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I made a show of surveying my cozy long-sleeved nightgown. “Why?” I asked innocently, even as my toes curled under the blankets.
He faced me fully, unbuttoning the top of his black jacket. “We usually spend our nights doing something other than paperwork.” Another button came free. “What was it, now?”
I returned to the proposal, though I didn’t process any of the lines before me. “Sleeping for as long as our son will let us?”
“That doesn’t sound quite right.” His voice had lowered to a gravelly purr.
“Getting into vicious fights with Amren?”
His eyes glittered. “I’m amazed you’re still alive.”
I flicked my stare over the top of the papers. He’d shed the jacket and was slowly removing the dark shirt beneath. Golden, tattooed skin gleamed in the faelight, and my core tightened, aching.
But I wasn’t ready to give in, not quite yet. “You’re not going to scold me for the Amren fight?”
“It’s between you two—and I agree with you. I just didn’t have the balls to say it.” A wink, as if he knew exactly where my eyes would go after that.
But I refused to look below his waist as I huffed, “I’d think the grandmotherly nightgown would convey all the interest I have right now, Rhys.”
His long fingers unhooked the first button on his trousers. He’d already taken off his boots upon entering our suite, so there was little resistance as he let the pants drop to the floor.
I gaped. “You weren’t wearing underwear?” Never mind that my mate was already hard, his proud, thick cock setting my mouth watering.
“You looked so stunning this morning that I forgot.” He stalked toward me, wings flaring slightly. He pulled the blankets off me one by one. “You distract me, Feyre darling.”
“Did you deliberately go without them so you’d shock me?”
He grinned, pure predator closing in on his prey. “Are you shocked? Or . . . delightfully surprised?”
He pulled the last of the sheets off me, revealing my bare legs. And the scent of arousal I didn’t bother hiding. Rhys let out a low rumble deep in his throat. “The grandmotherly nightgown doesn’t seem to be having its intended effect.”
I loved this, lived for this—the chase between us. I set aside the spending proposal. Slowly got to my feet. Held his gaze the entire time I pulled the laces on the front of the nightgown free. Let it tumble to my feet.
Naked lust flooded Rhys’s expression as he took in my bare body, the breasts full and swollen. “Now look who’s not wearing any underwear,” he teased.
My nipples ached—and not from the milk already building up behind them. Rhys took a step toward me. Just one. And then dropped to his tattooed knees.
Only for me would he do this: kneel on those mountain-tattooed knees, the promise to kneel to no one and nothing but his crown. But for his mate, his High Lady—
I let Rhys hook one of my legs over his shoulder, right under a wing, as his hands came around to support me, fingers kneading into my bottom with luxurious pressure. “I love you,” he murmured as he lowered his head to my bared sex. “You have no idea how much.”
At the first decadent sweep of his tongue up my core, I managed to pant, “Oh, I think I know.”
I felt his smile before he licked again, slow and taunting. “You’re so wet I could fuck you this instant.”
I bit my lip to keep in my moan. The baby was in the other room, and we did have to keep our voices down to avoid waking him—
Another savoring lick. “But I think I’ll taste you for a little while, Feyre darling.”
In one smooth movement, he hoisted me right onto the bed, positioning me at the edge of the mattress.
And then he buried his face in me. My skin flared with heat, too tight on my breasts, my bones. I clapped a hand over my mouth to muffle my groan. He knew what he was doing—a few licks and I was utterly bent to his will.
He sucked at the apex of my sex, rolling the bundle of nerves over his tongue right as he slid a finger into me. My hips rose off the bed, and he pinned me with his other hand, holding me still for his ministrations.
“All this time,” he mused, slipping another finger into me, pumping in a maddeningly slow rhythm. “All this time and I still can’t get enough of you.”
“Rhys.” His name was a plea.
