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“Who is there?”
Ivar’s voice called out from where he lay under the heavy fabrics of the soft bed. The room was dimly lit by a stand of candles flickering beside a tall bureau but he could still see the heavy door open and then close without anyone stepping in. Waiting, with his breath held, he listened for the sound of movement beyond in the corridor. Nothing… but the same chiming music that had floated through the city every evening since being dragged to the kingdom of the Kievan Rus.
Pushing his fists into the mattress, he rose to look beyond the foot of the bed. Flinching, he saw a dark form kneeling on the tile floor. His eyes shot wide and the sensation of cold pricked the skin of his cheeks. Instinctively, he flung his arm to the table beside the bed, his hand reaching for an ax that his startled mind forgot would not be there.
With movements like a strutting cat, the dark form slinked toward the bed on hands and knees. The outline of dark hair around a pale face was first to catch the light. Ivar’s thoughts raced, assessing the degree of threat. His eyes scanned the near empty room, searching for a makeshift weapon, quickly realizing strangulation was his only option.
As she crawled into the glow of thrown light, Ivar finally saw her. Scarcely clothed in a dark scant slip, the hanging neckline allowed a glimpse of dark nipples, muted in shadow, on small perfect breasts. She looked stunning, wickedly angelic like a demon might seconds before stealing your last breath. Long brown hair, falling in waves around a face of mostly cheekbones and lips. In the dim room, it was impossible to make out the colour of her almond-shaped eyes but nothing about her put him at ease.
“What do you want?” he demanded, his voiced sounding stressed. “Who are you?” he spoke again in a deeper voice.
“A gift, King Ivar, from the prince.”
Caught off guard for the second time, he frowned, hearing her speak his language with only the slightest accent.
“Go. I do not wish to be disturbed.”
He could tell by her coy smirk, sitting back tall on her knees, that she was unaccustomed to being refused.
“What would I be disturbing you from King Ivar? You hardly require beauty sleep.”
“I said go! I will not be touched by a slave.”
Tutting at him, she subtly shook her head. “Norway must be an opulent country if I am what the slaves of your kingdom look like.” Lifting her arms to either side, she put herself on display. “Do I look like a slave to you?”
Raising his chin, his eyes roamed her body; her breasts, still barely covered by the silk shift. Dropping his gaze lower when she placed her hands flat on the tops of her knees, sliding the hem up to show her parted thighs.
He snapped his eyes back to hers before he could make out the darkness between her legs. “Then who are you?”
“I am Oleg’s.”
“You address him as Oleg?”
“Why would I not?” she replied in a calm voice, eyeing him from under her brow.
“Who are you then? One of his concubines?”
“Ahna.” Undeterred by his stern face, she offered another crumb. “I am the only woman in his life. He shares me with no one. Men are not permitted to even look so I wonder if he will feel slighted by you turning me away?” Tilting her head, she squinted as if still spinning a thought. “For two months you have been the source of his every conversation.”
“I do not need you to pleasure me?”
“That is fine, you can pleasure me.”
Ivar’s head shot back, cracking into the headboard. Relieved the faint light would not reveal his reddening cheeks, he quietly cleared his throat.
“I will not.”
“Will not…. what?” she tipped her head forward as if straining to hear.
“Lie with you.” Ivar cleared his throat again. Fuck, he hated this. He was a king and now he lay, locked in a strange room, armed with only his spite. Who did these people think they were?
“Are you a virgin Ivar the Boneless?”
Scowling at that, he nearly growled.
“I am a cripple.” He motioned toward his lower half with the flip of his hand.
“But you talk?”
Jerking his head, a piece of his pulled back hair fell loose across his forehead. “And?” he snapped, smoothing his hair back with frustration.
“Your tongue works,” she smiled, falling forward onto her hands, smoothly crawling toward him.
Ivar’s eyes flashed wide as she made her way, slipping out of sight below the foot of the bed. Darting his head to either side, he tried to track her movements. Popping up on his right, she rose swiftly and turned to sit on the edge of the mattress; eyeing him for the first time without a smile. Still like stone, Ivar lay under her scrutiny. This woman had savvy, he thought, taking in the way, scarcely clothed, she sat on his bed as if it were her throne. She must have influence, he decided, as no simple woman could so easily own a room.
