Twisted Games (Twisted, #2)(109)

She lifted one hand and tangled her fingers with mine. “I missed you.”

The mood shifted, transitioning from the brisk practicality of our plan to something softer and achingly vulnerable.

“I’m right here. I’m not leaving.” I swept my thumb over her bottom lip. “I take care of what’s mine, and you’ve been mine since the moment I saw you outside your poorly secured house at Thayer. Until I fixed it, of course.”

A smile tugged at her mouth. “You couldn’t stand me back then.”

“Doesn’t matter. You were still mine.” I curled my hand around the back of her neck while keeping my thumb on her lip. “Mine to fight with. Mine to protect. Mine to fuck.” My voice dropped. “Mine to love.”

Bridget sucked in an audible breath.

“In Costa Rica, you asked if I’d ever been in love. I said no.” I lowered my head until our foreheads touched and her lips were scant inches from mine. “Ask me again.”

It was the same request I’d made at the hospital, but this time, Bridget didn’t break our gaze as she asked, “Have you ever been in love, Mr. Larsen?”

“Only once.” I slid my hand up from her neck to the back of her head, cupping it. “And you, princess. Have you ever been in love?”

“Only once,” she whispered.

I exhaled sharply her words sank into my soul, filling cracks I hadn’t known existed.

Until Bridget, I’d never loved or been loved, and I finally understood what the fuss was about. It was better than any bulletproof armor or oblivion I found at the bottom of the bottle during my short-lived affair with alcohol.

Alcohol was for numbing, and I didn’t want to be numb. I wanted to feel every goddamn thing with her.

I pulled Bridget close until our bodies pressed flush against each other. “Damn right,” I said fiercely. “Only once. First and last. Don’t forget that, princess.”

I fisted her hair and tugged her head back, my mouth pressing hot and insistent against hers while I maneuvered us to a chair.

There were nights when I took my time, savoring every inch of her body before I gave us what we both wanted, and there were nights like this, when our desperate need to just be together overrode everything else.

“Rhys…” She gasped as I pushed her skirt up around her hips and ripped her panties off, too impatient to shimmy them down when she was sitting. I tossed the torn silk on the floor and pushed her legs wider with my knee.

“I love when you say my name.” I sank into her, swallowing her small cry with my kiss and pushing deeper until I was buried to the hilt.

We had to muffle our moans so they didn’t carry on the wind, and somehow that only heightened the intensity of the moment, like we were containing all our emotions in this small bubble where we were the only ones who existed.

“Harder, please.” Bridget arched into me, her nails digging grooves into my skin, her warm skin contrasting against the chill of the night air on my back.

I held onto the back of the chair for better leverage and gave her what she asked for, a groan ripping from my throat when she buried her face in my chest to muffle her scream. “You feel so good, princess.”

My blood ran white-hot as I slammed into her again and again, my muscles flexing from the effort. She was slick and tight, her breath hot against my skin as she clenched and shattered around me with a wordless cry.

My orgasm followed soon after, racing through me with such intensity it took me twice as long to recover than usual.

When the aftershocks finally subsided, I pushed myself up on my arms so I didn’t crush Bridget with my weight, but she wrapped her legs around my waist, keeping me close.

“Round two?” I brushed a strand of hair out of her face. She looked sleepy and lazy and content, and it still boggled my mind she was real.

Not only real but here, with me.

She let out a soft laugh. “You’re insatiable,” she said, turning the word I’d used for her against me.

“When it comes to you?” I kissed her jaw. “Always.”

Bridget’s eyes turned liquid beneath the moonlight, and her hold on me tightened. “I love you.”

Another breath rushed out of me.

“I love you too,” I said, my voice gruff with long-buried emotion.

I kissed her again.

Her mouth against mine, her limbs wrapped around my body, our breaths and heartbeats mingling until they were one…I’d lived in hell my whole life, and it wasn’t until now I glimpsed what heaven felt like.

But as our kiss deepened and I sank into her once again, I realized I was wrong.

Bridget felt better than heaven. She felt like home.





46





Bridget





After my night with Rhys, I kicked my plan into high gear and prayed it worked. I didn’t feel too bad about pressuring Erhall, but it wasn’t smart to alienate all of Parliament. I didn’t believe in ruling through fear.

That was how I found myself standing in front of three dozen journalists on Sunday, three days after my rendezvous with Rhys. We were gathered on the palace’s north lawn, and behind the press gaggle, spectators pressed against metal barricades, eager for an in-person glimpse of a royal.

My friends had left that morning. I’d filled them in on my plans, but I’d waited until they were on the plane back to the U.S. before holding the press conference. I didn’t want them to have to deal with the craziness that was about to ensue. They hadn’t been happy—they’d wanted to be here for moral support, but this was something I had to do on my own.