Chapter 12 #2
Rhys gritted his teeth. The briefs were the only thing between him and exploding prematurely like a malfunctioning artillery shell. “Not yet.”
Taylor pouted—the cutest thing he’d seen in a long, long time, and he couldn’t help his reaction to it.
Her brow furrowed. “You think I’m funny? I’ll show you how funny I can be.”
Before he knew it, her lips collided with his—fierce, challenging, demanding all his attention, so he couldn’t get in the way of her attempt to drag his briefs over his hips.
Oh no. He still had some control.
“I want to see all of you,” she declared when she surfaced for air. “Every inch.”
All desire to laugh had vanished. Rhys groaned. “You’re not playing fair.”
“All’s fair in love and war.”
He went still. “Tay…?”
“This sure ain’t war, Dalton.”
On that, they were agreed, although now was not the time to dive down that rabbit hole. Not when there were greater delights to explore. He intended to immerse himself fully in everything they had to offer.
“Another point of agreement, Ms. Markham.”
“Good.” She grinned and waggled her eyebrows. “Now move your ass and get naked.”
He blinked. “So, it’s like that, is it?”
“You bet it’s like that.”
A moment later, his briefs joined Taylor’s nightgown on the floor. When he turned back to face her, her gaze was locked, with laser-like accuracy, on a specific part of his anatomy.
“Disappointed?” he finally managed to mutter.
“Disappointed?” She lifted her gaze. “Are you crazy?”
The soft, slow question reached out and wrapped itself around him, in much the same way as she wrapped her hand around his cock. He took a moment to bolster his self-control before he could embarrass himself.
Now, what was it she’d asked?
Oh, yes.
“About you? Yes, I am,” he admitted. “Now, let me do my job.”
Her lips twitched. “I’m a job now, am I?” she teased.
He watched her form the words, leaned in closer, and pressed his mouth to hers. His tongue explored the seam of her lips, and when she allowed him in, her tongue clashed with his in a spirited dance of primal need.
When they finally broke apart, his gaze met hers. “You do know I take my work very… very… seriously?”
Her gasp, when he slipped a hand between her thighs and stroked her folds, was confirmation he’d gotten the message across. She was already soaking wet, and just a fingertip touch to her clit was enough to make her whole body shudder.
“Glad to know you don’t need directions,” Taylor observed with a breathless whisper.
“I’m very good at getting the lay of the land.” He placed a kiss under her jaw. “Familiarizing myself with the terrain.” His lips found her collarbone. “Charting a course to the target.” He drew her nipple into his mouth and sucked hard.
Her low, throaty groan scored a direct hit and made him harder than granite. She deserved his best, and he’d barely gotten started. “I’m also good at achieving my objectives.”
Her head flopped back against the pillow, while her hips lifted and pushed against his hand. “Do you always talk so much when you’re making love?”
He kissed her collarbone. “Think of it as a strategic break to allow you to get your breath back for the next phase of the operation.”
“Really? You think you’re that good?” she challenged.
His smile was slow and predatory. “No, not at all.” He closed his teeth on her nipple, sucked hard again, and released her pebble-hard flesh with a satisfying pop. “I don’t think I’m that good—I know I’m that good.”
Taylor gave a soft moan. “Such modesty.”
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.”
>>><<<
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.
After a flurry of light, teasing kisses, Taylor anchored her fingers in the silky, thickness of his hair, so she could guide his mouth to where she needed it to be.
Rhys had other ideas. One strong hand encircled her wrist and pinned it to the pillow, leaving her fully exposed.
With her other arm trapped between their bodies, she couldn’t have prevented the wild nips and kisses he scattered across her skin.
When his mouth latched onto her nipple once more, her back arched with an eruption of pure pleasure.
“If I let go of your wrist, will you keep your hand there for me?” he asked, his voice rough with his own need.
“Can’t promise,” she managed to get out. “I need to touch you, too.”
“Later.”
How could a single word hold so much promise? It ignited the kind of need she’d move heaven and earth to satisfy, to worship his body as he was worshiping hers, to map out the contours of his stunning physique with kisses both fierce and gentle.
Every part of her ached for him. His hand roamed from her hip to stroke the soft skin of her inner thigh, and made its way back to the apex. Two fingers inside her and his thumb on her clit were all it took for her to cling to his arm and grind her hips against his hand.
“Good girl,” he whispered against her hair. “Now, come for me.”
Eyes tight shut, forehead pressed against his shoulder, she thrust against his hand as if her life depended on it. A third finger slipped inside her and she rode harder, her hips bucking wildly until her orgasm hit like a freight train.
She’d barely left the peak when the man’s mouth was on her again as he wove spell after spell, like some powerful, sensual magician. She needed to touch him so very, very badly.
As soon as her palm made contact with his cheek, his hand covered hers, and he lifted it away so he could press his lips to her palm. She shivered at the intimacy of the contact. “Rhys, please.”
Her plea must have triggered something inside him. He gave her a hard, brief kiss, then with ruthless efficiency, lifted her thigh over his—and blew her mind.
He was hard and hot, steel robed in velvet, ready to slide inside her.
Taylor’s mind exploded like a barrage of fireworks at the feel of him pressed so intimately against her.
A tornado of insanity had her wishing they’d both been tested and she had birth control in place, so she could have him bare inside her.
“You okay?”
She nodded, her forehead against his chest. “Just wishing for what’s impossible right now.”
“Tell me what you want and I’ll make it possible.”