She needed to get this over with. How long had it been? A minute? Two? There wasn’t much time left.
She closed her eyes, said another prayer for courage, and carefully climbed onto the bed beside him. The mattress sagged with her weight, causing her heart to jolt. She listened for the even sounds of his breathing, but her heart was in her ears and she couldn’t hear anything else. But he wasn’t moving; that was a good thing.
She tried to make herself small, turning on her side at the edge of the bed and leaving as much space between them as possible. Though they weren’t touching, she could feel him. He was so big and warm—his body seemed to radiate heat like a fire.
Hoping her father would hurry up, she started counting in her head. One minute. Two.
Where was he?
All of a sudden the bed squeaked as he shifted behind her. She gasped when his big arm wrapped around her waist, just under her breasts, and pulled her against the hard length of his body.
She froze like a deer in the archer’s sights. Shock and awareness waged war with her senses. Mostly, she was aware of his heat enveloping her. Of the sheer power of the big, hard body behind her.
What was she going to do?
She couldn’t move even if she wanted to. It felt as if she’d been encased in warm steel, his big warrior’s body rigid and unyielding but inexplicably cozy.
Good Lord, his arms were strong. She could feel the latent raw power in the big muscles flexed against her waist and breasts. She remembered how he’d wielded his sword with deadly precision and tried not to panic.
A task that became impossible when she became aware of something else: He wasn’t asleep.
