Sandra Hill - [Vikings II 04] (16 page)

“My fiancé died five years ago today,” she blurted out before she had a chance to bite her tongue.

He nodded, as if he understood … which he couldn’t possibly. “You told me earlier about the death of your betrothed … at the hands of terrorists, I believe. But I did not know that today marked the anniversary. In truth, my sister Madrene and I were discussing this very subject a short time ago.”

She frowned in confusion.

“The death of a loved one marks a person for life. The hurt and emptiness never really go away, despite the years. ’Tis an irony that I have been thinking so much about my brother this week. Betimes my heart aches with yearning for him.” He shrugged. “We shared the same father but different mothers. Born in far distant lands on almost the same day. Methinks we were heart-twins, if there is such a thing.”

Smiling, she remarked, “Your father was a busy man. Making babies in different countries at the same time.”

He smiled, too. “That he was. Thirteen children in all were born of his seed.”

“Thirteen!”

“What can I say? He was a very virile man.”

When he smiled at her the way he was right now, so tender and genuine, she simply melted. There was no other way to describe his effect on her. “And you? Would you like to have a big family someday, like your father?”

“Hah! I would prefer no children … or mayhap one, if the right woman came along. I know too well the chaos of a household full of squalling, squabbling brats. And I have changed my share of stinksome nappies to last a lifetime. Phew!”

“I can’t picture you cleaning a baby’s bottom.”

“Someone had to do it. Nursemaids kept quitting on my father all the time, and none of his wives or mistresses stuck around for long.”

A soldier with a gentle side. That is some tantalizing combination.
“You are really something,” she said.

“Yea, I am,” he agreed. “Now can we make love?”

She laughed and swatted him playfully.

“Tell me about your betrothed who died. What was he like?” Even as he asked the question, he twirled the curls surrounding her face around a forefinger. He seemed fascinated by her hair, which had always been the bane of her life. Red and frizzy. He seemed enthralled by it.

It took her a moment to recall his question. “David was good-looking, I suppose, though not outstandingly so.”

“Not as comely as me, eh?” He arched his eyebrows at her. Now his wicked fingers traced the line of bare skin from her neck over her shoulder and down to her wrist. That, too, seemed to fascinate him.

She swatted him again. “No, he wasn’t as good-looking as you, but he had a wonderful personality. Everyone liked him.”

“I am personable … when I choose to exert myself,” he said in a little-boy voice. As he spoke, his fingers tracked the neckline of her shirt … definitely not in a little-boy manner.

“And David had a wonderful sense of humor. We were always laughing when we were together.”

“That is one of the best things about us Norsemen. We know how to share a good jest, mostly at ourselves.”

I can see that by the mischievous gleam in your eyes. Laughing eyes, that’s what you have.
But they were talking about David, not Max, or at least they should be. “He was brave and loyal, especially to his country and his fellow SEALs. He probably would have been a lifer if he hadn’t been killed. A military career was all he ever wanted.”

“I am a warrior for life, too. Oh, I must needs run the family estate when I am home, but fighting is what I do. It is who I am.”

“Tsk-tsk-tsk! You asked me about David but keep talking about yourself.”

“And your lovemaking?” he inquired, ignoring her criticism.

She probably shouldn’t answer such an intimate question, but she did. “Excellent. We were very compatible, in and out of bed.”

His brow furrowed.

“Now what?”

“Methinks I am jealous of your lover, if that is what squeezes my heart so. I have never been jealous before, so I cannot be sure.”

“Jealous? Of a dead person?”

“I think of you as mine.”

Oh, good Lord, this guy is smooth.

“And when you speak of your continuing affection for this man, dead or alive, I feel threatened … nay, cheated … in some way,” he explained. “My grandmother, Lady Asgar, would have said I’ve finally met my destiny.”

There he goes with that destiny business again!
“You are so odd,” she said with a laugh.

“Good odd or bad odd?”

“Definitely good,” she admitted. “Look how you changed my tears to laughter.”

“Well, then, I must certainly deserve a reward.” He was stone-cold serious.

