Page 116 of The Orc Chief's Baker
Brovdir caught her swiftly around her back and brought her up, boosting her until she was sitting up on the high countertop. Her cheeks went flush at the heat in his eyes.
And then he kissed her. His lips slanted tenderly into her, while his hard tusks surrounded her cheeks, holding her captive. His hands came around her back gently as he held her still.
It felt like she wasmelting. Meltingintohim. She balled her fists against his chest and met his kiss with equal gusto.
A clatter from the hall reminded her of where they were, and she broke off the kiss. Brovdir let out a little huff of frustration, but she pushed him back.
“Put the barrel in front of the door,” she ordered, and his eyes flashed with heat before he went to do her bidding. He lifted it like it weighed nothing, but thethunkshe heard when he dropped it told her it was quite heavy.
He turned back to her. “What else?”
What else?
He was looking at her with expectant, heated eyes and her toes curled in her shoes.
“Trinia.” The sound of her name rumbled low and sweet and threatened to turn her into a literal puddle. She took a deep breath and snapped her gaze back to the orc’s face.
Not just any orc. Brovdir.
Her orc.
He regarded her with a raised brow, a quirked smile, and a relaxed posture that instantly put her at ease. So what if he was huge and deadly strong and had claws and teeth that could rip her to shreds...
Her pussy clenched at that thought andwhatin all burned biscuits didthatmean?
“What next?”
“Hmm?” She snapped back to attention and found Brovdir looking amused by her shock.
“What next, Trinia?” He tipped his head slightly.
He wanted orders. Of course he did. Goosebumps broke out over her arms, and she couldn’t decide if she was more excited or nervous.
“Go sit down on that box so I can reach you more easily.”
A zing of delight shot through her as he obeyed her commands without question. He settled down on the wooden crate against the wall, underneath multiple shelves holding baskets of berries and cooking tools.
In this lighting, from this angle, his scars looked so much more prominent. His body was literally covered with them. Harsh jagged lines, some with pockmarks on the side. She came up and traced the one along his pectoral muscle, and he let out an exhale that rustled her hair.
“It looks like this was stitched.”
“It was.”
Her brow pinched. “But don’t you have healing tinctures?”
He shook his head. “Not enough.”
Her heart clenched. “So many of these could have killed you.”
“Didn’t.” He rose his chin as if in triumph.
“You’re right. They didn’t. But you still suffered.”
His expression wavered a bit.
She reached up and stroked her fingers through his hair. Using her nail to scratch gently from his forehead, all the way down the back of his scalp.
He produced a full-body shiver and his eyes shuttered closed. A low grown left his lips.
