He echoed it with the other breast, his heated breath tormenting her. His hands moved over her hips to her bottom and he guided her legs apart.
“I want you crying out for me, before I fill you,” he murmured against her ear. “I want you so ready, you’re shaking.”
His words deepened her arousal, and when he bent to take her nipple in his mouth, she felt the sudden intrusion of his fingers sinking inside her. The shock made her knees buckle and her fingernails dug into his shoulders.
“Not enough,” he said, penetrating her with his hand and withdrawing. “You came to me, wanting this. But it will be on my terms, not yours.”
She reached for the ties of his hose, wanting to feel his body against her. He was hard and powerful, and the excitement of his touch was already causing her to tremble.
Anticipation filled her imagination, and as he kissed a path lower, his hands moved again. He filled her with two fingers while his thumb teased the hooded flesh of her womanhood.
It was dizzying, the feelings crashing over her. Though she shouldn’t be here with him, not like this, it felt incredibly sinful to take pleasure from his forbidden touch. She was leaning in to him, opening her legs wider in preparation for more.
Her breathing was uneven as he continued to touch and tease. Her hand slipped beneath the waist of his hose and she was rewarded by the velvet softness of his length in her hand. When she tried to remove his clothing, he stopped her.
“Sit down,” he ordered, moving her toward a sack of grain. “I’m not finished with you yet.”
Elena obeyed and when he stopped touching her, she felt the coolness of the night air against her skin. Her mind began to think more clearly, and she suddenly realized that she’d divorced her husband and was about to give herself to his best friend.
What did that make her? Was this the woman she’d become? The rise of understanding made her feel awkward, uneasy about this choice.
But then his mouth closed over her breast, suckling hard while his hand abruptly filled her. He blew against the sensitive nipple, nipping at her flesh while he invaded again and again.
Elena was in shock, unable to grasp the wild frenzy of need that possessed her. He was in command of her body, evoking a reaction she’d never felt before.
“Ragnar, I can’t breathe.” She shuddered against him, leaning back as her hands clutched his head. He slowed the pace of his finger thrusts, and she prayed he would soon end this.
“I want you inside me,” she begged.
“You won’t have me,” he countered, nudging his thumb against the nub that was now a delicious torture. “Not in that way. At least, not yet.” His breath moved over her stomach, down to the hollows of her hips, and she felt his mouth rest upon her mons.
His fingers remained sheathed within her and her imagination bolted with a burst of heat as his mouth moved closer. And when his tongue touched her intimate flesh, she came apart, writhing as the climax ripped through her. She clenched against his fingers, pulling his mouth back to hers. When she kissed him, she pleaded, “Now, Ragnar.”
Instead, he broke the kiss, his eyes narrowed. “No.”
She didn’t understand him, but when he adjusted the ties of his clothing, she realized that he wasn’t going to make love to her. He’d given her a searing taste of what it would be like to share his bed, but that was all.
He pulled her gown over her head, helping her to dress. As he did, his hands slid over her breasts, rekindling the need.
Confusion swelled up inside her, for he’d given her a sharp release, taking nothing for himself. And when he’d finished tying the laces of her gown, he leaned in to her ear.
“I won’t let myself be used by any woman,søtnos. Not even you.”
Chapter Twelve
Ragnar continued building his house over the next few days, needing the distraction from Elena. Guilt weighed upon him from the night he’d touched her, despite the fact that she’d ended her marriage. He should have turned her away from the moment she’d come to him.
And yet it had been impossible to release the years of longing. He’d been unable to refuse her, knowing that she’d needed someone to comfort her...but he never should have let things go that far. More than that, Elena had begun avoiding him, as if she regretted what they’d both done. Neither of them had been thinking clearly and he questioned what to do now.
For the past few years, he’d dreamed of the day when he was free to love her openly...and yet the invisible barriers had not lifted. He didn’t delude himself into thinking she was over the loss of her husband.
It would take time to let go of five years. And even though she’d turned to him that night, he knew better than to think she’d wanted him.
Five years earlier
She was standing before the edge of the fjord, staring into the silvery water. Ragnar watched over Elena, just as the tall hills shadowed the water running between them.
Her hair was braided back from her temples, the long waving strands falling to her waist. The green apron she wore accentuated her slender waist and golden brooches fastened it near her shoulders.
