Sparks sizzled in the fire, and Njáll brought her palm to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the thin skin of her wrist.
A twinkling laugh rolled from her, her hips wiggling, and sending more blood south.
She turned to face him, taking the nearby soap and cloth, slowly dragging it over his chest. Knuckles whitened as he clenched the basin, restraining himself. Her tender care drove him mad.
The somber tone dissipated with the steam, and her hot center pulsed over his length.
“What happened?” she asked, eyeing the bandages as she rinsed away the suds.
Shifting, he grunted, not wishing to replay his failures in front of his kona. Her hand dipped under the rippling water, her ministrations moving dangerously close to a place they could not come back from.
“Careful, little flame,” he growled, a muscle in his jaw ticcing.
A wolfish smile slid over her lips, the soapy cloth resting on his pelvis. She crawled until she straddled him, her lips a breath away from his. He longed to mark her creamy skin, to see it dimple under his fingertips while he bruised her thighs with his mouth.
“Then maybe you should tell me how you got injured.”
He snorted, curling his fingers around her throat and stroking the skin.
“You barter better than a jarl.”
Her hand drifted, skimming the head of his cock, making him groan.
“Fine. You relentless creature. The Konungr proved why I must not be distracted when faced with his axe.”
Fingers bounced over her supple lips, a small furrow in her brow.
“Why were you distracted?”
Of course, she failed to comprehend how besotted he was. How disarming she was.
“You.All morning, I envisioned you, snuggled in our furs. I have ached for you, Elara. Now turn,” he ordered, grabbing the linen cloth from her fingers. “Let me tend to my kona as you have to me.”
When she didn’t move fast enough, Njáll gripped her waist, spinning her as he worked the soapy cloth into her shoulders.
“I’m sorry you got hurt because of m?—”
“Enough,” he said, cutting her off. “Do not apologize. My failures are my own. I will not make that mistake again. Not when my pretty flame waits for me.”
His teeth grazed the thin skin along the column of her throat. When his path trailed to the valley between her breasts and down to her navel, her breath quickened, her back arching.
“In here, it is only you and me, little flame. Allow me to dull your mind until all you have to do is feel.”
Something between a moan and a sigh escaped her, the sound delightful. He brought the cloth higher, brushing the underside of her breasts before swirling at her pink nipples. A breathy whine hissed through the quiet.
Njáll’s free hand clutched her waist, dimpling the skin as the veins in his hands flexed.
“You wish to torture me wish those pretty noises,” he mumbled, kissing the column of her throat as his fingers brushed the thatch of kempt curls above her sex.
“More,” she breathed, her eyes glazed.
“More what?” he purred, flicking his tongue over her pulse. “Tell me what you want, Elara.”
“You.All of you.”
The weight of the moment hung in the air. It wasn’t a request fueled by the whispers of desire.
Rather, something commanding, her seiðr calling to him, threading with the bond in his chest that was hers alone.
