Page 50 of King of Lies
When we’re safely back in my rooms and the door is shut behind us, I ask, “Did that just happen?”
“Aye,” he answers before picking up the phone and calling someone. Ten minutes late, a dining cart like room service in a fancy hotel is brought up to my rooms and Rhys and I dine on the meal we should have had downstairs. This time with champagne to celebrate.
An hour later, I’m draped across Rhys’s big body in my fantastic soaking tub as we test the structural integrity and splash water all over the floor.
An hour after that, I’ve washed all the makeup from my face and am braiding my hair after pulling on a comfortable pair of pajamas. Rhys pulls me into his arms and into the big bed.
“It’s a waste to put them on, Hen,” he says. “I’ll only take them off again.”
“But we just—”
“Aye. That doesn’t mean that I don’t want you, nor that I want to have to work for access to you and your beautiful body when I turn to you in the middle of the night.”
“Okay,” I whisper, and Rhys pulls the pajamas from my body and tucks us both into bed.
And later, sometime in the middle of the night, he proves what he said was true when he turns to me, waking me up with his hands and mouth. After, we fall back asleep in each other’s arms and still very nude much to the surprise of the maid who brings breakfast first thing in the morning.
Chapter 20
The village
Somewhere in my dreams, someone is knocking …
I snuggle deeper into the warm blankets. Mornings here on the Isle of Saints are cold, probably more so in this old castle. But the bedding in this bed is lush. It’s soft and warm and I love sleeping in the middle of the huge pile of velvets and brocades mixed with soft fleece and luxurious silks. Not to mention that the mattress is like sleeping on a fluffy cloud spun by baby angels. It’s heaven. And it makes my old double bed in my one-bedroom apartment seem like a camping cot.
It’ll be hard to go back to it for sure. If I ever go back. The way Rhys has been lately, has me thinking that maybe he really does want me to stay. To marry him. I don’t know. I know that I love him, but I’m also not sure that I could ever get used to this life.
Something solid tightens around my waist. A heavy palm covers my breast. Mm … What a nice dream.
“Miss Stella, I have your breakfast … oh, Your Highness, I am sorry for the intrusion,” my maid, Niamh, says and my eyes pop open just in time to watch her cover her eyes while bobbing a curtsy. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”
“It’s all right, Niamh,” he says. “I’m sorry to have startled you. Let’s just assume that if I’m in residence, I’ll be with Stella.”
“Aye, Your Highness,” she says as she backs out of the bedroom. “I left your breakfast tray on the table in the sitting room, Miss Stella.”
“Thank you, Niamh.”
“Is there enough to share?” Rhys asks.
“Aye, Your Highness.”
“Brilliant,” he says. “That’ll be all, Niamh.”
“Thank you, sir,” she mumbles before she tries to find her way out of the bedroom with her eyes closed.
“I’m never going to be able to look her in the eye again,” I mumble, trying to smush my face into the pillows to hide, or die, whatever. I won’t complain.
Rhys chuckles. “That’s definitely a new experience for me.”
“You’ve never been caught with a woman in your bed?”
“No,” he answers. “I’ve only ever had you here.”
“Hmm,” I say without using real words.
“Now,” he says, “would you like me to fuck you or would you like breakfast?”
“I don’t think we can ever have sex again,” I reply.
