Read Online Mina Wentworth and the Invisible City by Meljean Brook - Free Book Online
Authors: Meljean Brook
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lot fewer jobs that are needed overall. Then I’ll put books in front of them, so they can grow up and invent ways to make more money for me.”
She grinned. Rhys took care of his people, but it couldn’t be said that he was driven by altruism. “Is that your plan for next session?”
“Yes.” He slipped the wide straps of her chemise over her shoulders, down her arms. “But if I can’t convince Parliament to pay for it, I’ll do it myself. I’m already drawing up the plans.”
With a soft sweep of his thumbs across the tips of her breasts, her nipples hardened into beads. She drew a ragged breath. “You haven’t said anything.”
“It took me a while to get to it. There are a lot of problems to look at, everyone demanding that we solve them now, but all of these children growing up without an education or a crèche will be one hell of a problem in ten or fifteen years if we don’t do something about it soon.” His hand flattened over her stomach. “I promised that I’d make this a better place for us, for our children—and for Anne. It was after knowing her, seeing what the Crèche has managed to do, and speaking with your father . . . I finally had a better idea of how to go about it.”
Could she possibly love this man any more than she did? It seemed impossible. Yet her heart, already so full, seemed to stretch infinitely bigger again. It didn’t matter that, at the root, his motivations were only to fulfill a promise to her, only to benefit him. She knew he would cross any line for her. He’d killed, he’d burned cities—and at a word from her, he’d do it again.
But this was more than that. Now Rhys fought for something that he never had before. He was willing to change the world for the better . . . simply because he loved her.
It was incredible—and humbling. But he wasn’t humbled. Rhys was arrogant enough to believe he could change the world, and was determined to actually do it.
Arrogance and determination. He could have ruined her with them. He loved her instead, and used them to make everything he touched a little better.
Rhys moved behind her. “Where were you hurt this morning?”
Of course he hadn’t forgotten. “Beneath my right shoulder.”
His hands gentle, he turned her so the lamp on the bureau illuminated her skin. His silence weighed heavily in the room.
“Is it bad?” She didn’t think it would be. She hadn’t felt so much as a twinge for hours.
“It’s almost completely gone.”
Which meant it had been bad enough that the bruise hadn’t yet disappeared. When she faced him, that terrible tension filled him again, whitening the edges of his lips, tightening the skin over his cheeks.
She could wash her hair later. Mina put her glass aside.
His lips found hers, softly at first but quickly demanding, taking. Oh. This what she’d waited for, but now that he touched her, the anticipation only sharpened. Her fingers pushed into his hair, her thumbs running over those small gold hoops that drove her mad whenever she saw them. With a hungry growl, Rhys lifted her against his broad chest. Mouth fastened to hers, he carried her across the room, pausing once to collect a square parchment envelope from the vanity. His tension never receded, and she knew that this time would be fierce, hard—pure possession.
By the blue heavens, she couldn’t wait for it.
Rough fingers stripped away her short pants and chemise. Face rigid with control, he laid her, naked, on the edge of the bed. Standing, still dressed, he pushed between her thighs, spreading them wide. His left hand tore at his breeches while he glided gentle fingers between her soft folds. Already so wet, so ready, his touch electrified her. Panting, she rocked her sex against his hand. His fingers breached her entrance, and her slick channel contracted around him. Oh, blue. Mina cried out, her head falling back. Over the pounding of her heart, she heard his tortured groan.
Parchment crackled. He
She grinned. Rhys took care of his people, but it couldn’t be said that he was driven by altruism. “Is that your plan for next session?”
“Yes.” He slipped the wide straps of her chemise over her shoulders, down her arms. “But if I can’t convince Parliament to pay for it, I’ll do it myself. I’m already drawing up the plans.”
With a soft sweep of his thumbs across the tips of her breasts, her nipples hardened into beads. She drew a ragged breath. “You haven’t said anything.”
“It took me a while to get to it. There are a lot of problems to look at, everyone demanding that we solve them now, but all of these children growing up without an education or a crèche will be one hell of a problem in ten or fifteen years if we don’t do something about it soon.” His hand flattened over her stomach. “I promised that I’d make this a better place for us, for our children—and for Anne. It was after knowing her, seeing what the Crèche has managed to do, and speaking with your father . . . I finally had a better idea of how to go about it.”
Could she possibly love this man any more than she did? It seemed impossible. Yet her heart, already so full, seemed to stretch infinitely bigger again. It didn’t matter that, at the root, his motivations were only to fulfill a promise to her, only to benefit him. She knew he would cross any line for her. He’d killed, he’d burned cities—and at a word from her, he’d do it again.
But this was more than that. Now Rhys fought for something that he never had before. He was willing to change the world for the better . . . simply because he loved her.
It was incredible—and humbling. But he wasn’t humbled. Rhys was arrogant enough to believe he could change the world, and was determined to actually do it.
Arrogance and determination. He could have ruined her with them. He loved her instead, and used them to make everything he touched a little better.
Rhys moved behind her. “Where were you hurt this morning?”
Of course he hadn’t forgotten. “Beneath my right shoulder.”
His hands gentle, he turned her so the lamp on the bureau illuminated her skin. His silence weighed heavily in the room.
“Is it bad?” She didn’t think it would be. She hadn’t felt so much as a twinge for hours.
“It’s almost completely gone.”
Which meant it had been bad enough that the bruise hadn’t yet disappeared. When she faced him, that terrible tension filled him again, whitening the edges of his lips, tightening the skin over his cheeks.
She could wash her hair later. Mina put her glass aside.
His lips found hers, softly at first but quickly demanding, taking. Oh. This what she’d waited for, but now that he touched her, the anticipation only sharpened. Her fingers pushed into his hair, her thumbs running over those small gold hoops that drove her mad whenever she saw them. With a hungry growl, Rhys lifted her against his broad chest. Mouth fastened to hers, he carried her across the room, pausing once to collect a square parchment envelope from the vanity. His tension never receded, and she knew that this time would be fierce, hard—pure possession.
By the blue heavens, she couldn’t wait for it.
Rough fingers stripped away her short pants and chemise. Face rigid with control, he laid her, naked, on the edge of the bed. Standing, still dressed, he pushed between her thighs, spreading them wide. His left hand tore at his breeches while he glided gentle fingers between her soft folds. Already so wet, so ready, his touch electrified her. Panting, she rocked her sex against his hand. His fingers breached her entrance, and her slick channel contracted around him. Oh, blue. Mina cried out, her head falling back. Over the pounding of her heart, she heard his tortured groan.
Parchment crackled. He
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