“I think I need to go to bed,” I said.
Corbin checked his phone. “Yes, of course. You must be utterly shagged.”
“I’m guessing shagged means tired? You guys say theweirdestthings.”
“Shagged is agreatword,” Flynn grinned. “It has many meanings. I can enlighten you?—”
“Perhaps another day,” Corbin said. I barely heard him. It was taking all my energy just to keep my eyes open. Arthur leaned over and wrapped his thick arm around the back of my neck, the other one under my knees. He lifted me from the couch and started walking across the room.
“Let’s get you to bed,” he whispered in my ear, his beard tickling my skin.
After all my talk aboutnotbeing treated like a medieval princess, I knew I shouldn’t let Arthur carry me to bed. But his arms felt so good around me and the idea of dragging myself up the two steep flights of stairs to my bedroom tower made me want to get right back on the plane and go back to Arizona. Beautiful,flatArizona.
I snuggled in against Arthur, letting the scent of soot and fresh sweat and darkness wash over me.
“Goodnight, Einstein!” Flynn called out.
The other guys called goodnight to me, and I mumbled something back. My body bounced as Arthur ascended first themain staircase, then the narrow, winding stairs leading up the the tower. “Here you are, Princess. Home at last.”
“Thank you,” I mumbled, barely holding my eyes open.
Arthur planted me in the middle of the enormous bed. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Goodnight, Maeve. I hope you don’t find a pea in the mattress. If you do, blame it on Flynn.”
I smiled. “Goodnight, Aragorn.”
Arthur hovered for a few moments, like he wanted to say something else, do something else. My heart fluttered a little, and the tightness in my chest tugged against a rising ache between my legs. I focused on Arthur’s lips, suddenly transfixed by the curve of them, by the tiny line of bare skin just visible between the pink flesh and his wild viking beard.
What would it be like to kiss him? How would it feel to have Arthur’s enormous hands on my body, his tight muscles against my skin? My heart beat faster at the thought of it. Somehow, I knew it would be a hundred times better than anything I’d done with Andrew.
Kiss him. Go on. Just lean over and kiss him.
An invisible force tugged me toward Arthur. The air between us crackled with heat. I wasn’t tired any more. I was very, very awake, and very, very aware of Arthur’s body only a foot from mine, his huge arms propping him up against the bed, his black metal t-shirt pulling against his broad shoulders.
Kiss him, Maeve.
This voice in my head was completely foreign. Maeve Crawford didn’t go around kissing strange Viking boys she’d only just met.
Maeve Crawford was the pastor's daughter, the science geek, the girl who never fit in in Coopersville.
But I wasn’t in Coopersville anymore. I’d come halfway around the world to find myself.
Here, I wasn’t Maeve Crawford. I was Maeve Moore, broken girl, mourning girl, and maybe Maeve Moore wasexactlythe type of girl who made the first move, who kissed a hot Viking guy who made fire shoot from his fingers, just because she wanted to.
And damn, did I want to.
Arthur’s lips parted, just a fraction. His eyes betrayed his own desire.
“Maeve…” he whispered.
My name had never sounded so sexy as it did in his deep, husky voice and British accent.
Heart pounding, I leaned forward, my hands on the bedspread, only inches from Arthur’s forearms. I half-expected him to pull back, but instead, his whole body jerked as I brushed my lips against his.
A spark of fire shot straight from Arthur’s lips right through my body, reaching right into my chest and wrenching free the vise that had been clamped around me ever since my parents died.
I sighed with relief, with the sheer pleasure of his warm touch, of his beard tickling my chin and upper lip.
Arthur moaned, pressing his lips against mine with such force it bent my head back. I pressed back, my lips parting slightly. His tongue slid against mine, warm and soft and delicious.
