Page 20 of Wolf's Redemption

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When she next opened them with a start, they were moving upstream, she nestled in his arms, her face flush with his bare chest, as he picked his way through the shallow water. In her lap lay the wineskin and his boots.

“Go back to sleep,” he said, his voice a mere rasp of sound. “We have a ways to go yet.”

She wanted to protest, demand he put her down so she could walk on her own, but her eyes closed of their own volition, and she slipped back into blessed darkness.

She awoke again as he lay her down on the ground.

“We are safe here for the moment, Rebekah. Rest up while you can.”

She blinked at him through sleep-laden eyes. Standing over her, he looked every bit a medieval warrior. She had a moment to appreciate what a truly magnificent looking man he was, to try to remember the reasons she must stay awake, before she succumbed to fatigue once again.

* * * *

Bek’s stomach grumbled. She groaned. Another few minutes of sleep. She rolled over. Birds tweeted, warmth bathed her face and a hint of cooking meat and smoke tantalized her nostrils. She sat bolt upright.

Shit.

How long had she slept? She brushed leaves from her hair and looked around, taking in the grassy clearing, the early morning sunlight filtering through the trees and the creek bubbling along, emptying into a pond. A small fire crackled, cooking some kind of dead animal, skinned, gutted and suspended over the flames. Bek’s mouth watered. It should repulse her, but she hadn’t eaten since a rushed, soggy tuna sandwich at lunch yesterday. And it sure beat two-minute noodles.

But where was Ulrik?

Ripples in the pond drew her gaze. On the bank sat his sword and scabbard, his clothes and boots. His head appeared, and he tossed it back, his long hair flinging water about. He stood, and her gaze followed the rivulets of water running down his back, past narrow hips and across tight buns. Bek strangled a gasp and flopped back down, watching him through slitted lids, andpretending to sleep as he turned his head in her direction. She dare not move. She just lay there staring and imagined running her hands over that very fine ass.

He spun around.

Bek’s breath stalled in her throat, and her eyelids twitched with the strain of keeping them slitted. It would take a better person than her to turn away, to not look, to not take the opportunity to see what he was packing in those tight trousers of his. And it was a lot. Thick and long, and not at all affected by the cold of the water, and his ball sac hanging heavy between his muscular thighs. Bek’s fingers curled. He had a nice cock. She salivated. A very nice-looking cock. It was all she could do to not move or make a sound. To not rise from her position and join him in the pond.

What the hell am I thinking? Haven’t I learned not to play with fire?

Escape. That’s what she needed to do. Run as far away from this damn man as she possibly could. Before she did something really stupid.Like jump his bones.

She could find a village. Peasants would help her, wouldn’t they? Or a farmer? Farmers were supposed to be good people.

Then he took himself in hand, and his long, slender fingers stroked his length.

Oh, dear God.This guy was trouble with a capital T. In bold. Initalics. Highlightedandunderlined.

He continued to work himself, water lapping at his upper thighs.

I’d like to lap at his upper thighs.

Bek squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the debauched vision before her, and took deep breaths. When she opened them again, he’d turned away from her and was sliding back under the water.

Forget what he’s doing with his hand. Get up. Go. Now.

Bek leaped to her feet. If their trek through the forest last night had proved anything, she had no hope of outrunning him. She had to outsmart him. An idea formed in her mind, and she grinned. That’d slow him down.

She crept toward his pile of belongings and scooped up his boots, pants, dagger and sword and backed away into the tree line. Once she was out of sight, she turned and ran.

She didn’t have a lot of time. More if he finished what he’d started, believing her asleep. She stumbled, her mind catching on the erotic image. She squeezed her thighs together, gritted her teeth and pushed on.

Yes. Get away from him as fast as you can.

She glanced over her shoulder. He was still underwater. Good. She paused, and grabbed one of his boots, drew her arm back, and threw it as far as she could. She started off again before it had hit the ground, running as fast as her useless bunny slippers would allow.

Why couldn’t I still be wearing my work boots?

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