When he pulled the door closed, her hands came around his neck, pulling him near. “Make me forget all of this,” she pleaded.
He tasted the desperation in her lips, mingled with the yearning of a lonely woman. If he were a cruel man, he’d take heroffering. Tonight he would finally taste her skin and know the pleasure of loving her.
But he wasn’t that man. And he didn’t want his first moment with Elena to be like this.
“No.” He stepped back, and the cold night air spiraled between them. “You’re not thinking clearly right now.”
“I don’t want to think at all.”
“I won’t let you compare us,” he said harshly. He didn’t care how stark the words were. “I don’t want to be the man you use, for the sake of forgetting your troubles. You’re better than that, Elena.”
She let out a heavy sigh and reached for his hands. “Ragnar, I didn’t mean it in that way.”
“You did, and you know this.” He pressed her back against the wooden wall, letting her feel his arousal pressed against her. “If you want me, it won’t be because you want to drown out the memories of another man. Especially when that man is my friend.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She leaned her cheek against him, and added, “It’s just that...he never really wanted me. It was duty and a means of conceiving a child. Never out of joy.” She lowered her head. “I always thought there was something wrong with me.”
The scent of her skin and the temptation of her flesh were starting to unbind his good intentions. “Look at me,” he commanded. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You were two good people who weren’t meant to be together.”
“Then who am I meant to be with?” she asked. “I can’t feel things the way a normal woman would. I didn’t enjoy my marriage, and there weren’t any children to bring joy to it.”
He reached a hand up to her face and felt the presence of tears again. Freya forgive him, but he hated to see her cry. “Don’t,kjære. Not with me.”
He leaned in to kiss her, wanting only to reassure her. But her hands slipped beneath his tunic to touch his bare skin. She stroked his lower back, and the touch tore apart his sense of responsibility.
She helped him remove the tunic and her hands moved over his skin, learning him. “Why did you never marry, Ragnar? Any woman would be glad to call you her husband.”
Because he couldn’t have her. Elena was the one woman he’d ached to possess. Though his body wanted to claim her now, he knew it would damage what there was between them.
“Do you want me to take you back?” he asked, ignoring her question. He wasn’t going to bare his thoughts before her, not so soon.
“Not yet.” Her hands moved away from him, and she stepped back. There was a rustle of fabric and then she admitted, “I wasn’t intending to use you tonight, Ragnar.”
“If you had, you’d regret it, come the dawn,” he said.
“Perhaps. But I wanted you to know...when you kiss me, I feel beloved.” She leaned in to embrace him, and he inhaled sharply when her bare breasts touched his chest. Gods above, she’d let her gown fall to her waist. He could feel the taut buds of her nipples and at that moment, he lost sight of every shred of honor.
She had come to seduce him—that much was clear. But tonight he refused to let her direct him.
“This is your last chance to leave,” he said quietly, drawing his hands over her bare back. “If you stay, you’ll do as I command. And I’ll claim your body, whether you will it or not.”
Thank the gods. The storm of tremulous feelings was flooding through her in a way she craved. She knew what there was between a man and a woman and didn’t fear it. Styr had never hurt her, and there had been times when the sensations had pleased her.
But in the past two years, she’d been so consumed with thoughts of having a child, she had no longer taken pleasure in the act.
Tonight would be different. Just the touch of Ragnar’s hard body against her softness had evoked an aching desire she could not deny. He kissed her hard, plundering her mouth as he demanded her surrender.
She didn’t yield to him the way he wanted her to. Instead, she kissed him back, trying to make him understand why she was here. She was tired of being a shadow, ignored and overlooked.
His mouth trailed down her collarbone, closer to her breasts. She wanted to feel the warmth of his kiss upon her nipples, to feel the pull of dark desire.
Instead, he circled ever closer, without giving her what she wanted. The proximity of his mouth was torture and between her legs, she grew wet with need. Elena stripped away the rest of her gown, stepping out of it until she was naked before him. She wanted to be consumed by Ragnar, to lose herself in this.
“Slow down,” he ordered. “We have time.”
She didn’t want him to take his time. She wanted a quick coupling, to release the tension and frustration inside. Just as she was about to speak, his tongue flicked against one nipple.
It was like the crack of a whip lashing over her body, and she shuddered at the sensation. By the gods, she’d never known such a fevered reaction.
