Page 25 of Striking
There we go. Problem solved.
“You’re in my bed.” God, that voice. How’s it fair that it sounds even better first thing in the morning.
He pulls me back against him, and that answers at least one question. The t-shirt I hadn’t realized I was wearing slides up my back, and my panties slide up my ass. There is absolutely no way I’d be dressed right now if I slept with this man. I’m fairly certain we’d probably still be having sex if we’d given in.
And while that doesn’t seem like a horrific idea, my pounding head disagrees.
I try to shimmy away but somehow manage to rub up against his incredibly hard dick instead, and there goes that groan—again. It’s deep and gravelly and somehow doesn’t hurt my head.
“I was a gentleman last night. But I’m not sure how much control I’ll have if you keep doing that.” He flips me onto my back, and the weight of his gaze is just too much to ignore. Gentle hands push the hair away from my face, and I finally force my eyes open. “There she is.”
That voice . . .
“Hi,” I whisper, and Rhys’s sleepy smile turns hungry as he leans over me. His bare chest just out of reach as I soak in every inch of his golden skin. With the tips of my fingers, I trace a line of his tattoos along the arm that’s propping him up and follow the corded muscles along to his face, where it’s too easy to get lost in the way he’s looking at me.
My thumb skims his lip, and I feel myself falling but forget to care. To breathe. To think. About anything. Not how different we are or what a bad idea this is. The throb in my head falls away, and the only thing I feel is him and this magnetic pull between us.
Rhys kisses my thumb, and I feel. It. Everywhere.
Pulling at every electric spark arcing between us.
With a lazy, sexy smile, he takes my hand in his and kisses my knuckles.
And I suck in a breath at the contact?—
Wait . . .
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
My heart hammers inside my chest as I try to refocus my eyes.
Am I still drunk?
I blink, hoping I’m seeing things.
Oh God . . . it’s still there.
“Rhys...” Hysteria works its way up my throat until I’m choking. “Why do I have a diamond ring on my finger?” I try to pull my hand away, but Rhys refuses to let go.
“I’m fairly certain I demanded to be let in the royal vault after...” His words die off as he smirks.Smirks,like he’s not telling me he put a royal ring on my finger.
“After what?” I demand.
A curse falls from his lips as a muscle in his jaw tenses. “After we got married.”
“We what?” My voice cracks as I sit up, and the room spins around me. “Oh God.”
My heart beats so fast, I feel like it’s going to explode out of my chest.
“I can’t . . . I can’t breathe,” I whisper.
He presses his lips to my temple. “Shh... you’re okay. Breathe, love. In through your nose and out through your mouth.”
“I’m a nurse. I don’t need to be walked through calming a panic attack,” I snap and refuse to admit that I’m doing exactly what he said because nurse or not, I’m pretty sure my brain isn’t firing on all cylinders right now, and breathing isn’t coming naturally.
His big palm slides under my t-shirt that I’m realizing is actually his.
Hmmm, that smells good.
