Page 21 of Truly, Madly Viking

His only answer was the disbelieving lift of his eyebrows. He flicked his tongue briefly over his full lips, as if to signal that, even if she wasn't interested, he definitely was.

Lordy, lordy!

This had to be a joke, but he displayed no sign of humor. In fact, the chiseled features of his fine face lacked the laugh lines that should have been etched about the mouth and eyes of a man his age—about mid-thirties. If the eyes were the windows to the soul, his bespoke grimness, not a life filled with smiles.

Who was this man? The Orcaland people claimed they'd never seen him before. A police search of his fingerprints had brought up nothing. No family or friends had shown up claiming a missing person. He seemed to be a man without a past.

Maggie shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to bring up the loveslave subject again. But then she chastised herself: no topic should be taboo in the therapy relationship. With that in mind she asked, "Exactly how would you negotiate a loveslave contract?"

She expected him to laugh, or at least grin, but his expression was somber. "On your side, there would be the promise of freedom. On my side would be the promise of bed pleasuring."

A ripple, like an erotic shock, rushed through Maggie with stunning force. And that was amazing, really, because, while she'd made great gains in her insecurities about her body, she still harbored strong inhibitions about her sexuality. Case in point, her girls' father, Judd Haskell, who'd once said she was "as exciting as nailing a bowl of mashed potatoes."

"I see." Maggie blinked several times to clear her head under the intense survey of the man half reclining on the bed before her. He saw way too much. "Define freedom," she encouraged.

"I'd rather define bed pleasuring." A slight grin tugged at his lips, and Maggie thought he might not be without a sense of humor, after all. Perhaps it was just buried beneath the surface... or whatever pain had caused his breakdown.

"You talk in such an odd way," she commented. "I can't quite place the dialect."

"Hah! You think I talk oddly? You should hear yourself... and I do not just mean that sexvoice."

Sexvoice? Oh, he must be referring to the huskiness. That was another part of her body makeup that had contributed to her early reputation as easy. Leave it to this fellow to home in on it, right off. "My voice has sounded raspy like this since I was a child. A severe throat infection," she said, more defensively than she'd intended. "But your dialect... where are you from?"

"Vestfold."

"Huh? Is that in Texas?"

"I have no idea where this Tax-us is. Vestfold is in Norway. I am a Norseman. A Viking."

"I see." Now they were getting somewhere. Among his other mental problems, this guy thought he was a Viking... although, come to think of it, he did resemble a Norse god. She made a few quick notes on her pad.

"We were negotiating our loveslave contract when—"

"I never agreed to negotiate any such thing," she interjected, perhaps too indignantly.

"I have much experience in bed sport, of course.

"Of course," she replied, and immediately regretted her sarcasm.

Either he failed to hear the sarcasm in her voice, or he chose to ignore it.

Good.

"Now, I cannot claim great finesse in more refined bed sport—no flowery words or hand holding or such—and, in truth, I do not favor kissing all that much, but I have been told my endurance is remarkable. That and my size."

Her only response was a gurgle, which he must have taken for a compliment because he continued,

"And, of course, all Norsemen know the secret of a woman s S-spot."

"Don't you mean G-spot?" Criminy, was she the one going crazy here? What would prompt her to encourage him with questions like that?

"I know naught of a G-spot, but all Vikings know that the S-spot is far superior to any other sex spot."

The lack of expression on his face gave her no clue as to whether he was serious or not.

"Well, this loveslave business would never work, I can tell you that right away," she informed him with a nervous laugh, "because most women like kissing."

"Do you?"