me alone?”
“I canno’ do that.”
“Why not? I’m not leaving, I’m not running, I promise,” I plead. “I’ll do it. I just need a second to process it.”
“I know you need to process it, but I need to do it with you,” he says as he turns me to face him and makes me let go of Leo who takes off at a run. I guess I was holding onto him a bit tight.
“But why?” I cry.
“Because I love you and because you’re mine,” he says, placing a gentle kiss on each of my cheeks, tasting my tears. “Don’t cry, hen. Please. It’ll be okay.”
“I know,” I reply with a hiccup. “This is just so… so… so fucked up!”
“Aye,” he says. “I hate it too.”
“You didn’t seem like you hated it all that much to me,” I reply with a quirked eyebrow.
He smirks the look of a man who was well fucked by his wife and I simultaneously want to slap it off his face and preen like a peacock.
“Oh, aye,” he laughs. “I could fuck you every day until I die, my wee wife, and I’d die a happy man. But sharing you, how you look, how you sound when you’re absolutely mine is not something I find I like very much.”
“Me neither,” I sigh.
“Then let’s make a better memory for now,” he suggests.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
He peels the clothes from my body as if he’s stripping the last of my protections from me. Then he rolls me to my back, his body covering mine, and I feel his hard length pressed between us again.
“You’re a fast learner,” he says as he rocks against me and I moan as his cock strikes my clit. “I think you’ll catch on quick.”
Then he pulls his hips back so that the very tip of him is at my entrance and with his eyes locked on my face, his look of warmth and love and lust, he slowly slides deep inside me.
Wrapped up in each other’s arms, we hold tight as he presses kisses all over my face, my cheeks, my eyes, my lips, rocking our bodies together. Breathing in each other’s sighs and moans, we don’t last long, but then we don’t need to, we have forever.
I arch against him and he presses his lips to mine asI cry out when my climax gently washes over me. He follows me over the edge, this time whispering a quiet “I love you” instead of the war cry from earlier.