Page 79 of Ruthless Scoundrel
She shivers and the blue in her eyes sparkles brighter. She tucks one of her hands into the crook of my elbow and my breath escapes me in a rush. Her touch is insistent, but gentle. I loosen my arm some so she can snake in farther, and she does, pulling herself closer to my side.
“What’s this about, then?” I ask, knowing my stupid question might cause her to jerk away.
She hops a little to readjust her pack. “You didn’t tell me the cover story for our travels, so I’m making one up.”
“Which is?”
“We’re a young couple looking to start a special restaurant in the capitol, bringing Fynish delicacies to the south.”
My pulse quickens. “Oh? How long have we been married?”
“Two years.”
“That’s a long time for you not to be with child yet. Are you sure I’m performing all my husbandly duties?”
She glares up at me and her arm gets hotter against my side. “Perhaps you’re infertile.”
“I may very well be after what you did to me,” I grumble, remembering the pain of her searing hand against my balls. As a selkie, they’d be tucked up inside me, safe from predators like her.
“Poor baby,” she teases and—fuck—my dick is getting hard.
“Maybe we should prove to everyone tonight that I am indeed performing all my husbandly duties, just to be sure there’s no question.”
“In front of people?” She tries to pull away, but I hold onto her.
I lean down and whisper against her hair. “You screamed so loud that night on the beach, I doubt the people of the camp will miss it from the cover of our tent.”
“Vulgar bastard,” she snarls.
“Only for you,” I say, and why the fuck did I say that?
I stare ahead, not wanting to see the look on her face.
“Is that true? You were never…vulgar…with anyone else?”
I pull her tighter against my side. “Do you mean to ask if I’ve fucked anyone?”
She huffs loudly. “Forget I even entertained the question.”
“No, I haven’t.”
I can practically feel her scowl from the corner of my vision as she looks up at me. “Then, how did you…you know.”
I grin down at her. “Make you come?”
Her cheeks flare bright red, and she snaps her face to the right to hide it. “So vulgar.”
“If you think it was a fluke, we can try again.”
“In your dreams,” she grumbles, and I laugh.
The weight on my chest lightens, and we walk in silence for a while. Reina keeps hopping and adjusting her pack every few minutes, and the frequency increases as her pace slows. Finally, I grab the strap of her bag and hold it off her back.
“I can carry it,” she says, twisting away from me.
“Calm down,” I say, easily pulling her back in line. “I’m just giving your shoulders a little break.”
“I need to get used to being sore,” she says, still struggling to get out of my grip.
