Page 27 of Bound to the Orc Warlord

A shiver vibrates through me. I knew Dravarr had a good body—even clothes can’t hide it—but this…

Smooth green skin stretches taut over bulging swells of muscle. Even sitting, lines make a checkerboard of abs across his flat stomach. The rich smell of male and leather and pine teases my nose, and my mouth waters.

I want to lick him.

“Is there a problem?” he asks, his voice a deep rumble.

Oh, god. Heat flushes my cheeks. What did my face look like? Can he tell I ogled him?

“Nope!” I chirp. It’s not totally a lie. Him being gorgeous issonot a problem, except to my libido, which is already in overdrive from how close he’s been holding me these last couple of days. It’s been a while since I got busy with anyone, too. I stopped using the dating apps when I started at the charity, bothbecause I worked extra-long hours hoping to impress the bossandbecause of the promise implicit in Mr. Caprio’s flirting.

Stupid me.

Note to self: don’t assume the hot guy is into you from hints. You freaking suck at hints, Ashley.

And boy, do I need the reminder right now, because Dravarr’s the most attractive man I’ve ever seen.

My hands tremble a little as I slide his shirt from his good shoulder, his skin hot and smooth and oh so tempting. He’s so much bigger than me that I have to scooch higher until his knees grip my hips and I’m leaning over him.

The fabric finally loses its grip on his thick upper arm and falls abruptly, and I topple into him, my breasts against his chest, my face pressed into the join of his neck and shoulder.

His scent fills my world, and my lips move over his skin before I can stop them. My heart races, my core swirling with tingling warmth. I freeze, held there for stretched seconds.

“Are you hurt? Can you not move?” His voice comes out ragged and hoarse, and I jolt backward in a confused mixture of embarrassment and arousal that he caught me freakingnuzzlinghim.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Dravarr

The ache of my shoulder is only outdone by the ache of my cock as Ashley’s sweet mouth touches me.

Her breaths feather across my skin in a tease of sensation, her sunset hair tickling my nose. The soft fullness of her breasts touching my chest shreds my control.

I breathe her in, sunshine and flowers and female. My cock jerks against the confines of my pants, the stud mounted at the base on top reacting to her nearness. It begins to move, the magic within it ready to become whatever pleases her most.

I ball my good hand into a fist to keep from dragging her down to the ground underneath me like an animal in rut.

But goddess knows, I want to.

“Are you hurt?” I force the words out, attempting to pretend a layer of civility the most primal part of me longs to ignore. “Can you not move?”

She jerks away from me like someone yanking a burned hand from a fire. Can she tell how aroused I am? Does it horrify her?

In the past, I’ve never had the time and patience for the sweetness some females expect. My couplings had been hard and fast, a mutual release of tensions with no complications. I don’t want things to be that way with Ashley. Even if she’s not the warrior I hoped for, she’s still my moon bound, still gifted by the goddess.

Still my bride.

“Your shoulder,” she says, not meeting my eyes. But her hands are so very gentle as they try to peel the loose fabric of my shirt from my injured shoulder.

When I wince, she grimaces, her nose scrunching up in the most adorable way. Then she turns and leans down to pick up the waterskin. “The cloth’s dried to the wounds. I’m going to see if wetting it helps.”

I simply nod. It’s more care than I would take for myself, but who am I to gainsay her? It’s rather nice to have someone tend to me.

The water splashes cool over the area, darkening the fabric. My bride leans close, all of her attention on my shoulder as she starts to work the cloth from me.

I grind my teeth together and lock my muscles rigid to hide any pain. The injury must be tended to, and there’s no reason to make her feel bad about doing so.

Instead, I focus on her, using her distraction to study her at will. My attention bounces between the way her nose crinkles when she’s concentrating, the moue of her pink lips, and the fascinating little orange-brown dots that decorate her skin.

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