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“Step forward with your right leg.”

Her muscles moved under his palms as she shifted her weight, and he wanted to trace the shape of her body.

No. Remove your hands, you oaf.

He moved with her.

“Bring the sword down,” he said.

She brought the sword down, dropped it to the grass, whirling to face him in a flash of golden hair and gray eyes, and her lips were on his.

She kissed him with softness and with heat, waking a whole whirlwind of fire in him, and he did not have the strength to stop. He picked her up, threw her over his shoulder like plunder, enjoying the feel of her gorgeous arse under his palm, and carried her into the house.

Maybe a forever with her was not in his destiny, but she wanted him now. And just for now, just for tonight, he could imagine that she was his, he was hers, and this was home.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Andor threw Cathy onto the bed, and the straw mattress was hard as she landed on her back, but she didn’t care. It got her even more turned on. He came at her as though there was no other option, as though she drew him with a force. Their eyes were locked, connected in a closed space where there was no one and nothing but them.

Andor stood at the edge of the bed, broad shouldered and narrow hipped, a bearded warrior with a familiar face and an unfamiliar soul. The aromas of woodsmoke and cooking stew mingled with the scent of Andor—all leather and iron and man—and Cathy dissolved in it, taking it all in, her body expanding beyond its borders.

She spread her arms to the sides, her fingers tracing the rough, prickly surface of the mattress, her body melting under Andor’s burning eyes as he followed her every move.

“Take off your clothes,” he said.

He sounded so possessive and bossy—and a surge of bliss spread through her. With shaking hands, she undid the belt of her tunic, her skin sensitive against the linen. She had to rid herself of it, needing Andor’s hands on her.

Then she took the edges of the tunic and drew it up and over her head, still wearing her spandex vest.

“That is one beautiful garment, but not as beautiful as you are. Off.”

Cathy bit her lip. The moment when Andor had seen her in the stream had nothing on this. If she thought he had wanted her then, now his eyes consumed her. She gripped the edges of the top and dragged it over her head. Warm air tingled her naked breasts, her nipples tightening into stiff peaks under Andor’s eyes. She tensed. He’d see her naked. Not from a distance like before, but up close. Every stretch mark, every ounce of fat, every fold. She closed her eyes, embarrassed and yet still aroused.

“Open your eyes,” he said. “See me.”

Cathy swallowed, gathered her strength and opened her eyes.

“Good,” he said and slowly undid his belt. Then off came his tunic, and a glorious feast of a Grade A man appeared before her.

Cathy’s mouth went dry at the sight. His shoulders were broad, bulging with muscles. His big and powerful pecs like flat hills. He had a narrow waist with a ripped stomach that tapered into a chiseled V of muscles above his low-hanging trousers. His arms were like tree trunks. His skin was covered with scars—some silver, some pink, and some fresh and red. A tattoo of a dragon breathing fire made in ornate Viking patterns covered his right side.

She wanted that glorious body to cover her, to glide against her, to wrap around her.

How could he be so perfect when she was a collection of unfortunate contradictions?

Andor lowered himself to the bed and stretched alongside her, his masculine scent making her mouth water. As his eyes crawled down her body, her skin burned everywhere his sizzling gaze touched. She arched her back, pushing her breasts out instinctively to make her waist thinner, just like every time she was naked in front of a man.

But he said, “You are too thin. No matter, you are beautiful in any form or shape.”

Her world shifted, and her head spun.

“These curves…” he murmured, tracing his rough finger down her breast, her stomach. She sucked it in, not because she wanted to appear smaller but because his touch spread waves of pleasure through her. His hand reached the edge of her trousers.

“Off,” he said, his voice deep and husky.

Cathy stared at him. Was she bold enough to remove the rest of her clothes in front of him? Her breath rushed in and out.

“I want you to take them off,” he said.