“And that would be?” She stiffened with suspicion.

“A kiss. That is all. A mere kiss.” And he was still serious.

Beware of men who take their kissing seriously.
“Hah! There is nothing mere about your kisses.”

“A compliment, sweetling? I do not know if my already bruised heart can take the shock.” He chuckled, even as his face lowered to hers.

She could have stopped him, but she didn’t want to. For the first time in a very long while, she wanted to forget rules and regulations, forget what was appropriate for the widow of a brave soldier, forget her reputation as a Navy doctor and daughter of a high military official. She wanted to be just Alison MacLean, woman. She wanted to live in the moment.

And she did.

He didn’t come on too strong. If he had, she probably would have panicked and shoved him away. Instead, he wet her lips with his tongue, then moved his mouth seductively over hers in a slick dance of persuasion. No words were spoken, but his kiss spoke for him. He teased and his kiss said,
So you think you can
resist me?
He nipped and it said,
So you think you can resist me?
He licked and it said,
So you think you can resist me?
He pressed and shaped and pressed and shaped and it said,
So you think you can resist me?

When she opened her mouth to him, he moaned, and, oh God, when did a man’s moan touch her so? Ever? Then he plunged inside her mouth, taking her to a whole other realm, and it said,
I cannot resist you.

Alison suckled his tongue reflexively.

He plundered her mouth with a sexual rhythm as old as time.

They both went wild then. His hands were everywhere. Her hands were everywhere. He was on top of her again. But, no, that wasn’t good enough. She shoved at him, rolling him over on his back. Then she was on top of him. And it felt so damndamndamn good.

She lifted her head and smiled down at him. “You taste like chocolate.”

His blue eyes glazed over with passion. His mouth was puffy and wet with passion. He looked as if he couldn’t speak. She probably looked the same.

“You taste like woman,” he said finally in a hoarse whisper.

“Is that good?”

“Oh, sweetling, that is exceedingly good.”

He combed his fingers through her hair and pulled her down for another kiss. While her mind focused on his kiss, his hands made quick work of pulling her tank top out of her jeans. She sat up again, astraddle him, to help him get the garment up and over her head.

Then he just stared at her, wide-eyed with dismay, not appreciation. He must be disappointed in her
small breasts. She tried to climb off him and slink away in embarrassment, but he held her firmly by the waist.

“What is that?” he asked, nodding his head toward her breast region. “A chastity belt for the bosom?”

“Huh?” Only then did she realize that it was her nude lace bra, not her breasts, that were causing his dismay. “Don’t be silly. It’s just a bra … an undergarment.”

“Does it come off?”

“Oh, please! A man of your experience should be able to take this off one-handed.”

He just continued to stare at her with dismay.

While he watched, she undid the front catch and shrugged out of the garment. The confusion left his face, replaced by pure male appreciation.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

“No, I’m not. I’m too small. Big breasts are—”

He put a forefinger to her lips to hush her protests. “I always thought I favored big-bosomed women, but it was a cruel jest the god Loki was playing on me all those years. Little did I know I was just waiting for you. You are perfect. You are the fulfillment of all my fantasies. How could I have been so blind?”

He shaped her breasts from underneath. They barely filled half of his big hands. Then he flicked the nipples with his thumbs till they budded with sheer joy.

Alison almost swooned at the pleasure that shot out in erotic ripples from his fingertips to every part of her body, especially between her legs, where hot liquid pooled. The ache he created there and throughout her body was so pleasurable it was almost painful in
its intensity. Never, never, never had she been aroused so quickly.

“Help me,” he said as he attempted to undo the snap on her jeans.

She laughed and rolled over onto her back beside him. There was no way anyone would get these tight jeans off unless she was in a prone position. While she undid the pants and pulled down the zipper, he moved to her feet and yanked off her boots. All she wore now was a pair of nude lace bikini underpants, which he eyed with parted lips.

Just before he reached for them, she said, “No. It’s your turn now. I want to see you, too.”

