Page 78 of Halfling
Darrah took the apple pieces with happy smacking sounds, but Orek was almost deaf to it. The roar of his blood in his ears as it sank to his cock nearly left him dizzy, and instinct bit at him hard to carry Sorcha off, hide her away, claim those lips for himself and taste just how sweet she’d be.
Instead, he let her eat in peace, content to see how thoroughly she enjoyed her pie. Even if the sight of those lips would haunt his dreams for days, he was pleased just seeing her fed and happy.
With their bellies now full, Sorcha nodded and said, “Ready to go up?”
The question brought another roar to his ears, lust and nerves surging inside to tangle in his guts.Up,she said.To bed.
Sorcha had only been able to secure them one room, which they’d share. He wasn’t about to leave her here, especially not now with the place swarming with males.
Yes, they’d slept in close quarters before, but this somehow felt…different.
Something glinted in Sorcha’s eyes as she watched him, waiting for his answer, but he didn’t know what it was. Anticipation? Nerves?
His stomach sank to think she was nervous about sharing a room with him. He vowed he’d make her as comfortable as possible; the floor was no trouble to sleep on and he’d stay across the room. Whatever she needed.
He nodded, and together they stood from the table. Walkingslightly to her side to part the crowd with his shoulder, Orek followed Sorcha to the stairs near the back of the tavern, leading to the floors of rooms above. He didn’t mean to watch the hypnotic sway of her backside as she led him up the stairs, but he was only mortal—and male at that.
It shouldn’t be this hard to get a male into bed,Sorcha thought. She tried not to let her grumpiness over it, nor the nerves that ran riot in her belly, show as she squeezed the water from her curls in front of the crackling fire.
Both of them were still damp from the bathing room at the back of the inn. With everyone still enjoying their dinners—and deep into celebratory cups that now came with raucous, toneless singing—she’d figured Orek would have the men’s side of the bathing room to himself.
They’d just met back at the room, bathed and scrubbed clean. On the third floor of the inn, their room was small but cozy, with a large bed piled with pillows, blankets, and a plush coverlet taking up half of it. The bedding was clean, the floor swept, and the fireplace tidy. All in all, she’d been pleased.
As they’d gone through the motions of preparing for sleep, she’d tried not to stare too long at how Orek’s clean linen shirt clung to his damp skin, giving her peeks at the glorious, wide chest she knew lay beneath. He’d combed his hair back behind his pointed ears, showing off the hard planes of his broad face.
Warm, clean, and full, Sorcha had been full of hope—her little hints and flirtations had gone unnoticed, and there were only so many times a woman could press her breasts against a man to no effect without getting discouraged. But here, together, she hoped to finally figure out what his true feelings were. That was, until they lapsed into a very polite argument about sleeping arrangements.
Orek was adamant he’d take the floor.
Sorcha was determined to have him sleep in the big comfortable bed they’d paid for.
Orek didn’t want to intrude.
Sorcha insisted he wouldn’t, it was a big bed.
Orek didn’t want her to be uncomfortable.
Sorcha argued she wouldn’t be,it was a big bed.
Clenching her back teeth, Sorcha squeezed more water from her hair with the cotton bath-sheet and reassessed her strategy. Perhaps this all wasn’t the masterful seduction she’d thought. And in truth, she wasn’t insisting just because there was a chance it might finally lead tomore—she genuinely wanted to see what he thought of a big, cozy human bed. That he’d never slept in one plucked at her heart in a way that was growing sadly familiar.
He’d had so little softness in his life. A bed was the least of it.
The collection of furs and blankets and bedroll he’d amassed told her he enjoyed comfort. She wanted to show him what else there was, that he deserved comfort and softness and good things.
If he’d just take them when they’re offered,she grumped.
But no, he was insisting on being gentlemanly and noble and chivalrous.
Or…perhaps he genuinely didn’t want to lay in the bed. Or lay in the bed withher.
The thought dampened her irritation and hopes.It shouldn’t be this hard.
Clearing her throat, she laid the wet bath-sheet on the back of the chair that held Darrah already fast asleep in his basket, then went to fetch the little wound-care kit she’d made up before leaving the homestead. When Orek saw it in her hands, he dutifully raised his shirt to let her at his healing side.
In truth, she was wasting salve again. For all its garishness that first night, his side had already knitted back together. The flesh was ridged and still angry looking from Anghus’s quick stitching in the middle of the night in a barn, but he was far further along in his healing than any human man would be.
It was a relief to see.
