Page 62 of Viking in Love

Oh, that was loathsome of him to remind her of that. She raised her chin haughtily, not about to beg him for mercy.

“Unbraid your hair and finger comb it out.”

Cheeks burning, she felt a strange vulnerability raising her arms and thus her breasts for his perusal. Once the braid was undone, she shook her hair off her face.

The stunned expression on his face was priceless. You would have thought she had handed him his heart’s desire.

“Turn around now, sweetling. I would see all sides of you.”

Sweetling? Hah! There is naught sweet about what he would do with me.

“Remove your hose.”

She was about to sit on the opposite chair to do so, but he quickly added, “Bend to take them off.”

This was truly the most embarrassing thing she had ever done. When she was done, she looked up, only to be surprised that he had already removed his tunic and short hose and sat wearing naught but low-riding braises. His chest hair was dark and curly leading down to a narrow waist and then his navel. His bare feet were long and high arched and oddly attractive. Her eyes shot up to see him gazing at her hotly.

“Come here, Breanne.” He spread his legs for her to stand between them.

She dragged her feet, curling her toes to fight the irksome tingles. But then she stood before him, so close she felt his body heat and more.

He performed an excruciatingly detailed examination of her body, his calloused fingertips tracing the outsides of her arms down to her wrists, her collarbones, her sides from armpits to waist, hips to thighs. When his knuckles grazed lightly over her nether hair, she jumped.

“Easy, easy,” he said, as if he was gentling a horse.

Which was what she felt like, an animal being inspected for market. But she could not think on that, as his wicked fingers had moved to her breasts. He lifted them from underneath, massaged them in wide circles of his palms, then strummed the nipples with his thumbs.

She groaned, so intense was the pleasure. “This is torture,” she whispered.

“Good torture, I hope. You do have big nipples,” he added enigmatically.

Immediately she put her hands over her breasts to hide them. Did he have to call attention to her deficiencies?

“Nay, do not cover such sweet assets,” he said.

“Do not attempt to sway me with false praise. I am perfectly aware that my breasts are too small, and the nipples too big.”

“Bre-anne!” he chided her. “Do you not see how much your breasts please me? All of you, in truth.”

As he moved her hands back to her side, she looked at his face. His blue eyes seemed lit by a sensuous flame, the long, sweeping lashes at half-mast. His nostrils flared, and his mouth parted, as if he was breathless.

Before she had a chance to anticipate his next move, he lifted her about the waist and set her on his lap, astraddle, her rump on his thighs, her female parts exposed to his scrutiny. She had to grasp his shoulders to keep from falling backward as he spread his thighs wider.

“Oh, this is so crude,” she complained, trying to escape.

He held her tight. “Love play is crude. And the best love play is hot and wet and loud and, yea, crude.”

She had no idea what he meant.

“Tell me true, Breanne, how do you feel?” His palms were stroking her thighs, from knee to groin, lightly, over and over.

“I tingle,” she confessed.

“Where?”

“My breasts and…and below.”

He nodded as if she had given the correct answer. “I tingle, too.”