Page 67 of Storm of Desire
Haakon released a slow breath. So it was going to be torture tonight, no matter whether she was the instigator—or his own frustratedimagination.
Gathering her up in his arms, he carried her to the bedroll and laid her down, Árdís blinked at him sleepily as he drew the blankets up overher.
"Are you hungry?" heasked.
"Notreally."
"Then sleep." He needed to eat, otherwise he'd be feeling it tomorrow. Finding some dried strips of beef in his pack, he chewed them mechanically as Árdís shifted in thebedroll.
Gods, he was tired. He'd barely snatched a few hours lastnight.
"Haakon?" A plaintivequestion.
"Yes?"
"I know you're going to think this is some trick, but would you consider joining me? Please," she whispered, shivering despite the blankets. "I'm cold, and that fire ispathetic."
Scrubbing at his face, he sighed. Fending her off when she wanted to fuck him was bad enough, but the idea of falling asleep beside her did something far worse tohim.
"I promise I will keep my hands tomyself."
It wasn't her hands that were theproblem.
"Move over," he murmured, stripping his boots off, and then his wet clothes. Laying them by the fire, he turned back to thebedroll.
Heat warmed the blankets from her body as he lay down behind her. But she'd not been lying. Her skin was cold to the touch, and her chemisedamp.
"You're not wearing anything," sheblurted.
"I know. Everything's wet." He shifted a little to tuck the blanket between her bottom and his burgeoning erection. She fit against the curve of his body as perfectly as she ever had. There was an inch between them, and a fold of blanket. It wasn'tenough.
Árdís lay still for long seconds. "I thought we had a truce. This isn'tfair."
"I'm not trying to temptyou."
"You don't have to," she muttered under herbreath.
He smiled a little at that, and shifted. The press of her chemise against his chest made him flinch momentarily. It wasn't a good idea to stay in wetclothes.
It was a terrible idea for her to be withoutthem.
Coulddrekieven fallill?
"At the risk of having my intentions mistaken," he muttered, "I think you should remove your chemise. If you fall ill from the cold, it's going to be a difficulttrip."
Árdís groaned. "You're making this very difficult tobehave."
Wriggling against him, she began slipping the hem of the chemise up her body. His world narrowed to focus on every hint of contact betweenthem.
Inch by inch, she dragged the wet linen up between them. His cock, which had been mildly interested before, but hampered in its enthusiasm by the cold, surged to rampant attention.Sweet mercilessHela.Haakon rubbed at the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. It mattered little. Every whisper of movement gave his imagination far too much to workwith.
"There," she whispered, and threw the wet chemise toward the rest of theirclothes.
Árdís lay back down with careful precision, maintaining the space between them. The blankets shifted up, revealing enough space along his back to allow a small draft in. His ass hungout.
The bedroll had only been made for oneperson.
Silently cursing her, he wrapped an arm around her middle and hauled her back that precious inch. Árdís yelped, then relaxed the second she realized what he was doing. A single fold of blanket kept the caress chaste. The chilled skin of her back against his chest made him flinch, but neither of them would get much sleep if she spent all night shivering. He managed to tuck the blankets around the both of them, and then draped his arm over herwaist.