He smiled with supreme male confidence in his body, which he knew she would like. At any other time, she would have liked to hit him upside the head for his arrogance. Now, she just wanted him to hurry up. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he removed his shoes and socks, then stood and shucked his shirt, jeans, and Navy issue briefs. All in record time.

He stood before her for several long moments, allowing her to look her fill. He was very tall … about six-foot-four, she would guess. His head was almost bald thanks to the SEALs training haircut, but not unattractive since he had a nicely shaped head and a devastatingly handsome face. Black lashes framed compelling blue eyes. A straight nose. Full, well-defined lips. Straight white teeth.

But it was his body that caused her heart to race. He had broad shoulders and muscles everywhere, though not in a bulked-up weight-lifter way. And the erection that stood out from his center was either a
compliment to him or to her; either way, it was impressive. And he knew it.

When she arched an eyebrow at him, he shrugged. “I told you that I have my enthusiasm back, sweetling. Aren’t you glad?”

“Oh, yeah!”

“Now you,” he demanded. “Stand so I can see all of you. And take off that scrap of nothing. Though it is very enticing, I suspect I am enticed enough and soon may embarrass myself like an untried youthling if I get enticed any more than I already am.”

With that rambling discourse which amounted to “Hurry up, babe, I’m horny as hell,” which should have repulsed her but didn’t, she slid off the bed and stood for him, stepping out of her panties. She stood at the bottom of the bed while he stood at the side. She couldn’t remember a time in her life when she’d been so unafraid of showing off her body with all its imperfections.

“You know, Max, I’m just as likely to embarrass myself if you don’t get on with this,” she said with uncharacteristic brashness.

At first he frowned, but once her words sank in, he smiled.

New World swiving, compared to Old World swiving … no comparison!

Ragnor looked and looked and looked at Alison’s nude body. Then he looked again. He even walked over to her and circled her body, viewing it from all angles. He didn’t touch her. Just looked.

She wore only the gold hoop ear ornaments, which was curiously erotic. Her legs and underarms were hairless.

She was taller than most women and big-boned, her shoulders broader than usual for a female because of all her exercise. Muscles sculpted her upper arms, her back, her thighs and calves, even her buttocks. But she was not all hardness everywhere. He knew from his recent touch that her small breasts were soft, and her belly would be, too. Not to mention her woman folds. For a certainty, there would be
softness there … plus muscles, he hoped, imagining how they could grasp his manpart. In essence, she was built like no other woman in his experience, and he had seen plenty.

As an added benefit, not that he needed extras, her nether hair was red, too. He smiled. Ever did he favor red-haired women, especially when they were red all over.

For a brief second, he thought of his brother Torolf. How Ragnor would love to regale him with tales of this human goddess he had found! How he would boast that his woman—
and, yea, he thought of her as his woman
—was the best in all the lands. Torolf no doubt frolicked with his blond Valkyries in the other world, but Ragnor could not be envious when he had such a flaming beauty of his own.

“You remind me of those warrior goddesses that legends speak of in my land.”

Her body stiffened with affront.

Why is it that women are so sensitive about their bodies? It is true in every land where I have traveled. Do we men ask if our teeth are yellow, or our buttocks too fat, or our armpits too stinksome? Nay, we are confident in ourselves.
“That is a compliment, dearling.”

Her body relaxed, but only slightly.

Perchance she needs another compliment or two. I can do that.
“Methinks you would give as well as you got in the bedsport,” he observed, continuing to scrutinize her myriad muscles.

“You better believe it, buster, but I’m beginning to think you’re all flash and no substance, with all this dawdling.”

So much for compliments! Hmmm. She thinks to direct
this loveplay, does she? I think not!
“Not dawdling,” he corrected her. “Savoring.”
Bloody hell, I am good.

“Savoring?”

“Anticipating the reward to come.”
Very good! How do I come up with this stuff?
“Do you not engage in foresport in your land.”

“Foreplay? This is your idea of foreplay?” She laughed.

Is she laughing at me? She’d better not be. She is probably just happy that she is about to be the recipient of my lovemaking. I hope.
“Yea, ’tis foresport, as I said. Do you not tingle, even a tiny bit?”