“Oleg will want to know how it felt being touched by a god. He was so….. what is the word… insistent that I thought he might join us.” Raising her brows, her full lips pulled into an easy smile. “I can call him if you would prefer a man.”
“No!” Ivar sat forward, clearing his throat for the third time. “That will not be necessary,” he paused for a split second trying to recall her name. “Ahna, is it?”
Nodding once, her eyes dropped from his face and scanned his covered body.
“I saw you with him. With Oleg. I watched the two of you outside the gates playing like silly boys. It has been a long time since I have seen him so enthused. I think he has grand plans for you.”
Working to keep his mind calm, Ivar listened.
“I think you are an exceptional man,” she simpered. “Well,” her posture softened. “I will retire then and let Oleg know I was not to your… liking.”
“Wait,” he leaned forward grabbing her wrist.
Glancing down at his hand, she looked back up, playfulness returning to her eyes.
“We could talk… for a while, yes?” Ivar asked hating the way his voice cracked.
“You will have to share your covers, I am sitting here,” she glanced down her front, “barely clothed.”
Slowly nodding, he shifted over, watching her move off the bed and turn to him. He held the blanket up for her to slide in.
The idea of having a conversation with her did not sit right. Feeling unprepared, he hated everything about the situation. Nearly everything; he was still a man who loved coveted things. He was not certain whether it was her confidence or beauty that had him invite her in or the fact that the prince had chosen to share. More likely, if he was honest with himself, he feared both losing face and offending Oleg. He was impulsive and dangerous and without him, Ivar knew he would be in the street no different than any other broken man.
Lying on his back with his hands resting on his chest, the smell of her skin sailed over to him. Without thinking, he inhaled loudly, causing her to smile as he chased her scent of muted spice and lavender. Gods, this world was different from home and he suspected that this woman could somehow sense his thoughts.
This was not his first experience with a woman in his bed. He could never forget his duplicitous wife. She had a sideways smile and had been betraying him all along. Over the year of their marriage, he had not truly been a husband though, never allowing her to lie with him skin to skin. As a young man, he had patched his pride with rage and made the decision avoiding affection was better than failing. Even declining the attractive thralls despite them being far more dispensable than his late queen. The truth was the interest was not there and how much satisfaction could pleasing a woman bring him. Gods this Ahna smelt good, he thought again, deciding her visit may be tolerable.
Sliding further down on his pillow, he chanced a glance noting how intriguing she was to look at. There was an atmosphere of wealth around her even while wearing a simple dress. Looking into her dark eyes, he could see that this woman was comfortable and obviously biding her time. Of course, she was beautiful, stunning in fact, but she must have intelligence to stay alive with the prince.
What is that slippery material she wears, he wondered, glancing back over to her? Remaining casually in place, she seemed to enjoy his curious eyes, sweeping across her chest.
What a fascinating shaped mouth, he thought, as his eyes mapped her face. Her lips were perfectly symmetrical and appeared frightfully soft. Maybe he would have a taste after all. She was already there and far from a worn-out thrall she was spectacular.
The room was beginning to feel hot. Grunting under his breath, he resisted throwing the covers off them.
“Ivar?”
King Ivar to you he wanted to bark, realizing his eyes had drifted back to the swell of her breasts.
“Ivar?”
“Hmm?” he looked up to her as she lay with her head propped on her hand. He wondered if she had to practice looking so captivating.
“If you do not speak, how is it that you have bewitched Oleg?”
Rude, he thought. “I have done nothing like that.”
“Really,” she smiled showing her white teeth.
“Ivar?”
“Stop calling me that?”
Lifting her brows, she was clearly amused by his outburst. This was a bad idea, he worried, sighing softly. These people were infuriating. They feared nothing.
“This is unfair,” she smiled, narrowing her eyes.
He looked over to her confused.
“Even when you are angry, you are pretty.”
“Pretty!” he rushed.
“Perhaps, this is not the right word,” she grinned, batting her eyes. “Handsome, striking, attractive, do I need to go on?”
Narrowing his own eyes at her, his expression simmered. “Yes,” he nodded, still wishing the covers did not feel so confining. “Continue.”
Laughing quietly, she leaned closer. “Alright,” her face now serious. “Powerful, brutal, ravishing.”
“Ravishing?” he asked unable to keep from cracking a smile.
Shifting her body on the bed, she lifted her knee, sliding her leg over his hips. Resting her free hand on his stomach, she appeared undeterred by his sharp intake of breath.
