He paused on an inhale. Rhiannon licked her lips. They had gone suddenly dry.
“Then I moved to your breasts …”
Her nipples tautened as if they’d been touched. She clutched her knees tighter, pressing them into her chest.
“Then your navel …” Lucius’s breathing was rougher now and his tone had taken on a sharp edge. “I circled it with the tip of my tongue.” His voice dipped to a bare whisper. “The taste was sweet, but I knew there were hidden places that would taste sweeter still.” Rhiannon eased back slightly, her grip on her legs loosening as she strained to catch his words. Her hands moved to the cushion to balance her weight.
“I followed the scent of your need.” His low, vibrant voice stroked like a caress. “I drank honey from the cup of your womanhood.” His breath fanned over her nape, but still he did not touch her. “No wine could compare.”
Her breath grew ragged and the fire between her thighs flared hot and slick. She imagined Lucius’s tongue there, lapping and probing in that forbidden place. She bit hard on her lower lip, stifling a moan.
“I lay back and you rose over me. You sank onto my shaft and rode me into a storm.”
Rhiannon’s knees fell apart. She leaned back, into his arms, her body pleading for that which her lips could not beg.
He tasted her at last, his mouth searing the hollow between her neck and collarbone. His tongue stroked over her in delicious waves. His scent, spiced and dangerous, filled her senses with the promise of dark ecstasy. She twisted, threading her fingers through his hair and drawing him close.
He made a sound of feral satisfaction. He surged onto the mattress, his weight pressing her to the cushions as his tongue plunged and retreated. He delved into her mouth—a hot, wet promise of pleasures yet to come.
He eased back, kissing a line from the corner of her mouth to her earlobe. “Your past is gone. You belong to me now, Rhiannon.”
His whispered words shattered the erotic fog hazing her brain, even as his shameless tongue sent another tremor of need coursing through her. She blinked and looked up at him. His eyes glittered down at her, alight with pure arrogance.
How many times had she seen the same expression on Niall’s face?
She gave a sharp cry and struck him, throwing her full weight into the blow. Her fist connected with his jaw. His head whipped to the side and he lost his balance. He rolled over the edge of the mattress and struck the floor with a sickening smack. Rhiannon scrambled off the opposite side of the bed, putting its bulk between them as he leaped to his feet.
He rubbed the back of his head and glared at her. “By Pollux! Why did you do that?”
“I don’t belong to you, Roman.”
“You do.” Anger radiated from his body with the force of a wildfire. Deliberately, he leaned across the narrow bed and caught her chin between his fingers. “Do not forget it. My patience is not infinite. You are mine and I mean to have you.”
“Shall I lift my hem for you then, master?” She spat out the word as if it were dung. “A quick plunge should soften your temper. My wishes hardly signify. A Roman never shrinks from lands where he is not welcome.”
“So you say. Yet I wonder—were I to slip my finger between your thighs, would I find myself unwanted?”
“Yes,” she said, but she twisted her chin from his fingers and dropped her gaze.
He gave a short, harsh laugh. “Soon, Rhiannon, you’ll beg me to conquer you. When I slip my sword into your sheath, you will writhe with the glory of it.”
Dear Briga, what arrogance. Yet even as she condemned him, she feared his words might very well be true.
He half turned and when he spoke again, it was as if to himself. “Another man would have taken you so often he would have tired of you by now.” He laughed again, and the brittle sound echoed off the walls. “Perhaps it is the final proof of my insanity that I intend to leave you untouched.”
She dared not risk a response to that.
He strode to the door. “No doubt I’ll see you in a dream again tonight.” Another chilling burst of laughter. “By Pollux, it is sure to be a nightmare.”
Chapter Five
The following morning, Rhiannon entered the kitchen shortly after dawn, intent on tracking down her brother-in-law.
“Is Cormac about, Alara?” she asked the stout Celt woman who had tried to coax her appetite the day before.
Alara looked up from the bread she was kneading and blinked in surprise. “Have ye discovered the man’s talents already then?”
Rhiannon gave her a sharp glance. Did the woman suspect Cormac was more than he seemed? “Talents?”