will go. Goodbye.”
He said nothing else, he waited for nothing else, he simply pivoted on his heel and exited the room. Phillipa stared after him, green eyes wide, her entire expression dull and almost numb.
Rhys moved to the door, shut it so she couldn’t hear her father screeching at Barton in the hallway. She flinched slightly at the quiet click of it closing and turned her back toward him. Her shoulders slumped and she gripped the mantel with both hands, her fingers curling against the edge.
And though it was no more his place then it had been a few moments before, now he couldn’t stop himself from crossing to her. He placed his hands on hers against the mantel and she leaned back against his chest as her breath came shorter and faster.
“Phillipa,” he murmured, close to her ear. She pivoted into his chest and he folded his arms around her, holding her as she cried softly and briefly. As if she didn’t think she deserved to completely lose control, or feared the emotions washing over her at last.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She tried to back away, but he held her firm as he tucked a finger beneath her chin and made her look at him.
“You never have to say you’re sorry to me,” he said.
Her gaze was soft and held his for what felt like an eternity. Then it slid lower, focusing on his mouth. She licked her full lips, and he was lost. All his reasons for distancing himself fell away and he bent her head and claimed her mouth, promising himself this would be the last time. Lying to himself because he knew it wouldn’t be.
She lifted into him, a soft groan escaping her throat as she opened to him and their tongues merged with increasing passion. This kiss felt different. This kiss swept away reason and honor and duty.
This kiss felt like a prelude to all the delicious things he wanted to do to this woman. A prologue to a loss of control that would change everything between them.
He had to stop it. The reasonable, rational part of him roared at him to do so and with great difficulty he tried to pull away. She held tight this time, keeping their mouths a hairsbreadth away.
“Please don’t refuse me,” she murmured, her breath stirring his lips in the most distracting way. “Please don’t.”
“Phillipa,” he groaned. “It isn’t about what I want. It’s about what’s right…what’s fair…”
“You already told me nothing about this is fair,” she said, and let her lips nudge his jawline. “We are both suffering and we will continue to suffer. Why can’t we comfort each other? We both know it can’t be more than that. But why can’t we just have…this?”
She was a siren, drawing him toward the rocks. He knew it, but wrecking himself was going to be magnificent. He needed it, needed her, more than he needed the propriety that he struggled to maintain. So he pushed aside the voice he’d followed his whole life, the one that said honor and prudence and pride.
“We’re going to my room,” he said, catching her hand and drawing her from the parlor. “I’m not doing this anyplace where we could be found.”
She flinched as she stumbled up the stairs behind him. “Don’t want to risk your reputation.”
“No,” he said with a glance behind him. “It’s just that there are things I want to do to you, Phillipa. And what I want to do to you shouldn’t be interrupted.”
Chapter 10
Phillipa was shaking as Rhys drew her into his chamber. Shaking with need, shaking with anticipation, and yes, shaking with fear. Rhys seemed to note it even as he shut the door behind them, pressed her against it as he turned the key.
“Do you want this?” he asked.
She didn’t answer with words. She couldn’t find any. She just reached for him, drawing him to her, claiming his mouth with all the passion she’d tried to restrain for weeks.
Right or wrong, she wanted to explore it now. Perhaps for the only time, considering what was happening in both their lives. This was a stolen moment and she intended to revel in it.
He turned her, backing her toward the bed. As they staggered across the room, his fingers fumbled with the buttons along the back of her gown. He worked them free and stepped away from her as he tugged the dress forward, pushed it down around her waist.
And stared at her.
She blinked under the focus of his regard.