The Rebel King

'My sweet Rhia…tell me-are you thinking of sex right now?'

Her laugh was almost desperate. She barely managed to produce a whisper. 'You know the answer to that.'

'Then…will you take this off for me? Please, my love. Holding her eyes with his. he brought his hands upward under the two halves of her jacket and moved them apart… peeled them slowly back…pushed them over her shoulders. The soft leather whispered as it slid to the floor. 'And this?' He teased her pullover up just far enough to bare a wide strip of her torso to his warm, exploring hands, leaving it for her to take from there. He closed his eyes and drew a rapt breath. 'Ah…luv… you feel so good to me.'

A shudder of desire jolted her as she pulled her sweater over her head. He murmured something soothing and moved his hands around and spread them wide across her back to support her as he brought his mouth to her unguarded breast. Freed of clothing, her arms settled like wings around him. and a fine velvety warmth enveloped one nipple…then the other, leaving the abandoned one cold and bereft, and hardening painfully against the moistened lace of her bra. A moan slipped from her lips almost unnoticed.

His wandering fingers found the clasp of her bra. And this, my love…will you take this off. too?' His face swam before her in deepening shadows…his voice was a low. hypnotic murmur, almost felt rather than heard. It seemed to weave a web of enchantment over her, leaving her powerless to speak or to move.

But not to think.

My love…my sweet: does he even realize he's saying those words?

His fingers slipped under the straps of her bra and eased them down her arms, turning even that into a caress so tender and erotic it made her stomach quiver. And when, on their return journey, those same fingers traced a new path along the under-curve of her breasts, and his mouth, exploring… tasting… discovered a bared nipple chilled and longing for its return embrace, she felt pressure swell in distant nerve-rich places…and her neck muscles melt and her eyelids drift down like velvet curtains.

And if he does realize it…does he mean them, or are they just…words?

She swayed dizzily…her fingers burrowed deep in his hair while his parted lips feathered downward over her stomach and his clever fingers released the buckle on her belt.

'I want to see you…taste you…touch you…all of you. Will you let me, sweet Rhia? Do you want that, too?'

'Yes…oh-please…'

His fingers…magic fingers…eased the zipper down… slipped between flesh and fabric and shucked away the last of her barriers, and in the same swift motion, claimed what he'd uncovered for his own. She stepped out of her clothes, clinging to his shoulders for support, and felt his knee push between her trembling legs.

He tilted his head back to look at her and whispered hoarsely. 'Kiss me, now, my dearest Rhia…come to me, love.'

And if he does mean them? Oh… what if he does mean it…?

She remembered, then, what she'd said to Zara. Was it just this morning? I told her it would be worse if he did…and it is…oh, it is!

She gave a shaken, whimpering cry; had she ever made such a sound before'? Blindly, she lowered her mouth to his. and it was a little like hurling herself into a bottomless sea. Immersed…lost…she scarcely felt it when a second knee pressed between her thighs, barely knew when her trembling legs gave way and his strong hands guided her down and settled her naked onto his lap.

While she waited in quivering anticipation, legs apart, her feminine places open like a blossoming flower, exposed and vulnerable to his clever, questing fingers, his hands moved unhurriedly almost lazily over her body, scattering hot-cold shivers across her skin wherever they touched. The rough fabric of his shirt abraded her tender nipples, and her hands gathered it convulsively across his shoulders, tugged at it in frustration, wanting only his naked skin touching her. Anything else was torture.

And his mouth…his mouth consumed her. His tongue slid rhythmically over the sensitive surfaces of her mouth, venturing deeper, filling her, blotting out thought. There was only feeling, searing sensation…and Nikolas, his mouth, his hands, his body.

And a desperate need. A terrible emptiness waiting to be filled. She wanted, with an urgency unlike anything she'd ever known before. And yet asking for what she wanted… needed…seemed beyond her. She seemed capable only of tiny breathless whimpers.

Then…even that was stilled. Her breath stopped as his fingers found her swollen petals at last, and with incredible gentleness slipped between them…then inside her. Just a little, at first…then deeper…filling the emptiness…filling her with a fierce dark heat that drove the breath from her body in a shuddering gasp. She tore her mouth from his as her spine convulsed and her body arched back, and she uttered his name in a shaip, piercing cry.

Instantly, his arm came across her back, strong as steel, protective as a bird's wing, shielding her, supporting her. His hand came to cradle the back of her head, bringing her face into the comforting hollow of his neck and shoulder, and he held her there, held her in warmth and safety while his fingers moved rhythmically inside her and the throbbing pressure built to its inevitable breaking point.

'Nik-' Her voice was silvery with panic, her breath like a knife in her throat.

Instantly, his whispered words were there, cooling the damp hair above her ear. 'Too much, sweetheart? Shall I stop?'

'No! But I can't…I-' …can't say I love you! 'I need you to…hold me. Please…'

'I am, my love. This is me, holding you. I've got you…it's okay…it's okay…'

And for that moment, as she finally let go of reason and tumbled headlong into the vortex, she let herself believe it could be…

I've got you… But Nikolas wondered for a time, as he felt the strongest, most capable woman he'd ever known tremble like a frightened fawn in his arms, just who was holding whom. The cataclysms he felt rippling like small earthquakes through her body were only echoes of the shock waves tearing through his soul.

I love you. Rhia de Hayes. The thought came, not with fireworks now. but as a steady drumbeat deep in his heart, a pulse that would be a part of his life force from this day forward for as long as he lived.

While he was holding her, tightly…tenderly…and her hot and swollen flesh still throbbed in his hand, darkness came at last and settled over them both like a chilling mist. He felt Rhia shiver as the passion-heat subsided, but when he shifted her slightly and gently withdrew his hand from her body, she gave a tiny cry of protest and shuddered convulsively, as if trying to burrow closer to his warmth.

He knew how she felt. He hated to let go of her, as well, even though he knew that, in order to find relief from the growing discomfort in his nether regions, he was going to have somehow to find a way to extricate himself from his clothes.

'Forgive me, my love,' he whispered to the sweet-scented dampness of her hair. 'Poor planning on my part. I know, but… in my defense. I simply couldn 't wait another minute to have you… We need to find a better place for this. Warmer…at least.'

From the hollow of his neck her voice came, a muffled and unsteady version of his own British accent. 'Ahem…I seem to recall seeing a perfectly lovely bed around here somewhere. Seems a pity not to use it…'

He started to laugh, then winced. 'Ow. Dearest…before I do myself permanent injury, d'you think…'

'Don't worry,' she said as she lifted her head, sounding both husky and giddy at the same time, seemingly caught up in a strange half-dazed euphoria, 'if you do, I shall kiss it and make it well.'

Laughter gusted from him as the same lightness of being washed over him. too. He kissed her and then, holding her tightly still, managed to get both of them to their feet.

He was relieved to discover the chest he'd been sitting on wasn't locked. As he'd hoped it might, it yielded up a treasure trove of feather bedding, relatively dust-free and reeking of cedar. Uncounted seconds later, he and Rhia were up on that high old-fashioned bed. both wrapped in one great cloud-soft comforter, naked and breathless, laughing and shivering like naughty children.

The laughing and the shivering died quickly and together as the passion-wave engulfed them again. And like a tsunami's second wave, it was just as devastating as the first-more so. since there were no barriers left in its way. nothing at all to slow it down. Hands and mouths were free to roam where they pleased, and they did. taking and