My palm glided between her rising breasts, resting over her heart. The beat was erratic, fierce, heavy. I pressed her into me. “Because this frenzy in your heart has made mine do the same.”
A softgodsfell over her tongue.
Skadi let her eyes close, but rested her palm over my wrist, then nimbly guided my hand to one side, until I covered her breast.
A rough, agonized sound tore from my chest. I let my forehead fall to her shoulder, tightening my grip, and kneaded the shape of her. I encircled her waist with my other arm and pressed a kiss to the sliver of flesh on her shoulder.
Skadi tilted her head, granting me access to her neck. “Jonas.”
Gods, to hear my name on her lips. My smile lifted against her skin. “I promised the next time would be breathless.”
Skadi’s heel stomped on my toe. I laughed, my teeth nipping at the silver ring pierced in her ear. She moaned and stumbled, one hand bracing on the edge of the vanity in front of her mirror. Gods, the desire to lift her skirt and keep her bent over like this made my cock twitch.
I spun her around. Her lips parted in stun. One breath, two, and I crashed my mouth to hers.
Skadi stuttered through the kiss at first. I demanded more, my tongue against the seam of her mouth. She tasted like fresh rain.
Another heartbeat, and Skadi ceased her stun and kissed me back.
I leveraged her onto the table of the vanity, stepping between her knees. Her body was lean and trembling, the layered skirt lifted over her smooth legs.
A new want and need filled my chest. One that was like sharp claws desperate to hook into her flesh and keep her tethered to me always. There was a thought for her freshly styled waves, but passion won out, and I tangled my fingers in her long hair, soft as silk.
Skadi hissed into my mouth when I tugged on her roots.
My mouth abandoned her lips. She let her head fall back, baring her throat, when I sucked and kissed my way down her neck.
Behind my thighs, Skadi hooked her ankles and yanked me closer.
“You are wicked, Wife.” I tugged her sleeve over her shoulder.
“And you’re horrid.” She held the back of my head.
With her sleeve askew, more of her breast swelled free. On the underside, a bit of the ink she promised was there peeked through, but that wasn’t all.
I pulled back, the tip of my thumb ran over the raised flesh, gnarled and taut beneath a piece of her tattooed skin.
Upon my touch, Skadi went stiff as stone. She pulled away, her arms abandoning me, and covered her body. In haste, she fixed her sleeve, avoiding my gaze. “That went too far. We . . . we don’t want to be late.”
“You have scars.”
“Many people do.” She slipped on a black pair of leather ankle boots.
My teeth ground together. “I know what knife scars look like, Skadi.”
“How happy for you.”
Damn woman. I turned her around. “You flinch. You hide scars beneath ink. Who has harmed you?”
“It is of no consequence to you.” She ran her fingers through her hair, desperately trying to smooth out the waves.
“No consequence?” Heat of anger burned behind my eyes. I fought to keep the rage of mesmer from dimming the color.
“It is nothing,” she repeated, “and not anything so horrible like I’m sure you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking you have scars you’ve intentionally covered because you do not wish to see them. Scars like that usually come with some sort of pain. Who. Did. It?”
She straightened, eyes ablaze. “Why would I tell you anything? It does not matter.”
