Page 27 of Scornful

He tastes like cinnamon gum and desire, his beard rasping deliciously against my skin as the kiss deepens.

My hands slide up his chest to loop around his neck, fingers threading.

Geirolf walks me backward until I hit the wall, his body pinning me in place.

One of his hands slides down to grip my hip while the other cradles the back of my head, protecting me even as he devours me.

When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard.

"Should we..." I gesture vaguely toward the back of the spa, where the treatment rooms are.

He shakes his head. "You got an office? More private."

I do, but it’s nothing special.

My office is small but comfortable, with a desk, two chairs, and a small couch I sometimes nap on during long shifts.

I lead him there, hyper aware of his presence behind me, the heat of his body like a physical force at my back.

Once inside, I close the door and turn to face him, suddenly nervous.

This is really happening. I'mreallyabout to cross a line that can't be uncrossed.

"We can just talk," Geirolf says, surprising me. "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for."

The fact that he's giving me an out only makes me want him more.

"I didn't ask you here to talk," I say, finding courage I didn't know I had. "But there's something I should tell you first."

He leans against my desk, giving me space. "I'm listening."

I take a deep breath. "I haven't been with anyone since Laken. And even with him, it wasn't... good. He made me feel... less than."

Anger flashes across Geirolf's face. "That piece of shit."

"The point is," I continue, needing to get this out, "I'm not very experienced, and I'm not... confident about my body. So if you're expecting some wild night with a woman who knows what she's doing?—"

"Astrid." He crosses the space between us in two strides, his hands coming up to frame my face. "I don't have any expectations except being with you. However you want, whatever you're comfortable with."

The sincerity in his eyes makes my chest tight.

"And as for your body," he continues, his voice dropping to a growl, "I meant what I said yesterday. You're fuckin’ perfect."

To emphasize his point, his hands slide down to my waist, then around to cup my ass, squeezing appreciatively. "These curves drive me crazy, Princess. Have since the first time I really looked at you."

Heat floods my cheeks. "You don't have to say that."

"I don't say shit I don't mean," he says firmly. "And I'm gonna spend tonight showing you exactly how beautiful I think you are."

Before I can respond, his mouth is on mine again, the kiss is slower this time but no less intense.

His hands roam my body, obviously appreciating me.

He strokes up my sides, over my hips, squeezes my thighs.

Each touch feels like he's making a map out of me, learning every curve and dip.

When his fingers find the hem of my sweater, he pauses, eyes questioning me.

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