Chapter 2
Bedtime Stories for Little Girls
Two weeks later…
“Ithink it’s time we talk, hen,” Rhys says from the library doorway.
I’ve spent most of my recuperation time here.
The world thinks we’re hard at work doing royal family shit, the Golden Serpents think I’m dead and that Rhys and his team are trying to navigate how to explain that and regroup without looking like he killed me.
Really, I’m just trying to gain my strength and figure out how to keep myself alive while wrapping my brain around the fact that I’m married to the glorious man who stands across the room from me.
So I’ve been secreting myself away from prying eyes in this room.
Honestly, I could probably live here and never leave. It’s really ideal.
I bite my lip and nod hesitantly.
Rhys holds his hand out for me to take. It’s now or never. No more hiding, so I steel myself by pulling in a deep breath and rolling my shoulders back as I move across the floor to where he waits patiently for me. He is my husband after all…
His warm hand wraps protectively around mine as he pulls open the door and leads me down the hallway, back toward our bedroom.
After my almost-assassination, I was swept away to a smaller country estate that was bequeathed to Rhys when his grandmother died.
Because it’s not on the roster of properties owned by the Royal Trust, but instead privately owned, he and his advisors hoped no one would look for me here.
Rhys is rumored to be at my bedside while I’m on life support but also sleeping with women on our honeymoon in the French Riviera. Where people get these things, I have no idea. Until the truth comes out, I’m living my best Beauty and the Beast dreams—growly beast included.
The sound of the heavy antique door closing races down my spine as Rhys slowly steps toward me, stalking me like a lion.
And I guess that’s true because he is the king of this jungle.
With each step he takes, I retreat two more until the back of my legs hit the bed and my eyes go wide as he reaches for the hem of my sweater, drawing it up and over my head.
“I thought you said we were going to talk?” I ask.
He tosses the garment aside and slides his fingers under the band of my bralette and off that goes too, leaving me topless, the cool country air grazing my skin as it warms under his gaze.
“We are,” Rhys answers. He reaches between his shoulders and grabs the neck of his henley, pulling it up and over, mesmerizing me with an unencumbered view of his hard chest and abs.
I’m so distracted that I miss him dropping to his knees in front of me and only shake off my stupor when he gently lifts my foot to slide off my Ugg loafer before placing it back to the floor and repeating the move with my other leg.
When he’s done, he grabs the waist of my leggings and slowly draws them down.
I feel moisture pool between my legs at the hungry way he’s watching me.
“Then what are you doing, husband?” I ask as he stands to tower over me.
He unbuckles his belt before undoing the button on his jeans. Apparently, my husband is very casual in the country and I kind of like it.
“Why I’m just making sure we’re comfortable for our talk, wife,” he replies as he pushes his jeans to the floor and steps out of them.
“Hmm.”
He reaches around me to grab the covers and flip them back before saying, “Now get in bed, hen.”
I scramble back onto my hands and my backside, and Rhys follows me down, flipping us as he moves. He drags me up the bed and over his body, until we’re positioned so that his back is against the headboard and I’m secure in his arms, our legs tangled together.
“There now,” he says when I exhale the last of my reserves and relax into his arms. “That’s more comfortable.”
“Hmm,” is my only reply because he’s not wrong and I’m not in a mood to argue with the man I’ve been married to for half of a month. “You had something to tell me…”
“I do.”
“And it’s important.”
“Aye.”
“And we had to be naked for you to impart this wisdom on me?” I ask.
“No,” he chuckles softly. “It just makes it more fun for me.”
“What about me?”
“Your fun will come after, when my attention isn’t divided,” he replies with a tone to his voice that has me scraping my legs together like a cricket.
“So, this important information…” I hedge, steering the subject back to whatever this was supposed to be and not what Rhys is trying to distract himself or both of us with.
With a sigh, he begins…
“You have to suspend your disbelief for a moment, my hen,” he says. “I know this will seem wilder than anything our imaginations could dream up, but I promise you it’s not a tale; it’s the truth.”
“Then I guess you better just start at the beginning and we’ll go from there.”
“A long, long time ago—” he starts and before I can help myself, I interrupt him.
“In a galaxy far, far away?”
“Hen,” he reprimands me.
“Sorry. Carry on.”
He lets out a frustrated breath and I school my facial features before he starts again.
“Long before either of us were born, long before our fathers or our grandfathers were born, there was a queen who had a lot of power and had amassed a considerable amount of wealth as well. None of which was the norm at the time… but she wanted more.”
“This sounds familiar already,” I mutter.
“While her power was great, her reach was small. She wanted to know that she controlled all of the power players in the world, so she arranged powerful marriages for all of her children. She sent them out into the world, and they had children who went on to make powerful alliances and so on and so on and now those descendants are in powerful government positions, royal families, and influential billionaires all over the world.”
“Jeez. How many kids did she have?” I ask.
“Eighteen.”
“I’m not having that many kids,” I say without thinking.
Rhys places a kiss on my temple and replies, “Of course not. I would never risk your safety like that. Also, we’re not blood thirsty dictators hell bent on global power and control.”
“There is that…” I mumble to myself making him chuckle. I frown at the warm feeling making him laugh bursts through my chest.
“Now where was I?” he thinks to himself. “Oh yes, the old cow and her eighteen insane children…”
“They were insane?”
“Aye, and so are most of their offspring,” he says with a sigh. “The queen sent off her ridiculous number of psychotic children in the name of making powerful connections around the world and they did. They united their powers in an attempt to overthrow governments and political strongholds.”
“Did it work?” I ask.
