Without any way to go but where she pulled him, Rhys was again distracted by the skimming of her fingers over his skin. As she went down, he followed, fingers impatiently working the hooks of her corset to get that damned contraption out of his way. Still far too many layers, but he was making quick work of them, one by one.
Crouched before her, he felt a shiver run up his spine along with her fingertips. The kiss was searing and he could feel the desperation rising with each breath and as she tangled her fingers in his hair, Rhys hissed out a groan against her lips. He had to come up for air, but was in no mood to give any distance between them. He reached down to undo the laces of his boots so he could easily step out of them, pulling hers off in turn, hands running up her legs under her skirts until the found the top of her stockings and the prize of the bare skin of her thighs. Once he got all of those layers of skirts out of the way...
Merlin's fucking beard. What the fuck was he doing?
His whole body froze, fingers pressed into her thighs, the taste of her on his lips and Rhys finally came to a brief moment clarity. "Zinnia," he managed, looking up at her helplessly. "Are you— are you sure?" There was no coming back from this. Hell they had already obliterated the lines of propriety, but this could not be undone. There could be huge consequences.
Every other piece of him was screaming to forget it, to continue in the direction they'd set out in, but he had to be sure. He needed her to give him permission, to tell him this was what she wanted.
Crouched before her, he felt a shiver run up his spine along with her fingertips. The kiss was searing and he could feel the desperation rising with each breath and as she tangled her fingers in his hair, Rhys hissed out a groan against her lips. He had to come up for air, but was in no mood to give any distance between them. He reached down to undo the laces of his boots so he could easily step out of them, pulling hers off in turn, hands running up her legs under her skirts until the found the top of her stockings and the prize of the bare skin of her thighs. Once he got all of those layers of skirts out of the way...
Merlin's fucking beard. What the fuck was he doing?
His whole body froze, fingers pressed into her thighs, the taste of her on his lips and Rhys finally came to a brief moment clarity. "Zinnia," he managed, looking up at her helplessly. "Are you— are you sure?" There was no coming back from this. Hell they had already obliterated the lines of propriety, but this could not be undone. There could be huge consequences.
Every other piece of him was screaming to forget it, to continue in the direction they'd set out in, but he had to be sure. He needed her to give him permission, to tell him this was what she wanted.
![[Image: RhysSig.png]](https://i.ibb.co/hdz329f/RhysSig.png)