“Where does this lead?” I reach up onto my toes to see over his shoulder as we round a corner.
Rhys pushes open another door, and we step into a room twice the size of mine.
In one smooth motion, he slides the door closed and plants his hands on either side of my head, caging me in. “It leads to my room.”
“Oh. Well, that seems... conveniently placed.” I lick my lips, wondering what it is that keeps drawing us back to each other.
“I’m sure some old, fat prince or duke had it installed hundreds of years ago for a mistress, but Atticus and I made plenty of late-night escapes through these tunnels.” Rhys ghosts his mouth over mine, and my heart races. “You have your condition, are you ready to hear mine?”
“Probably not,” I whisper against his lips. “But I’m not good at waiting.”
“I want you in my bed every night.”
“Is that a good idea,Your Royal Highness?”
“Pretty sure it’s the best damn one I’ve ever had, love.” His tongue runs along my bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. “I’ll barely be here this week, and I want to spend as much time with you as possible.”
Rhys leans into me, and my hips grind desperately against him.
Needing the pressure.
Hoping for some relief that isn’t coming.
“You have to get back to the palace,” I moan as I throw my arms around his shoulders, wanting to get closer.
My skin heats with awareness as his erection presses against me. “Say yes, Bellamy.”
His words hold promise.
A promise I want.
I’m going to be here anyway . . . right?
“Yes.”
BELLAMY
The right man will raise goosebumps on your soul.
—Bellamy’s Secret Thoughts
Sleep doesn’t come easily for me. It hasn’t been my friend in many, many years. Not since I spent weeks alone in a hospital isolation room, waiting for a bone marrow transplant. As soon as they were allowed, my brothers took turns sleeping in my room, but something about those first nights has stayed with me for over a decade. Something I’ve never quite gotten over.
I deal with it, but I don’t like it.
I come up with every imaginable reason to stall going to bed most nights. Like tonight... I go through the closet, looking for my pajamas, but what I find instead is more like the kind of lingerie I’d look at but never bother to buy myself. Long chemises, short, silk nightgowns, a white satin babydoll with tiny pink bumble bees embroidered along the trim... Where inthe world did he find this? Or more accurately what did he tell Joss so she could find it, and how did she do it on such short notice?
I’m tempted to slip it on but feel like it might be a bit much and decide to take a peek inside Rhys’s closet instead. His closet is perfectly organized. Suits and shirts hang perfectly in color-coordinated rows. Glass-topped drawers of watches top one row of drawers, ties another, and belts yet another. I decide to explore a little and find a Mornea Air Force t-shirt hanging between his polos. It’s a threadbare mossy-green tee that’s likely to hang down to my knees, but it soft and smells like him. Something about that relaxes me just a little. Something I refuse to focus on as I slip into his shirt and climb into his bed, like I promised.
Dark-green sheets are cool against my warm skin, and the heavenly scent that is only Rhys envelops me, dragging me under. I turn to my side and wrap my arms around a pillow as my eyes grow heavy. Maybe I’ll just close them for a few minutes.
Rhys
Atticus and I walk up the steps of Lilihill sometime before the sun rises the next day, completely drained. The high council fought every single thing I’ve said for the past... Fuck. I don’t have any clue what time it is. I reach for the door, but Atticus leans against it instead.
“I’m not up to verbal sparring, little brother. Say whatever you have to say so I can sleep before we spend another day fighting the government.”
“Lennon and Maddox are in there.” He nods toward the door. “I’d hoped we get a chance to talk about Operation Queen Bee.”