“Shall I go on?” she whispered, glancing down at his mouth.
“No, I am satisfied with what you have said.”
“That is a relief,” she giggled again.
Lifting his arm, he tucked it below her pillow. Shimmying closer, she settled her cheek onto the beige tunic he had worn to bed.
Even her hair smelt good, he noticed, dipping his nose down to the top of her head, his eyes not missing the muted light reflecting from it. These crafty women, he silently remarked, nearly scoffing to himself.
“Ivar?” her voice tickled his skin.
“Hmm.”
“Oleg is going to use the army to take back your kingdom.”
Hearing this admission, he tensed, thinking of how he might goad her to keep talking.
“I doubt you have the influence over Oleg for him to discuss such secrets.”
Lifting her head, she strained her eyes up to look at him. “It is no secret. He is going to attack your home. By sea and land. He was told that it rests on the bay between three hills and plans on having ships built that travel over the ground.”
Looking down at her skeptically, his brows spiked high.
“Yes,” she smiled, “the wicked man is having wheels placed on ships and will run them down the hills into the walls of the city.” Snickering softly, she shook her head before laying back down on his chest. “God, I wish I could come, I would love to see that. But,” she tipped her eyes back up to him, “what I want to see more is you sitting on your throne. Oleg will make you a king again, Ivar, but he wants control. Take great care that he never feels outdone by you.”
“Why would I need your advice?”
“There is no one in this kingdom, or any other, who knows him like I do.”
“How long have you known him?”
“All my life. We grew up together. I am telling you this because I care about him. He is easily misunderstood. And…,” she paused searching for the words, “I cannot escape the feeling that you will change our lives.”
“Whose?”
“Everyone’s.”
Silence settled over them as they lay with their own thoughts. Ivar pondering the meaning behind her words. The future feeling more unknown to him than before she entered his room.
“But,” snapping from her daze, she rolled onto her tummy, propping herself up on her elbows. “What do I know? I am a mere slave,” she grinned so wide, her eyes nearly closed.
Grunting in response, his gaze jumped between each of her eyes and without thinking, he pulled both arms free wrapping them around her. His palms settling at the curve of her lower back. Focussing his bright blue eyes, he studied her face, wondering how it would feel to press his mouth to hers. Her smile faded and her expression told him she knew what he was thinking.
“Just one,” he uttered quietly tipping his head toward her.
Their mouths met and their lips pressed softly together. With the slightest sigh, his body relaxed, and he gently pushed his tongue forward. Fuck, he thought, widening the kiss. Her scent and skin, her warm breath all felt so sweet, so much so, for the moment he chose to ignore the lie he suspected she had told him.
His curious mouth pushed the pace and he slid both hands over the round of her bottom. The sleek material of her dark slip made his touch heavy and eager. Breaking the kiss, they stared at each other before she pushed up and straddled him. Lowering her mouth back to his, their kissing resumed more urgently.
It would have been at this point, in a previous life that he would have pulled back and tapped her leg to climb off. Yet she had a way of looking at him, that made him want to run his mouth all over her.
“Take this off,” she muttered, tugging the neck of his tunic. His body froze and she pulled back, rubbing her nose to his. “Just your shirt.” Pressing her lips to his ear, she tugged his lobe with her teeth. “I want to feel your skin on mine.”
Sitting up, she swept her dark brown hair over one shoulder, its long length cascading down one side. The thin strap of her shift slipped and the material caught just above her nipple. Never taking his eyes off hers, he sprung forward, pulling the shirt off his back, tossing it onto the tile floor. Sliding his hands under the silky material, his palms skimmed and rubbed circles up her thighs. At his touch, Ahna sighed, causing Ivar’s eyes to widen. Grinding her pelvis down gently, she spread her knees wider.
Everything about the sounds she was making told Ivar she was his to do with what he wanted. His eyes lit up and he withdrew his hands, bringing them to her chest, rubbing and squeezing both of her breasts. Tugging her nightgown down, his eyes nearly bulged seeing her perfect body. Even more beautiful than he first thought, he clutched one of her small breasts, pushing his other hand hastily back up her slip.
His fingers skimmed up to her core but feeling her velvety folds had him stop, pulling his mouth away. Utter bewilderment caused his face to twist and she had to bite her lip to stifle her laughter.
“It is the fashion here.”
