Page 43 of Dangerous Obsession

Viking nibbled his way from her mouth, across her jaw, ending at her earlobe, where he gave her a teasing nibble. He drew back just enough to gauge her reaction.

“Are you sure about this?” She was precious to him, and it was important she was certain of what she wanted.

“More than anything I’ve ever done in my life.” Her fingers combed through the hair on the back of his head. “I want you, Viking. So much it hurts.”

“I want you, too.” He kissed her, explored her mouth, then stopped. “I’ve wanted you since the first time you called me Sasquatch.”

He squelched her giggle by kissing her as he walked to the stairs and took them two at a time to her bedroom.

“Let’s get naked.” Her hands traveled over his shoulders and down his chest.

She grabbed the hem of her shirt, dragged it up her body, and tossed it over her head. It bounced off her dresser and landed on the floor. She wiggled for him to put her down, so he set her on her feet, and she began undoing her jeans.

“Whoa, hang on.” He placed his hand over hers. “Leave something for me.”

“Oh, okay. Sure.” She swiped her hand across her forehead. “Phew. For a minute there I thought you changed your mind.”

“Not even close.” Viking’s fingers brushed her stomach when he touched her to undo her jeans.

She gave a sharp inhale, and her abs sucked in. Goosebumps raced across her peachy skin, and her nipples strained against the thin fabric of her bra.

He popped the button on her jeans and tortured himself by sliding the zipper down slowly, one tooth at a time. Viking savored every inch of skin revealed until the lacy band of her lavender panties came into view.

He wedged his thumbs into the sides of her jeans and slowly dragged them and her panties down until they pooled at her ankles. She placed her hands on his shoulders, lifted one foot out at a time, then reached around and unhooked her bra. Viking skimmed the straps over her shoulders, down her arms, and let the lacy fabric drop to the floor.

He stepped back and drank her in. She didn’t squirm or try to hide herself from him. On the contrary—she stood proudly before him, a woman who’d taken back control of her life and become comfortable in her own skin.

“You’re beautiful, Marigold.” He reached out and skimmed one fingertip down the center of her chest to circle her belly button, then went back up to skim across her left nipple.

Her breasts rose and fell, and their beautiful tawny buds puckered. Her head lolled back with a sexy moan, and she arched forward, seeking his touch. He cupped her breasts and gave them each a gentle squeeze. They weren’t big, but they weren’t small, either, and they fit perfectly into his hands.

She blinked and gave her head a little shake.

“Hoo boy, you pack a powerful punch, mister.” Her voice was husky with need. “Now it’s your turn.”

Marigold never thought she’d trust another man enough to let him touch her body in such an intimate way. Now she understood—she’d been waiting for Viking to enter her life.

He did that sexy guy thing where he reached over his shoulder, grabbed a handful of shirt and yanked it over his head.

“Oh. My. Gosh.” Like a moth drawn to a flame, her hands moved to his large chest.

So much power contained behind such soft skin.

His muscles bunched and moved beneath her touch, and he undid his jeans one button at a time—pop pop pop pop—and let them drop to the floor.

“Commando. Brave man.” A man had to be extremely confident to walk around in public with no underwear on.

Viking shoved his pants aside with his foot, and they joined hers on the floor. He stood before her in all of his unbelievable, confident naked glory. His impressive erection strained upward.

“Eyes up here, honey”—he lifted her chin with one finger—“or this is going to be over a lot faster than either of us wants.”

“I can’t help it.” Her gaze traveled over his shoulders, his chest, and landed on his penis. “You are just … so … I mean … I can’t even find the words.”

The man was an Adonis.

At six feet eight, he might intimidate, even scare people with his presence. Not Marigold. To her, it was a natural counterpart to the protectiveness that seemed to be a part of his DNA. She would never feel unsafe with him.

His longlonglegs were powerful, and his shoulders were broad enough to bear any burden. And his arms… Holy moly, his arms were a work of art all on their own. A light dusting of dark blond hair covered his chest and formed a narrow strip that led down to the promised land. His body had been honed to muscular perfection, and the scars on him only enhanced his male beauty.

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