Page 13 of Striking (Red Lips & White Lies #7)

“Why then? Why marry me? I know neither of us were thinking straight last night, but you’ve got to give me something here, Rhys.

” I wrap my fingers around the ladder-back chair at the small dining table and force my feet not to move, even if the pull is strong.

“Because it sounds like you knew there was no out.”

“I could ask you the same thing. Do you have an answer, little bee?” The way he runs his hand through his hair looks practiced.

Like he’s done it all day, and maybe he has.

Maybe he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

Maybe this is already one of the worst days of his life, and demanding answers neither of us has isn’t fair.

Shit.

“Not a good one. Not one that makes sense.” Apparently not one that gets me out of this marriage. “So what do we do?”

“Make the best of it. Some of the longest marriages have been built on less.” Rhys loses whatever internal battle he’s fighting and stalks across the room, and I’m not sure what annoys me more.

That he couldn’t give me space, or that my body relaxes as he gets closer.

“Give me some time, Bellamy. Let’s figure this out.

Think of all the good you could do as my queen. ”

I recoil with that word.

“I don’t know?—”

“We don’t need to know yet, bee. I’ll be locked in meetings at the palace most of this week.

The funeral will be on Friday, and we can figure everything out after that.

” He speaks with an air of authority that makes you want to follow.

A natural leader. It’s incredibly sexy, and even more annoying.

“You came here to look into the foundation. You came here to help. Well, help me. Spend this week getting familiar with everything we’re doing and everything you’d want to implement.

And maybe you could spend some time with Joss.

I’m sure she’d love to help you understand some of the intricacies of this world. ”

He reaches for me, and I give in and let him.

I step into him, utterly frustrated.

With my inability to stay away.

With the situation.

With Rhys for his part in it.

With my less than responsible judgment for allowing it to happen.

But mostly, I’m annoyed with myself—because a tiny piece of me doesn’t hate this idea as much as I should.

A tiny little delusional piece of me is clinging to the way my father always insisted everything happens for a reason, and sometimes you just have to lean into it and follow where the wave takes you .

Well, I might not be on his fishing boat right now, but I’ve got a funny feeling there are stormy seas ahead, and I’m not sure they make life vests big enough for this.

“Fine,” I give in and offer up a silent prayer that this isn’t the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. And considering what I did last night, that’s saying something. “But I have one condition.”

He takes my face in his hands and tilts it up. “Name it.”

“I don’t want to tell anyone. If my brothers find out, they’ll blow off whatever games they have on the schedule and fly over here to drag me back home. They take overprotective to a nuclear level.”

“I can handle your brothers, love.”

“But I can’t. More accurately, I don’t want to. That’s my condition. Take it or leave it.” Surprisingly, my voice doesn’t waver.

“My sister and Maddox will be here in a few hours,” Rhys warns.

“Don’t you think Lennon will have enough to deal with already?” I counter.

He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, and that buzz that always seems to be there whenever he touches me ignites. “I hate the idea of hiding you.”

“I don’t love the idea of being hidden, but I don’t see another way.” I look around the room. “There are worse places to hide.”

“Yes, love, there are. Which reminds me...” He takes my hand and walks into the bedroom and over to a corner with a stunning pale green chair with tiny white butterflies embroidered all over it. Rhys slides the chair aside and presses his palm against the wall and pushes.

“Oh my God. It’s a door.” I peek inside and smile. “Is that a secret passage...?”

Rhys steps inside the narrow hall, barely wide enough to fit him, and pulls me behind, then closes the door. A dull light hums to life overhead, apparently activated by our movement.

“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.”