“Huh?” his eyes dropped and he stared at the space between her legs. His fingers creeping over the area, unable to get their bearings.
“The hair is cut close to the skin,” she said, “like the sides of your head. I will show you.” Raising an arm, she swiftly whipped off her dress.
Dropping his gaze back down to her core, he was not entirely sure what he was feeling. Between her smooth thighs, he could see the details of her womanhood as if she was a young child. By the gods, he screamed inside his head, running his thumb across the curve of her shaved mound. They parted easily from her wetness and he knew there was a spot to find somewhere there. Fuck, he thought again, as he spread her lips wider. His mind racing, wondering what it might feel like to have his mouth on her. He knew his thumb and grazed that little point when she dropped her head back and whined. Immediately, he bucked his hips, surprising himself.
“Kiss me, Ivar.”
Collapsing forward, their mouths met with force. She whimpered from the feeling of her sensitive nipples rubbing against his chest. Spreading her thighs as wide as she could, she tipped her hips forward, grinding down onto his bulging grown. She gasped right into his mouth when he reached around her hip, touching her from behind.
Grabbing her head with his other hand, he pulled her back and snarled, “You are wet for me!”
Nodding, she rolled her hips causing Ivar to moan. The amount of her slick, made him grunt like an animal and he too started rocking his hips, his fingers working the notch of skin between her folds.
“You like that?” he tugged her hair, pressing his mouth against her jaw. “When I play with you?”
“Pleeeeease Ivar,” she whimpered.
A prickling heat pooled in his crotch causing him to hiss through his teeth. The tips of his two fingers slipped faster between her folds making her arch her back.
“God,” she cried and he stared in awe, amazed that he was the one causing her pleasure. Lifting his head, he claimed her mouth again, feeling as if he was on the verge of losing himself. His lips grew greedy and he grabbed her neck, shoving his tongue deep into her mouth.
“I want to taste your cunt,” he growled, barely letting her breathe, moving his tongue as if he was already between her legs. “You want my mouth on you, hmm? You want to get fucked by my tongue?”
Responding only with a breathy sound, Ivar grinned feeling her readiness through his pants. He had never had a woman trembling from his touch. Had never been desired by anyone so perfect. As his eyes drank in every detail of her form, he grabbed her hips, guiding her to crawl over his face. When she looked down and their eyes met again he knew by the way she smiled that he was failing at hiding his nervousness. Grabbing the headboard to steady herself, she moved her impeccable sex over him. Bright and round, his eyes stared at her, almost mesmerized.
Grabbing her ass and pulling her closer, he inhaled wanting more of her scent. Pressing kisses up the inside of her thighs, he paused before pushing his tongue inside her. The heat of her sex matched his own hot breath and her wetness and flavour made his own desire rush. Like a strike of need, he jerked his hips and began running his tongue along her silky slit. Reaching a hand forward, he used his fingers to spread her folds further apart.
Sucking and licking her smooth, slick cunt, he stared up watching her beautiful face flush. Ahna’s mouth fell open and her head dropped forward, her flawless breasts heaved with her breathing. Watching her mew from his hungry mouth he again found himself awestruck. Every part of his body felt awake and he never again wanted to think of any other woman.
His mouth became frenzied, sucking her frills, he shook his head side to side, hungry for her taste. Finding her clit, her entire body twitched, he laved it like a lion before flicking his tongue on her tiny nub.
Ahna gasped as she rushed out foreign words, Ivar recognized little of her language. Tightening her grip on the headboard, the muscles in her stomach and legs began shaking. Darting his tongue around her clit, he alternated suction and pulling her flesh.
“Yes!” he cried. “Just like….,” her voice faded into a whine.
Gods, he loved this power over her body, thinking it was almost worth suffocating. Growing bolder, he reached up and pushed a finger slowly inside.
“Oh my god,” she gasped, throwing back her head.
The sound of her moans unhinged Ivar’s need, his finger pushed deeper and his mouth and tongue worked faster.
“I can’t…” she whimpered trying to raise her hips but Ivar stopped her with his arm, bracing her in place. “Ivar!” she pleaded, whimpering.
Tensing, she lurched against his hold, squeezing her eyes closed. The volume of her cries dropped softer and he could feel her womb around his finger, pulse and tighten. Pulling his mouth away, he reached up and ran his hand across her breasts, stroking her smooth tummy before settling his palm on her hip.
