Striking (Red Lips & White Lies Book 7)

Monday . . . You motherfucker.

—Bellamy’s Secret Thoughts

“Are you coming to play poker, baby?” Clara asks as Joss slides to the next image in what feels like a never-ending parade of possible coronation dresses.

“No. Queen bee and I have work to do.”

I look up from the iPad and glare. “I hate when you call me that.”

“But that’s what you are,” Atticus yells from the other room, and I flip him the bird. Not that he can see it.

She points at me and then points at the iPad. “Crown up, buttercup, and keep looking.” She leans back, and Clara drops a kiss on her lips. “And you . . . You are going to kick the boys’ asses and suck them dry.”

“I do like the sound of that. Love you, pookie,” Clara calls out as she walks back into the other room where Rhys, Atticus, and Silas are setting up for poker night.

“Pookie . . .” I hand Joss the device full of dress options and more than one message from my oldest brother, which I’m choosing to ignore. “Did she seriously call you pookie?”

Poo-kie . . . Wow.

“It’s a joke.”

I lift a brow. “It would have to be.”

“She loves that Broadway musical Rent. The one girl calls her girlfriend pookie, and I laughed. Now I’m being punished. But have you seen Clara? I’ll deal with pookie if it makes her happy.”

“Aww . . . that’s kind of sweet.” I lift my champagne and look through the doors at the gorgeous man watching me as he shuffles a deck of cards.

Joss sucks in a breath, and I cringe.

I can’t help it. I love staring at him.

“Umm . . . bee. You need to look at this.”

“I am watching . . .” I sigh, and she shoves the iPad at me.

“Not Rhys, you twit. The text from Cross. He seems pissed, bee.”

“I swear to God, one day I’m going to kill my husband for that stupid nickname.”

“Your whole family calls you bee,” Joss attempts to defend the nickname.

“They don’t. They call me B. Period. Like the letter B. You all call me bee like a freaking bumble bee.”

“They’re cute,” she argues.

“They’re bugs, Joss.” The screen lights up again, and I cringe.

“He seems angry . . .” she says as she looks over my shoulder. “Brothers are such a pain in the bum.”

Yes . . . yes, he does.

Shit.noveldrama

Older brothers are evil little shits.

Even when they’re an entire foot taller than you.

Oh, fuck this. I’m going to kill him.

I’m not even sure how to respond to that.

Can the queen of Mornea threaten to kill someone, or will the army actually do it because I typed the words? Asking for a friend.

Joss gasps. “What does he mean he warned you? Is that a threat?”

Oh, sweet baby Jesus.

“No, Joss. It’s not a threat. It’s my big brother being his overprotective self. He means well, but sometimes he treats me like one of his kids.”

“If you say so, but he seems like a bit much.”

Kind of funny coming from her. But I guess we’re all a bit much in our own way.

“He’s just . . . I don’t know. He’s just Cross. He’s always been the oldest. The one who looked out for Ares and me. The one who stepped in when Dad wasn’t home and then stepped up when he died. I’m not sure he’ll ever realize I’m an actual adult.”

“Little bee.” I turn around as Joss steps aside, and Rhys moves next to me with his phone in his hand. “Why is your brother texting me, asking if you’ve found an oncologist?”

I’m going to fucking kill my brother.

“Tell me he didn’t . . .”

Rhys looks down at his phone again, and I hold out my hand, silently asking for it, then wishing I hadn’t as a new message pops up.

“Care to tell me what I’m missing, love?” The steely edge to his voice sets my nerves on edge. “Why have you not found an oncologist? Better yet, why do you need an oncologist? Is something wrong?”

He softens and gathers my face in his hands. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Nothing is wrong.” I step out of his hold and hand him back his phone. “Cross is just being a dick.”

“I watched my mother die of cancer, love. Try again. And this time, try actually answering the question.”

“It’s just a check-up, Rhys,” I snap back. “I’ve already told you I see my doctor twice a year.”

It’s the first time Rhys has ever raised his voice to me, but it’s fear talking. Not anger.

I’m an asshole, but I’m an angry asshole, and I can’t stop now.

“Nothing about your life is just, Bellamy. If you need a check-up, it’s important. Your life is important. You are important.”

“Why? Because I’m the queen? I’m no better than anyone else, Rhys. My life isn’t more important than anyone else’s.” The hurt in his eyes is immediate, and my heart sinks as he grabs my chin.

“Because I can’t lose you” is a pained admission ripped from his chest. “Not the way I lost her.”

Tears pool in my eyes as much from anger and frustration as from sheer, overwhelming emotion. “Why do you care?”

“Do you really not know?” He gathers my face in both hands and wipes my tears with his thumbs. And I know . . . deep down in my bones . . . I know. “I have loved you since the very first day I met you, my queen.”

