Page 79 of Inside the Wicked

“Anastasia Kaiser sounds better anyway, so I guess my answer is yes, I’ll marry you.”

Rhett breathes a short, disbelieving laugh with the shake of his head. He crosses over to me, and I lean into him when he’s close enough.

“Your father would have me assassinated to hear that,” he says, but it doesn’t stop him from taking my face in his hands.

“Probably,” I whisper.

“Anastasia Kaiser,” he repeats like he’s tasting it on his tongue. There’s a flare of desire in his blue eyes that search mine. “That sounds sexy as hell.”

He kisses me hard, promising.

“I love you,” I say. Then it’s as if a strain in me is finally relieved. I’m free. “When you were gone it was all I could think about. How I never got to tell you I love you. That you mean everything to me, and nothing can change that. I don’t want this to ever end.”

Rhett’s eyes close, and he leans his forehead on mine. “We never end. In this life and the next. I found you first, and you found me back. We’re inevitable. I love you, Anastasia. With everything I am, I love you.”

Something changes in our kiss. The air. The way we move. It’s declaring and binding that this is absolute. I lift myself up into his arms, and he moves.

“Fire or movie?” he murmurs against my lips.

“Fire,” I say breathlessly. “Definitely.”

He lies me down, hovering over me, and I try to stay with him. Here. I try to keep hold of what’s burning so perfectly between us, but when his body presses to mine and his hand slips down my side, I’m right back there in my stone cell.

“Wait,” I pant.

Rhett stops, pulling back. I don’t know what to say, but he doesn’t need anything. He tucks my hair behind my ear and settles down beside me instead on the deep plush sofa. I turn so we’re face-to-face.

For a long stretch of silence, we share chaste kisses and soft touches until my heart calms again.

“Rhett?”

“Yes, baby?”

“This is going to sound veryunsexy, but Oma is under the impression I’d do better to act rather than talk,” I say tentatively.

“You can act and talk whatever you want with me.”

“I want you to put your hand down my pants.”

Rhett almost breaks a smile, but as quickly as a snuffed-out candle it falls to dark, barely suppressed anger.

“Is that what he did to you?”

“Please,” I say, pressing closer and kissing him. “No talking.”

Rhett’s thumb strokes my cheek. Then his hand makes a slow trail down my body. Over my chin, across my neck. He pauses on my breast, and my brow pulls together with the parting of my lips when he squeezes then pinches my nipple. Rhett captures my moan, deepening our kiss. His touch travels lower, skimming my bare skin where my top has raised. He gets to the button of my black jeans, and that’s when the slither of panic starts to weave through my lust.

I reach my hands up his chest, kissing him harder, as if it will drown out the fear. He pulls down my zipper, and his fingers brush under the waistline of my underwear.

“Tell me if you need me to stop,” he says, voice laced with pain.

My hands clutch his black T-shirt as if my life depends on it as he half-hovers over me, but I don’t want to stop.

“Keep going,” I whisper.

My heart is thundering, but I want this. I want him more than anything, and that bastard doesn’t get to take Rhett from me for another moment.

I moan when his fingers slip over my core.

---