“In some cases, yes, but in most no,” he says. “That didn’t stop them. They appeal to those who want the power.”
“Like the earl?”
“Aye,” he answers. “Like the earl and his daughter, Saoirse. She wasn’t lying when she said that she’s my age.
We would have been the more appropriate match back then, but the earl wanted the power and connections being the father of the Queen would garner him while he was young enough to enjoy it.
So he ordered my mother’s murder and then blackmailed my father into taking his daughter as his new bride. ”
“No,” I gasp.
“Aye. When my father was no longer of use to them, they started poisoning him,” he says. “He knew he was dying when he told me to choose a bride.”
“Hmm.” I feel myself bristle at the mention that I was essentially chosen from a catalog of suitable wives and not the love match I had thought we were.
“Do no’ pull away from me now, hen,” he warns as his grip on my ass tightens.
“I’ve told you I was told to choose a wife and quickly, I also told you that I would never lie to you again, and I have no’.
So, I was no’ lying when I said with one look at your picture, I knew that I had to meet you.
And once you literally fell into my arms, I knew that you were mine. ”
“Rhys—” I start but he keeps going.
“I took you and made you mine in ways that couldn’t be undone and took the choice away from you because I knew you would chicken out and run if given the opportunity.
And I’m no’ sorry that I did either because at the end of the day, you belong with me.
You’re here, naked and in my arms, in my bed and mine in all the ways that matter, so quit your arguing because they’re all the ways that matter to you too. ”
“Well. I don’t know what to say to that.”
“I do. Just tell me you love me and all will be well,” he says, placing another kiss on my temple.
“I do love you,” I reply gently.
“Aye,” he says, his voice rumbling as he rolls into me and turns us over, deftly sliding between my thighs, which naturally fall open for him as he covers my body with his. “You do.”
“Wh-what are you doing?” I gasp at his bold move even though he is my husband.
“Now’s the fun part,” he says with a grin and a flash of his neat, white teeth.
“I thought we were having a history lesson?” I ask, rushing the words out as I feel his hard length pressed against my thigh.
“That’s enough history for now,” he replies as he presses his hand between us and cups me before slipping two fingers inside me and curling them to hit just right. He leans down, pressing his lips to my breast, kissing and nipping as he goes.
“Rhys.” I gasp at the intrusion that turns into an immediate rush of lust, teetering on pleasure. I arch my back and clutch the forearm attached to the hand at one of my most vulnerable places.
“That’s it, hen. I want to watch you come on my hand and then my cock,” he says before pressing his thumb to my clit.
The added pressure along with his fingers stroking inside me, have me hurtling toward an unexpected climax.
He pulls my nipple deep into his mouth and the stinging bite of his ministrations only adds to the pleasure he’s stoking with his hands.
“Please,” I pant as I rock my hips up to meet his touch, but it’s no use, he has me pinned in a way that I can only accept his brutal pleasure. “Rhys, please. Fuck,” I cry out as I press my thighs to his side, holding on any way I can as my orgasm rocks through me.
“With pleasure,” he replies as he withdraws his fingers and replaces them with his hard length, sliding deep inside me before my climax has even finished.
This isn’t a frantic coupling between two people who can’t get enough of each other, this is so much more. And there’s no denying it when he presses his mouth to mine and drinks in my whimpers as he rocks our bodies together, holding me in his strong arms.
Tears trickle from my eyes as my emotions besiege me.
I’m undeniably in love with this man who has become my husband against all my best efforts and those of the people who would rather see us dead.
We’ve overcome so much in such a small amount of time and when Rhys makes love to me like this, I can’t help but believe that maybe, just maybe, he might feel the same way.
I gasp and move with him as the tide of my climax rises again. Rhys kisses me all over my face and neck, wiping away my tears, and I feel everything.
“Rhys,” I cry out, feeling overwhelmed by everything.
Okay, not everything, but all of Rhys. Everything about him and all the ways he makes me feel, the way that he plays my body so beautifully, it’s too much in the way that it will never be enough.
And when I no longer have it, I’ll long for only this, only him.
There will only be Rhys for me, from now to forever.
“Aye, that’s it,” he growls as he thrusts deep inside me. “Give me everything. I want it all and nothing less.”
I feel my body begin to pulse around him. My heart races as he pumps into me faster and faster, driving my climax and I dig my nails into his shoulders, squeezing my thighs around him as I come again.
Rhys presses his fingertips into my thigh as he holds me open to him, driving himself deep inside me one last time. A groan rumbles through his chest and against mine as he comes, and then he drops his heavy weight on top of me. I secretly love the way it feels to have all of him like this.
After he catches his breath, he slides off of me. “Stay there,” he says before he rolls right out of bed, switching the bathroom light on and casting the room in a soft glow.
When he comes back with a wet washcloth in his hand, he pushes my legs open as he sits on the side of the bed adjacent to me.
“Rhys.” I try to protest, but he just clucks his tongue at me and continues to hold me open for his view and care.
When he’s done, he flicks the blankets over me before taking the washcloth back to the bathroom. After dimming the lights, he comes back into the room and climbs into bed on his side. While we usually sleep with him curled possessively around my back, tonight he turns me in his arms to face him.
“I promise it’ll be all right, hen,” he says softly, his mouth just inches from mine. “I’ll protect you with my life.”
“That’s what worries me,” I whisper into the night.
“I mean it,” he replies. “I love you.”
And in a weird way, I do think he means it. After all we’ve been through, I believe that he does love me. So the last secret I utter into the dark before I give in to sleep is my truth.
“I love you too.”