Page 55 of The Very Virile Viking

"Does that mean you like what you see?" It was difficult for Angela to bare herself so blatantly. Not that she was humble about her attributes. Good genes and regular exercise were responsible for the not-so-bad appearance she knew she presented.

"Are you trying to torture me, m'lady?" he choked out.

"What do you mean?"

"You are naked, in case you hadn't noticed." He wagged a forefinger at her in playful chastisement. "I thought we were only going to engage in a little loveplay. Naked equals big , to my mind. Naked in no way, in no country, in no culture equals a little anything. Naked portends something much more serious than 'a little loveplay.' Methinks you are trying to seduce me into breaking my vow."

"Uh-uh! No way! That's not what I meant, and I'm not totally naked, by the way."

He gave her a look, head to toe, that said she was splitting hairs.

"I just want to fool around… naked. Perhaps we will torture each other a little bit." Her defensive explanation sounded weak, even to her ears.

"Whatever," Magnus said with a slow smile. It was becoming one of his favorite words, she'd noticed.

"Does that mean that you don't object?"

"Object? If I were any more willing, certain body parts of mine could start a bonfire." He gave her a rueful look, then added, "But if you are going to torture me, it is only fair that I do the same." With a slow smile he shimmied out of his sweatpants and underwear, both at the same time, and Angela was faced with an astounding fact. Magnus resembled a tree in height; she'd known that from the first. Now she knew that he had some very impressive branches… one in particular.

She must have gasped, as Magnus had, because he winked at her… just before he pulled the jockey shorts back up. She knew why, too, and it was not just to mirror her attire. Dry tupping . That required

some item of clothing separating them, didn't it? And actually, he looked just as good in his revealing briefs.

Destiny was pretty appealing right now.

Chapter Nine

Even Vikings get lucky sometimes…

Magnus could not believe his eyes.

The woman he had been waiting for all his life— without knowing it, of course—was standing before him practically naked. And she wanted him. Him … the most lack-witted Viking in all the Norse world.

He had to be lack-witted to have wasted all these years with so many other women. Why had he not gone searching for her? Why had he bred babe after babe in meaningless encounters when he could have shared a love child with her?

Although she was not the most comely woman Magnus had ever coupled with, she was beautiful.

Though tall for a woman, she barely reached his shoulder. But then he was exceptionally tall, even for a Viking. He had been with some women who could have kissed his navel, they were so short… not that there hadn't been an appeal in that activity at the time. But he knew now he'd been a fool to waste his time so.

Angela's hair formed a cloud of black silk about her heart-shaped face. Her lips were painted crimson red… to match the enticing undergarment, he supposed. He could not wait to kiss it off—the lip color, that is.

Her body was rounded in all the right places. Narrow waist, wider hips. Long, shapely legs. And her breasts… ah, her breasts were high and full and rose-tipped.

He wished he had met her many years ago.

"Why?" she asked.

He hadn't realized that he'd spoken aloud.

"Because I would not have made so many mistakes in women. Because I would not have had so many children with other women. Because I would have been worthy of you then."

"And because you wouldn't have taken the vow?"

The woman is too perceptive, by far. "That, too," he admitted with a laugh, and opened his arms for her. She had said she wanted to do the touching, but they had to start somewhere. Much more dithering and he was going to do something really disgraceful… like beg. And he knew—not from personal experience— that the sight of a Viking on his knees was not a sight to be relished… unless, of course, the man in question was doing something interesting sexually. That latter he did know from personal experience. Slightly. Only slightly. Holy Thor! Why am I feeling guilty over things I did years ago? It is as if even when I did not know her, I was betraying her .

Angela took one look at his open arms, crossed her own arms over her breasts in delayed modesty, and strolled right by him. The impudent wench ! But he got an opportunity to gaze at her saucy behind in the skimpy red undergarment, so he didn't mind her bypassing him too much. She pointed to a long, low piece of furniture made of white cane, which was referred to in this country as a "chaise," and ordered him, "Lie down."

Be still, my heart… and other body parts. If m'lady thinks I am going to balk at her erotic orders, she had best think again. I am game for anything she might toss my way. Well, almost anything, as long as it does not involve breaking my vow… or perversions. Actually, it depends on the perversion. "Do I have to?" he griped in his best youthling whine.