Inside the house, Elena sat beside Matheus, watching over him. Ragnar let them have a private moment together while he centered his own thoughts. But even while he sat on the far side of the room, he never took his eyes off her. Long strands of reddish-gold hair spilled over her shoulders as she leaned back against the wall.
He saw her hand pass over Matheus’s shoulders, and her green eyes caught his in silent thanks. She didn’t know how close she’d come to losing this child at his hands. It haunted him even now.
Elena lay down beside the boy, but she remained restless and didn’t sleep. After several minutes of tossing and turning, shegot up from the pallet and crossed the room toward Ragnar. He remained with his back to the wall, waiting for her to speak.
In the darkness he could still see the scrape beneath her chin where the spear had penetrated her skin. It bothered him to know that she could have died tonight. Life was a fragile thing, severed at any moment. And perhaps that meant taking command of what he wanted, living each day to its fullest.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she whispered. “Not alone.”
Her hair was tangled about her face, her green eyes luminous. He wanted to kiss her, to feel her body pressed close. But he was still shaken by what had nearly happened to the boy.
Elena took his hand and led him away from the others. The men were fully aware of their presence, but no one paid them any heed. She reached up to his cheek and stood on her tiptoes.
“I just…want you to hold me for a while.” Her arms wound around his neck, and she stepped forward until he felt the softness of her breasts pressing against him. Ragnar hardened instantly as her scent caught him with a flare of desire. “I was so afraid.”
He breathed in the scent of her hair, knowing he had no right to hold her. And yet he couldn’t make himself step away. Not yet. “I will always keep you safe, Elena.”
“I know,” she murmured. She pulled back and rested her forehead against his. “I hold a lot of regrets inside me,” she admitted. “I never thanked you for saving my life when we were nearly taken captive.” She stood on her toes and pulled his face down to hers, kissing him.
It took all of his willpower not to ravage her mouth, claiming her the way he wanted. He let her take what she wanted, allowing the kiss, but not overpowering her.
“I never told you how grateful I was that you protected me on the island.” She slid her hands to rest upon his heart, kissing him again. The innocent touches ignited his lust, provokinghim toward losing control. When she touched her tongue to his mouth, he opened to her offering, deepening the kiss until she broke away.
“And I never told you how thankful I am that you never left my side. Even after Styr and I divorced.” She ran her hand through his hair, adding, “I couldn’t have endured those first few days without you.”
Although she had put her marriage behind her, the mention of Styr was like frost against Ragnar’s desire. He knew that Styr had shared her bed, that his friend had known her intimately. It provoked a jealousy beyond any he’d ever felt before.
He wanted Elena to know who he was. And he was not Styr.
Ragnar took her face between his hands, plundering her mouth. He kissed her hard, running his hands over her body—teasing the swell of her breasts, down her waist, until he grasped her hips.
She was breathing harder, but she gave back to him everything he wanted. Her hands moved beneath his tunic, touching his bare skin. A moan escaped her when he nipped her earlobe, tasting the soft skin and arousing her.
“Beautiful Elena,” he growled as he took her mouth again, thrusting his tongue against her own. Her arms came around his neck and he didn’t doubt that she wanted to share his bed tonight. The thought made his shaft harden at the idea of penetrating her wetness.
He wanted her to respond to his touch in a new way, to be tempted in ways Styr had never shown her.
You’re not good enough for her,came the voice of doubt inside him.
He wouldn’t let himself believe it. Instead, he kissed her harder, trying to blot out anything except her touch. He wanted to memorize her, learning her with his hands. The raw craving—to take her body beneath his and join their flesh as one—was undeniable.
When her hands moved to his leggings, he captured them. “No. Not yet.”
Her face flushed and she started to move away from him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“I’m not finished with you,søtnos.” He held her captive against the wall, kissing the soft underside of her chin, just above her wound. Her weight sagged against him as his hands moved up her bodice, his thumbs finding the tips of her breasts.
“I let you take me that night, but you’ve no idea what it means to share my bed.” He pinched the tips lightly, watching as she closed her eyes, her hands digging into his shoulders.
“If you want to be lovers, I’m going to drive the memory of Styr out of your head. I won’t have him intruding on what’s ours.” To underscore his words, he reached beneath her skirts, touching her bare thigh. Though he stroked her skin, he kept his palm below her intimate opening.
She tried to shift against him to bring his hand where she wanted it, but he held it in place. Her green eyes flew open, and she pulled his mouth down to hers.
“Say my name,” he demanded. “Look at me and know who’s touching you.”
“Ragnar,” she said in a throaty voice.
He sensed how deeply aroused she was, for he was aching as badly as she was. But he’d learned long ago that the greatest fulfillment came from the greatest longing.