Her sounds simmered and her breathing slowed. Ivar stayed in place wanting to catch every moment. It was the sound of nothing in the quiet room that brought his mind back to where they were.
“Fuck!” he growled looking at her pussy as she shimmied back down, collapsing onto his chest. So distracted by the feeling of her body that his hard straining cock did not catch his attention.
“Ahna.”
“Mmm,” was her only reply. She lay face down on his pillow, her forehead against his jaw.
The hardest word for him to say burst out before he could stop himself. “Stay.”
No sound came from her other than her steady breathing.
“Yes?” he prodded, running his hands up her slender back. “Will you stay with me?” he asked already upset that she was not his to keep.
“I must go,” she nuzzled her nose against his ear.
Staring at the ceiling, he could not help but feel rejected.
“I want to stay,” she slid further down his side, keeping one leg wrapped around him. He did not look over so she leaned close and kissed the side of his mouth.
“I need to wake in my own room. I will stay right here until you fall asleep. Yes?” she asked, trailing kisses over his cheek.
Dropping down, she planted one last kiss below his ear. Closing his eyes, he too felt tired but still, his mind was filled with a thousand revelations. With her scent and taste still raw in his mouth, he tightened his grip around her feeling, after all his suffering, she was what he deserved.
How could Oleg have shared such a woman, he asked himself, with no notion of the answer. Anger rushed through him, far from any feeling of appreciation. The realization struck him that he did not want to return her. In another life, another world, he wished they could have been important to each other. For now, he would enjoy just one last moment, lying with a goddess before she slipped back into the night.
—
“Sleep well? Oleg’s voice boomed through the dining room as he strode toward the seat at the head of the large table.
“Yes,” Ivar looked down with a waggish smile. “I believe I have you to thank….”
Raising his hand to silence Ivar, Oleg tilted his head in the direction of the heavy drapery blocking the entrance to the corridor.
“I hear her, my little cloud. She floats this way.”
Tipping his own ear, Ivar picked up the unmistakable cadence of her voice growing louder as she came toward the dining room.
Looking at Oleg, Ivar smiled with a wink, enjoying the camaraderie.
The curtain was pulled back by a servant and a radiant looking Ahna stepped in. Dressed in a fitted white gown, beaded with silver and pearls, her lips and cheeks were tinted with the faintest shade of pink. She looked like a goddess with her long wavy hair tied back loosely at the nape of her neck.
A brightness filled her eyes as she smiled at Ivar while stretching her arm out to Oleg. Up from his seat and moving toward her, he delicately took her hand in his, bowing as he kissed her knuckles. Raising their clasped hands, as if to present her, he turned back and looked to Ivar with pride.
“My baby sister, Ahna.”
Ivar’s eyes shot wide.
“I know!” Oleg remarked with excitement. “Does she not take your breath away?”
“She does.” Ivar swallowed with a nod. “Yes, she does.”
“She is the jewel of the Rus people. Full of surprises! With a brilliant mind and a bold heart. Her beauty, of course,” he lifted her hand higher, “greater than a stary night. But,” Oleg looked at Ivar, “do not let your gaze linger,” his smile faded.
“Or you will pay with your life,” Ahna added in a playful voice.
“Ahna!” Oleg scoffed, theatrically gaping his mouth. “You tell stories.”
“You killed Farshi and his only crime was watching me ride my new horse.”
Shaking his head, Oleg walked her to the table. Graciously, he pulled out a chair for her to sit across from Ivar.
“I simply removed his eyes, Ahna. It was the infection that took his life. Sister, you make me sound so…. cruel.”
The curtain opened again and Oleg’s swarthy looking general stepped in. A jerk of his head was his only message.
Slapping his hands together in a clap, Oleg, addressed them both. “There is a matter which requires my attention, please start without me. I will not be long. And Ahna,” he looked down at his sister. Do your best not to charm our guest.”
“I make no promises, Oleg,” she smiled at Ivar who was sitting with a tight face.
Softly touching the top of her shoulder, Oleg turned and walked with his man, disappearing as the curtain swung closed behind them. The footsteps of both men grew faint as they made their way down the long corridor.
“Ahna!” Ivar hissed.
“Oooh,” I like the way you say my name.”
“Stop it!” he spat.
“Or what?” she jabbed.
