“You don’t need to wonder, as you will never be without me.”
“No. You’re mine. So, come, let’s go get married.”
18
“My wife. Finally.”
“My husband. At last.”
Heat started to suffuse Aife’s body at the idea of what was about to happen. It seemed as if her whole life had led up to that moment, and in a way, it had. She had known this man from birth, he’d been a constant companion, by her side in good and bad moments. Until he had become something even more precious than a friend and far more special than a lover.
A beloved husband.
After a moving ceremony during which Torsten had proudly carried his father’s sword and a feast that had gone long into the night, they had retired to her hut, which was now to be their hut. In the flickering light of the fire, they stared at one another in wonder for a long moment, as if wary of breaking the spell, as if fearing that the last few weeks had been naught but a dream. It had not. The love in Torsten’s eyes made that clear, and the heat between her legs gave her the nudge she needed to make the first move.
“Torsten—”
“Yes. Will you undress for me?” he started at the same time, speaking in a hoarse whisper.
“Only if you undress for me.”
Having simple garments to dispose of, Torsten was naked in the blink of an eye. Naked and magnificent. Was there another man on this earth who could compete with him? Forget Knut’s bulging biceps, Sven’s muscular shoulders, Steinar’s broad chest, or Haakon’s chiselled stomach.Thiswas what beauty was. And it was hers to admire and to stroke.
But Torsten made no move to go to her. Shadows cast by the flames danced on his skin as if to encourage her fingers to do the same. She would have done that and more if he’d come closer. But he remained two paces away from her, waiting. The fire crackled and popped, shaking her back into action. It seemed it was her turn to disrobe. Lost to her contemplation, she had completely forgotten she was supposed to get naked as well.
Feeling slightly self-conscious, but far too aroused to deny him, Aife unhooked the brooches holding her dress in place and let it pool at her feet. The shift of fine linen soon followed, then the woolen stockings and shoes. As naked as the day she was born, she stood there, watching him while he devoured her with his gaze.
“Perfection,” he murmured, closing the space between them just like he had the night she’d been born. She could not resist grabbing his little finger and tears stung her eyes when he brought her hand to his mouth to kiss it reverently.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.” His eyes had darkened with desire. “Lie down for me.”
Aife understood how much it would cost him to ask this of her. She knew this was what he feared. But if he was nervous, he hid it well. True, in the Roman palace, he had touched her while she guided him, but he had not really seen her. She had not beennaked and sprawled on the bed, waiting for him to possess her, like the other women he’d tried to bed. There had been nothing to remind him of his past trauma. How would he cope tonight? There was only one way of knowing.
Slowly, she sat on the pallet, and then lay on her back.
“I have regretted not baring your breasts that night in the ruins,” Torsten rasped, coming to kneel by her side. “Baring and stroking and suckling them. I swore to myself I would look my fill before devouring every inch of you if I ever got you in my arms again.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” Why was he torturing her so? Surely he had just looked his fill? Being devoured sounded like something she would enjoy. “Eat me. Eat me as if I were covered in honey.”
With a groan, he fell on her. The sensations were nothing like what she experienced in her life. Having a hot mouth engulfing her aching nipples and a wicked tongue licking them into peaks then rolling them around in slow, delicious flicks was exquisite. For a long moment, Torsten suckled her, moaning, seemingly taking as much pleasure in the act as she was. But of course, it was the first time for him also, and he was making the most of this new experience. Aife could not stop panting and writhing. Knowing she was the first woman he had stroked thus only added to her pleasure.
She closed her eyes and just allowed herself to be worshipped, holding on to his head and whispering words of encouragement.
Then a hand landed on her knee. “Can I?” Torsten asked, lifting her head from her breasts to meet her gaze. His lips were as wet and swollen as her nipples. The mere sight was enough to send her core into spasms. “I want to see you, see this part of you no one else has ever seen.”
“Yes. And no other man than you will ever see it.”
His other hand landed on her left knee. “Open for me. Please.”
When she nodded, he started to ease her legs apart. Once she had bared herself to his gaze, Torsten positioned himself between her thighs and lay down on his stomach, his face inches away from her burning core. Slowly he parted her folds with his thumbs. Aife was holding her breath. How had she not predicted that she would feel exposed in that position? Exposed and aroused? Utterly powerful. Determined to watch as he explored her, she lifted herself up onto her elbows.
“So beautiful.”
Well, she had no precise idea of what he could see. Was it beautiful? The expression on his face seemed to suggest he was not lying. She had been afraid he would be reminded of the women who had bared themselves for him, for surely they could not have looked very different. But he didn’t seem to be thinking about them, or anyone else in that moment. His attention was wholly on her.
“Can I stroke you?”
