Free Web NovelChapter 203: Chapter 203
Circe lay in bed, tucked beneath the covers with only her face exposed, on the edge of sleep, when she heard the door hinges squeak. Quiet footsteps followed after the door clicked shut. She recognized Ragnar’s gait instantly.
The room glowed softly from the nightstand lamp, casting a warm, golden light across the shadows. Even in the dimness, she could have identified him by the shape of his silhouette. Her senses were so attuned to him that her body responded before her mind fully registered his presence.
It was late, and he must have been, like her, ready for sleep. Yet sleep still eluded her.
A rush of heat tingled at her neck as memories of that morning flared in her mind, how he had brought her to the peak of pleasure.
Shame mingled with longing as her core pulsed, aching for the memory of his hot mouth between her thighs, his fingers working her mercilessly, the way she had shattered under him and how tenderly he had bathed her afterward.
The ache between her legs only deepened.
Circe despised her mind and the way it had begun to link thoughts of him with the most decadent kinds of carnal pleasure, desires she had never allowed herself to consider before him. Not because she hadn’t wanted to in the past, but because, until him, no one had ever sparked such a fierce need within her. freeweɓnovēl.coɱ
She didn’t know what to do with these new, strange feelings, emotions she hadn’t known before him, as if he had reached deep inside her and pried them out with his hands.
He shifted, stepping out of her direct line of sight. The only way she could track him now was by turning slightly, watching his movements through half-closed eyes. She didn’t move or speak, just listened, a quiet, reckless thought stirring in her mind.
She wished he would lie beside her again tonight, to touch her the way only he could, the way that always drove her to the edge of madness. She knew he would if she asked. The words hovered on her tongue, but she couldn’t voice them.
She didn’t need to. He was always able to sense the things she refused to say. The next moment, she felt the mattress dip beside her, and her pulse fluttered wildly in her throat.
She squeezed her eyes shut, but it was too late.
"You can stop pretending to be asleep now," he murmured.
His low, amused chuckle rolled over her when she didn’t respond, keeping up the ruse. She didn’t want him to know what she had been thinking just moments ago or the fact that she had been watching him silently since he entered the room.
Heat pooled in her core, her body aching and needy, obsessed with the pleasure she knew only he could give.
His weight settled fully onto the mattress, the heat from him bleeding into her side of the bed before his hand even touched her.
The covers shifted and cool air kissed the back of her neck for only a heartbeat before his palm slid beneath the covers and found her shoulder. She could feel the warmth of his fingers through the fabric of her nightgown.
He didn’t pull the blankets down yet. Instead he traced the line of her collarbone with the backs of his knuckles slowly, as though memorizing the shape of her through touch alone.
Circe’s breath caught, a tiny sound she couldn’t quite swallow. The sound seemed to please him and she felt the faint huff of his laughter against her hair.
"Still pretending?" He murmured, lips brushing the shell of her ear. The words vibrated through her, low and rough, and her thighs pressed together beneath the covers without her permission.
He didn’t wait for an answer. The hand on her shoulder glided downward, over the thin linen of her nightgown, following the curve of her arm until his fingers laced with hers.
Then he tugged her gently until she rolled onto her back. The blankets slipped to her waist.
The soft lamplight painted her body in muted gold, along with the rise and fall of her breasts beneath the fabric. Ragnar’s gaze tracked the moment.
She had no choice but to peel her eyes open, hoping on the stars above that he didn’t notice the way her flush deepened as his hungry gaze pinned her in place.
He leaned over her, one forearm braced beside her head, caging without trapping her. The other hand came up to cup her jaw, thumb stroking along the flushed heat of her cheek. When he kissed her it was unhurried, lips parted just enough for her to taste the faint trace of mead on his tongue.
She made a soft noise in her throat, and he answered by deepening the kiss, coaxing her open until she was clinging to the front of his shirt, fingers twisted in wool.
Only when her hips lifted, seeking friction that wasn’t there yet, did he pull back. His mouth moved to her throat, placing open-mouthed kisses there, along the frantic beat of her pulse. Each press of his lips sent sparks skittering down her spine, each scrape of teeth made her gasp.
The nightgown was tugged upward inch by inch. Cool air kissed her ribs, her stomach, the undersides of her breasts. Ragnar’s palm followed the fabric, spreading tingles everywhere he touched. When the linen bunched beneath her arms he paused, holding her gaze. Then after heartbeat, he pulled the nightgown over her head, leaving her completely bare.
For a moment he only looked. The hunger in his stare should have frightened her. The way his jaw flexed, the way his hand shook just slightly as he reached for her, told her his desire was barely leashed. But oddly, she realized that she liked him like this as well, tightly wound, and barely clinging on to control. She liked knowing that she had the power to undo his steely restraints.
He started at the base of her neck again, slowly kissing down the line between her breasts. When he closed his mouth over one nipple she arched clean off the bed with a broken cry.
