Page 80 of Ironling
Aislinn’s lips parted, her body overwhelmed by a sudden punch of lust so potent, all thought left her.
Wülf knocked the door wider and trotted inside, unaware or uncaring why his master had stopped in the doorway. He loped up to Aislinn and sat, whuffing for a pat.
“Aislinn?” Hakon said again, voice pitched low.
Notmy ladyorheiress. She took some hope from that.
“Did you mean what you said?” she blurted, heart thundering against her ribs.
His throat bobbed on a swallow. “About what?”
“About everything.”
Aislinn watched in surprise as the uncertainty bled from him, and he somehow stood straighter, his shoulders thrown wide.Already warm, the smithy grew hot as she watched him fully enter then shut the door behind him, sealing them together.
“Yes.”
A rumble vibrated through the warm air, and she realized with a gasp that it was him. Purring for her.
In three quick strides, he was across the small distance, his arms going around her to pull her close. Held tight to all that warm, damp chest, Aislinn really had no choice but to press her palms to it and sink her fingers into his flesh.
His hiss of pleasure made her clitoris throb.
“I’m sure,” she told him. Not about where this would lead or how it would sustain itself—but him? Absolutely, yes.
That wide chest expanded with breath, as if he’d been waiting to hear those words. “Thank all the gods for that.”
Then his lips were on hers and everything wasright.
Breathing her own sigh of relief, Aislinn sank into his kiss, his body, his warmth. Her fingers found their way into his hair, and she raked her nails across his wet scalp.
That purr hummed against her lips, and when she gasped in delight, his tongue was there, chasing down hers. He sealed their mouths together in a hot rasp, a moan sounding from deep in his throat as he banded his arms around her back and lifted her off her feet.
Toes dangling, Aislinn kissed her blacksmith for all she was worth.
Fates, what an answer.It wasn’t quite what she’d been expecting, but whatever other doubts or concerns she had, they were drowned in the uncompromising tide of her hunger for him. It didn’t matter what tomorrow brought—so long as the promises of that night were fulfilled, Aislinn would be satisfied.
So, so satisfied.
“Fates, you feel too good,” he murmured against her lips.
“You promise you won’t stop this time?”
Another rumble, and to her horror, Aislinn was set back on her feet. She clutched at the bath sheet still around his neck, refusing to let him get far.
“Only if you tell me to,” he said, a fascinating little grin teasing at his lips. He pressed that grin into her mouth in a kiss before telling her, “Stay right here.”
Aislinn stayed, more so out of bafflement than because she was told to. She watched as Hakon closed up the smithy for the night, shuttering the windows, banking the fires, and closing the metal forge doors, leaving only a small vent at the top of each open for ventilation.
Finally, he returned to take her hand and lead her deeper into the smithy, up a set of three steps, to a door at the rear she’d never been through. Together they entered a dark chamber, cooler than the smithy but not cold.
Not letting go of her hand, Hakon used his other to light and turn up a lantern hung on a peg near the door. Soft illumination fell across his bedchamber.
It was a small but cozy room, with a narrow window looking out into the bailey. No hearth, but this part of the castle was kept warm from the smithy with purposefully designed ducts and chimneys. A wide bed took up most of the space, with a finely carved trunk at its foot. A small table with washbasin and bathing sheets sat in one corner, a well-worn chair with whittling tools in the other.
It was humble. Practical. Best of all, it smelled of him, a rich scent of male and iron and soap.
Muttering in orcish, Hakon backed Wülf up when he would have followed them in, shutting the door with him still in the smithy and Aislinn and Hakon in the bedchamber. Alone.
