Page 27 of Crown of Thorns
“When you came all over my cock,” he says, his voice low. “Since you missed it the last time, be sure to pay attention now.”
I open my mouth to respond, the interlude was needed, but Saoirse’s untimely appearance is a stark reminder that there is still much left unsaid between us including the fact that she’s one of the specters that haunts our life together. How can I focus on staying safe, remaining alive, when I’m so busy fending offbarb after barb from my future mother-in-law? I’m so focused on her and her dramas that I forget that there’s real dangers out there.
But before I can say anything at all, Rhys smiles down at me. He clearly feels that the conflict is over and there is nothing left to resolve, and that frustrates me to no end. I want to organize my thoughts and feelings so that I can use what little time we have left together to explain to him how I feel, he presses his lips to mine softly. His eyes are heavy lidded as he watches me and then he begins to move, slowly sliding in and out of me all over again, reminding me that through our interruption and everything else, he never separated our bodies. And before too long I forget everything except for him and me and the way that he moves over and inside my body.
Chapter 9
The Proper Order of Things
Istare at myself in the tall dressing room mirror and feel a sinking pit open up in my belly. I just know that this dinner is going to be a disaster. I’m dressed wrong, I’m going to embarrass my long lost uncle who is on equal footing with my fiancé when I have absolutely no footing at all. Maybe I’ll use the wrong fork or spill spaghetti down the front of my dress. Do royals even eat spaghetti? Who knows? We feel so far away from the couple who ate spaghetti in my apartment so long ago. I feel like I don’t even know that version of me anymore. This one has scars on the inside that match the one through my eyebrow.
The options are really endless though. I’m definitely spiraling and, honestly, who could blame me?
“Everything is going to be fine,” Rhys says as he comes up behind me and presses a kiss to the patch ofskin just above my shoulder that sits uncovered. He’s in a gorgeous white dinner jacket. His tux shirt is unbuttoned at the collar and his tie hangs loose around his neck. He expertly fastens the collar and begins to tie his tie in the mirror as he stands behind me. There’s something so insanely intimate about it as he goes about his task while simultaneously watching me apply a pale peach gloss to my lips.
“I’m glad you’re so confident,” I mutter as I cap my gloss. “Because I have a feeling this is about to be a disaster.”
“Oh, it’ll be a nightmare for sure.” He winks at me and the gesture doesn’t make me feel remotely better. “But it’s just one more hurdle to cross before we can live our own lives.”
“I think you’re already living your own life,” I mumble, hoping he can’t hear me but I’m also not wrong.
Rhys isn’t the type of man to hold himself back from much. He’s like the tornado in the movieTwisterthat scoops up all that lies in its path of chaos and destruction—only, weirdly in a mostly good way—and I’m one of the cows that moos every now and then while it’s tossed about. I feel like I started in New England living a normal life and woke up as Dorothy in a faraway land. Only, no one is explaining the rules to me and I’m bound to inevitably get a house dropped on my clueless head.
I let out a distracted sigh until Rhys speaks again,pulling me from my derailing train of thoughts.
“You’re right,” he says. And his gentle smile turns into the arrogant grin that says he does get exactly what he wants, when he wants it. Unfortunately, it’s also the one that makes my brain go on the fritz. “I do tend to get what I want.”
“Hmm… love that journey for you.” I roll my eyes.
He wraps his arms around me from behind, and I can feel his smile against the side of my neck and the laughter that emanates from his chest where it’s pressed to my back. “Aye. I love that for me too.”
“Of course you do…”
“And do you know what I want right now?” he asks as he starts to gather the voluminous folds of baby blue chiffon of my skirt in his hands, slowly revealing the matte silver pumps that I have on underneath.
“No!” I practically shout, stopping him from revealing more. “It took me ages to look halfway decent and you’ll mess it all up. Besides, we’ll be late.”
“You’re much more than halfway decent, hen,” he says, his fingers soft on my chin as he turns my head, dropping a quick kiss to my mouth. I watch him pull back with wide eyes as the peach gloss smeared on his lips shimmers in the light. “And we’re already late.”
“Ohmigod!” I gasp as I look at the clock. We’re already a good fifteen minutes late. “We have to go. Like, now.”
“Fine,” he says with a sigh. “I guess we must.”
“Come on already! I’m tired of always being introuble,” I practically shout at him as I grab my silver evening bag covered in hand stitched on bugle beads.
“You’re never in trouble with me,” he says, and I side eye him hard. He might not be in trouble, but I am forever putting the wrong foot forward.
Best case scenario, I look like a blundering idiot, worst case scenario, someone fills my bed with pit vipers. I stop at the door and close my eyes, moving my hand over my upper body in the way my mom first showed me, and then repeated by my uncles, as I say a quiet blessing and ask God for protection.
“Then what do you call this afternoon?” I ask, the exasperation is clear in my tone of voice.
“A rather enjoyable interlude.” He smiles at me like the cat that got his cream, and in a way, I guess he did. “Besides, should you really be reminding me of more enjoyable pursuits at this juncture when we’re due to dine with our families? I’m more than half hard for you already.”
“I guess not.”
“Aye.”
“Besides you’re always more than half hard,” I reply snottily. “That’s hardly my fault. You’re hard for any female.”