Picking up a table knife, he pointed it had her, leaning forward over his plate. “He never sent you to me, did he? Hmm?” Straining to keep his voice hushed, every feature in his face was pinched with anger.
“Of course he did not.” Her expression dropped.
Rolling his jaw, Ivar looked up to the ceiling.
“Ivar,” she whispered, leaning over her own plate.
“Do not call me that!”
“After everything we have shared?” The previous night’s look of mischief returned to her eyes.
“Are you trying to get my limbs ripped off?”
“I do not think it would be your limbs he would remove.” Straightening in her chair, she jerked her head at him. “Deep breaths Ivar, your behaviour is that of a puppet.”
Squinting his eyes, he pressed his lips together. “You are going to ruin my opportunities here.”
“Fear not, I have a plan.”
“You have a plan? You? No!” he snapped. “Oleg and I have plans. You and I have nothing.”
“That is what you think,” she replied casually. “Look,” picking up her cup, she took a sip before continuing. “Understand that I am twenty-two years old,” she articulated. “Oleg keeps me under his thumb and I am living out the world’s longest death. I need to get out into the world. I must!” she exasperated. “You are my access. I decided after weeks of spying on you and my brother. You are intelligent, obviously powerful and have the face of an angel. And…. you will be a king.”
“I am a king,” he slapped the table with his hand, rattling the dishes.
“My apologies,” she acquiesced, glancing behind to the door. “My brother is not the only one with plans for Kattegat. You will need a queen once you take back the throne,” she paused watching Ivar’s reaction, “and Oleg is infatuated with you. He might, just might, allow us to marry solidifying our alliance. Kattegat could be my dowry. You have no notion of what it is like feeling all the things a woman feels with no man willing to cross my brother and ….,“ she raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows to insinuate her meaning.
“What!” he rushed. “You are a virgin?” Grabbing the biscuit from the edge of his plate, he threw it, pelting her arm.
“Oww,” she glared at him picking up her own. “Yes! Thanks to you!” Hucking hers, she hit his plate of food spilling egg onto the table.
With flared nostrils, he stared at her, slowly nodding his head. “Yes, yes, yes,“ he spoke more to himself. ”I am going to tell Oleg. I will explain everything.” He knew before the words had passed his lips that it would be suicide. A thought occurred, “Does Oleg…. touch you?”
“No…. Wait, what!” she spat, her face contorting. “That is sickening, of course not. You Vikings are heathens.”
“I am a heathen and everyone here is fucking insane!”
“That is true,” her face steadied before she started to laugh. “He will be back soon. We will talk more tonight.”
“No, we will not. There will be no tonight.”
“You do not want to see me again?” she asked in a whisper, her hazel eyes softening. “I, myself, cannot stop thinking of last night… us together.” Looking down, Ivar saw the slightest flash of shyness flicker through her. Wetting her lips with her tongue, she looked back up. “I cannot stop imaging it. Your mouth on mine. Your mouth everywhere. God,” she glanced away for an instant. “I did not even bathe this morning. I wanted to keep your scent on me.” Lowering her chin, she gazed straight at him. “You are the most handsome man I have ever seen and I am afraid I am smitten.” No longer able to hold his stare, she looked down at the table, adjusting the cutlery.
His eyes burned into her, skipping between the pink border of her lips and the hopefulness in her eyes. She sat perfectly still but her shoulders showed the weight of uncertainty.
Her words describing how he made her feel echoed in his ears along with the sound of her whimpering his name. The memory of her smooth thighs and small breasts and slender neck forced him to close his eyes for a moment. Gods, she made him feel like he had just won a war. Like a king again, a God even. The truth was she had stirred his most broken parts but he had not been prepared to attempt to make love. There was so much more to her that in any other setting, he would be desperate to learn.
Blinking, he could not stop the smile that touched his mouth the moment she lifted her head locking eyes with him again. Instantly he was hit with the understanding that he never wanted her taste to fade.
They held each other’s stare as lovers do spying each other from across a room. The sound of Oleg’s abrupt voice brought them back to where they were. Clearing his throat, Ivar composed reaching for something, anything, on the table to hold in his restless hand.
Adjusting in her seat, she turned, glancing toward the covered corridor before looking to him with questioning eyes.
“One more night?” she smiled, tilting her head.
Gods, she was graceful, perfect and adorable.
“Fine.” Nodding his concession, he pointed a finger at her. “Just one.”