Page 52 of Valkyrie Confused

“I should stop.” But he doesn’t get up.

Taking the pillow with me to prevent a nip-slip incident, I roll over and sit up. “Only if you really want to.”

“I don’t.” He digs his hand in my hair and leans so close, our foreheads are almost touching.

I close the rest of the distance, to press my lips to his.

He’s as still as a statue. Did I fuck up? I was sure he wanted to kiss me.

But then he’s nibbling on my lips, his tongue seeking entrance. I suck it in, and he growls. It’s primal. Lethal. Irresistible.

He drops his hands to my hips and pulls me on top of him, to straddle him. The pillow falls, but I don’t care, as he devours my mouth, clutching at my back and pressing me into him.

I rock my hips against his erection. I need to feel more of him, and there’s a lot to feel. I break our kiss and hold his gaze as I lean back, bunch his shirt in my hands, and rip it open, buttons flying to the floor.

A silver disk hangs from leather around his throat. The rune on it looks like an angular, upside-down version of the small Greek letterγ—gamma. Or maybe a primitive sketch of a fish? I’ll ask about it later. Now I flatten my palms against his chest. Feel the short, coarse hair tickle my skin. I trace the tattoo of a tree over his heart. What does it mean?

I’ll ask about that later, too.

I caress his abs. Reach his belt. Undo it.

Before I can do more, he palms one breast and kneads. Pinches the nipple harder than I’m used to.

It feels so fucking good.

Will feel even better when he’s inside me.

The certainty gets me moving again. I slide my ass toward his knees so I can free his cock. I love how he hisses when I roll my palm over the tip.

I wrap my palm around him. He’s long and thick, and my fingers don’t meet.

I glide my hand to the base of his cock, and he pushes into my fist with a growl. “Scarlett…”

“Do you think Pan will mind? If we…?” I don’t finish my question, but my stupid mouth has already gone and fucked it all up.

Arnlaug sighs. “He won’t. He won’t mind at all.” He clasps my wrist and moves my hand away from his cock before helping me to my feet.

He stands and towers over me from a second, a storm brewing in his eyes as he buttons his fly. “Goodnight, Scarlett.”

He’s gone, and I’m left stunned, topless, and horny as all Hell.

What the fuck just happened?

SEVENTEEN

ARNLAUG

In my dreams,I don't run out of Scarlett’s bedroom like a coward.

In my dreams, I hold her. I touch her. Map her body with my mouth.

In my dreams, I take her, until we're both out of breath. Sweat drips between her breasts that undulate as she rides me.

I lick the hollow of her neck and taste her. Nibble on the skin and feel her nipple pucker against my palm as her body shivers.

In my dreams, I claim her.

I wake up drenched in sweat and seek solace and pleasure in Pan, who's happy to provide both without asking questions. But the dreams won't leave my mind, even as he's sinking into my body or I'm pushing into him. Scarlett's scent is in my nostrils, intoxicating and potent, as I exchange fervent, punishing kisses with the only man, the only god, the only person I've ever loved.

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