Page 70 of The Viking in the Vault
She’s already shifting toward me, curling into me, seeking my warmth—and gods, if that doesn’t break me all over again.
I brush my knuckles over her cheek, tracing her flushed skin. “Are you tired, fenvarra?”
She shakes her head, her fingers slipping up to my chest, trailing along my skin in lazy, reverent strokes. “Not yet.”
I hum, pressing a slow kiss to her forehead before letting my hand drift down, toying with the hem of her sweatshirt. “Will you let me see all of you?”
Her lips part. I wait. She nods.
Slowly, I ease her sweatshirt up and over her head, careful not to startle her, savoring the sight of her bare skin as it is revealed to me inch by inch. Her PJ top follows, and when she is left completely bare to me, I can’t help the sound that rumbles from my chest—deep, reverent, full of aching, breathless awe.
She bites her lip. “You’re looking at me like you’re seeing me for the first time.”
I am.
I press a kiss between her collarbones, my lips moving lower, over the soft swell of her breast. “I have dreamed of you like this,” I murmur, my breath warm against her skin. “But even my dreams did not prepare me for the reality.”
Her breath catches when I kiss her there—just below her nipple, slow and tender, letting my mouth explore her the way I’ve wanted to.
I am in no hurry.
I kiss her again, and then again, my lips moving lower, my tongue flicking out to taste her. I trace the peak of her breast, drawing a soft whimper from her, and then I take her into my mouth, sucking gently, savoring her.
Elena gasps, arching into me, her fingers weaving into my hair, her body warm and pliant beneath me.
I groan against her skin, dragging my tongue over her nipple, teasing, my free hand cupping the other breast, kneading softly as my lips continue their worship.
“You are perfect,” I murmur, letting my teeth graze her lightly before soothing the touch with my tongue. “Every inch of you.”
Her nails dig into my shoulders. “You’re so…” she trails off, her breath shuddering. “So—thorough.”
I smirk against her skin, kissing lower before returning my lips to hers. “I take my time with what is mine, fenvarra.”
She melts into me, curling into my arms as I lay beside her, my body cradling hers, my lips still brushing along her throat, her shoulder, anywhere I can reach. She sighs, content, her bare skin warm against mine.
And Yrsa preserve me, I have never felt peace like this.
I pull the blankets over us, wrapping her in my arms, keeping her close. She nuzzles into my chest, her breath evening out, her fingers tracing slow, lazy lines over my skin.
“Are you sure you’re okay with not doing it tonight?” she asks.
I frown, but quickly infer her meaning, only to nod and hold her closer.
“I would wait another four thousand years for you, if that’s what you wish,” I tell her.
Elena hums, her fingers tracing lazy circles over my skin. “You know, I don’t think I want to wait four thousand years.”
I smirk against her hair, rolling her gently beneath me, just enough to press my weight into her, to remind her exactly what she’s waiting for. “Then name the day, fenvarra,” I murmur, my voice dark with promise. “And I will ruin you.”
Her fingers curl against my ribs, a slow, contented sigh leaving her lips. “Good,” she whispers.
And as her breathing evens out, I hold her tighter, knowing I would wait until the stars burned out if it meant she would always end up in my arms.
25
ELENA
Iwake to the sound of soft whining at the door.