“Really?” I whisper, my heart struggling to accept what my head already knows. I wrap my fingers around his wrists, holding him here. Holding him close.

“More than my kingdom, my love.”

Those words soothe my soul in a way I didn’t know I craved.

His thumb caresses my cheek, and I press my lips against his palm, scared to admit the truth, because loving this man . . . loving this king will never be an easy life. But not loving him will never be an option.

“I love you too, Rhys. Not your title or everything that comes with it. Just you.”

“But can you live with the title and everything that comes with it? Can you love me in spite of them?”

I watch out of the corner of my eye as the door in the other room closes behind our guests, leaving us alone. “It’s all a part of who you are. Loving you means accepting the crown. And you are worth it.”

Rhys’s eyes glow with a need I know is reflected in my own. “I fucking love you, Bellamy.”

I drape my arms around his neck and give in to everything I’ve tried to ignore for months. To the magnetic pull I’ve known was more than just a physical attraction. To my husband who I married on a whim but fell in love with, little by little, each day with each tiny act of kindness. Of love. I give in to the paralyzing fear that I could never be enough. I give in to it all and trust Rhys to catch me when I fall.

“With you by my side, it all makes sense. This life . . . it’s different with you in it. Better. You make it better.” He slides his hand into my hair and tugs as my skin heats with his touch. “You are my true north, love. You are my direction. My reason why.”

I quickly blink away my tears as my breath catches in my throat. “Rhys . . .”

“You are the love of my life, little bee. You. Not my country. Not my crown. You. I just want you.”

“You have me, my king.” I bury my hands in his hair. “Now do with me what you want.”

His mouth is on mine in a heartbeat, hot and hard. Our tongues tangle as Rhys swings me up into his arms and carries me into our bedroom, and when he lies me down and pulls back to look at me, it’s with a reverence that steals my breath.

I chase his lips, desperate to close the distance between us and lick into his mouth. Desperate to feel his weight on me. In me. Destroying me.

Rhys settles one knee between my thighs. “You are the most important thing in my life, little bee, and I’m going to fucking worship you . . .”

Rhys

Nothing in the world could stop the groan that falls from my lips as I peel my wife out of her pretty little dress—one of the ones she likes to tease me with each day—and groan as she shoves my jeans down my legs and my sweater over my head. We’re a tangle of hands, desperate to get each other naked as quickly as possible.

I want to taste her skin and her screams.

She falls to her back with her knees bent and looks up at me through hooded eyes.

Fuck me . . . She is intoxicating.

With my cock fisted in my hand, I drag it through Bellamy’s hot cunt.

My head spins as all the blood in my body rushes to my dick.

Desperate to claim this woman . . . my woman.

She brings her knees up to cradle my hips between her thighs and pouts. “I’ve never wanted anyone or anything the way I want you, Rhys.”

My cock lies heavy between our legs, the tip teasing her drenched pussy. “You’ve got me, my queen. Until my last breath, I will be yours.” I run a hand over her face and lick into her mouth. “I love you.”

“Then show me, love.”

“With pleasure,” I groan and lace our fingers together and press them into the sheets on either side of her head, swallowing her moan as my dick teases her clit.

She wraps a leg around my hip, and her beautiful breath hitches in her throat. “Please, Rhys.”

“I’ve got you, little bee.”

Bellamy whimpers, and I press inside her the smallest bit.

Barely moving.

Barely breathing.

Something innately different between us tonight.

Slowing us down.

Savoring each quiet little inhale of her breath as I press further into her.

Every sexy sigh as I pull back out.

Teasing her.

Forcing myself to take my time.

Worshipping my wife.

“Rhys . . .” She clenches my cock in a vice-like grip. “Oh God, Rhys . . .”

The sound of my name on her lips is like a drug. She’s my high. My addiction.

My fucking queen.

I drag my tongue up her neck, savoring her sweet taste.

One I’ll never get enough of.

“You feel so fucking good, Bellamy.” The words are ripped from my throat in a guttural growl. “Too fucking good.”

Both legs wrap around my waist as her nails dig into my back, clinging to me.

“I want you to fuck me, Rhys. I don’t want gentle. I won’t break. I want to feel you for days. I want to remember tonight every time I move.”

Her words fuel the already-burning fire, and I shift my hips, slamming inside her.

Taking what I want and giving her everything I have.

“So good, Rhys . . .” she moans and digs her heels into my ass as I press my thumb against her clit, fucking desperate for her to come for me. “I’m so close.”

I take her ass in my hands and shift her hips, and she screams and pulses around me.

White-hot blistering heat builds at the base of my spine, and I come with her name a fucking benediction on my lips.