Lassitude stole across her limbs, weighting them, while at the same time a curious restlessness stirred in her belly. Her hips shifted forward, seeking relief from the fierce ache that had settled there. The slight movement did not go unnoticed by Lucius. He caught her gaze and his lips parted, baring his teeth.
He moved toward her, slow and silent as a wolf. Sudden apprehension stole Rhiannon’s breath as he advanced. He’d vowed not to hurt her, but he was a man, with a man’s lusts. Would he take her fast and hard, completing the act before she found more than a whisper of pleasure? Or, worse, would he demand more of her, more than she knew how to give?
She’d never given her heart to Niall, had never allowed him to touch her deepest secrets. Instinctively, she knew Lucius would not be satisfied with such a pale surrender. He would strip her soul to its essence.
The thought terrified her.
It also aroused her beyond bearing. Desire shot through her veins like fire-tipped arrows. She felt hot, and empty, and aching. She writhed as she caught the scent of him, the peaks of her breasts hardening. The fabric of her tunic chafed the sensitive tips. She longed for Lucius to slip the garment over her heated skin.
She knew by the fierce expression in his eyes he desired it, too, but he did not close the last bit of distance between them. Instead he moved away to the foot of the bed and gripped the raised end of the frame with both hands. His cock rested on the top edge of the intricate woodcarvings, pointing at her loins. The thought of its wide head penetrating her slick folds made her throat go dry.
“Remove your tunic,” Lucius said hoarsely. “If I attempt the task, the garment will surely be shredded past repair.”
Rhiannon blushed, but she could no more deny his request than she could refuse her lungs air. She pushed herself to a sitting position and unknotted the length of cord at her waist. Her fingers found the hem of her tunic and drew it slowly upward. Cool air brushed her thighs, then caressed the curls between her legs.
Lucius went still, watching, his breath growing rougher with each pass. A giddy sense of power filled Rhiannon. Bunching the linen in her fists, she eased it higher by infinite degrees over her hips, her stomach, her breasts. A gasp escaped her lips as the fabric grazed her swollen nipples. Then the garment whispered over her head, slid a slow path down her arm, and disappeared onto the floor.
“So beautiful,” Lucius said, but he made no move toward her. His dark gaze caressed her from head to foot. Rhiannon’s body responded to his scrutiny with a longing so violent she began to tremble.
“Please,” she said.
“Please?”
“I want—”
“What?” He leaned forward. “What is it you want from me, Rhiannon?”
Everything, Rhiannon thought, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the word. She suspected there was no need—surely Lucius could see the answer in her eyes.
“Lie back and place your hands above your head.”
The soft command coiled around her like the first murmur of a storm. Dizzily, she complied, lowering herself to the cushions and stretching like a cat. Her fingers reached up behind her and sought purchase in the carved terminal of the bed frame.
“Part your legs.” Lucius’s voice thrummed with urgency. Moisture seeped onto Rhiannon’s thighs and her blood rushed in her ears. She groaned but lay still, staring up at him, too embarrassed to comply.
Lucius’s heated gaze burned a path down her body, halting, she knew, at the bright triangle of curls that guarded her sex.
“Open for me, Rhiannon.”
As if of their own accord, her knees fell apart.
“Wider.”
She flushed hot and her breath came in shallow gasps, but she did as he asked, opening herself to his hunger.
His gaze consumed her. And though it hardly seemed possible, his cock swelled even larger. Rhiannon went slick and wet with the wanting of him, even as she wondered if he would fit within.
He leaned close, but didn’t reach for her. His white-knuckled fists gripped the bed frame so tightly she feared the wood was in danger of splintering.
“Touch yourself for me, Rhiannon.”
She looked up at him in dazed confusion. “What?”
“Cup your breasts with your palms.”
Lightning need, mingled with fear, shot through her. Emotions she’d never bared to the day fought to rise, called by a man she’d known but a sennight. Yet her soul leapt to his, finding some reflection of its own essence. She knew not why this should be so. She only knew that when Lucius spoke his dark, shameful commands, she was help less to resist him.
Slowly, she unclenched her fingers from the bed frame and smoothed her palms over her flushed skin. Sliding her hands under her breasts, she lifted the mounds like an offering.