He walked over to her and cradled her face in his trembling hands. “I . . . want . . . you . . . so . . . much,” he murmured, and between each word he whisper-kissed her forehead, her jaw, her neck, the side of her mouth. And then he took her lips in a kiss of intense aggression, a reminder that he was man, and she was woman.
Her breath caught in a soft gasp, and then she was kissing him back, as much as he would let her with his hands controlling the angle of their heads, the depth of their kiss.
She put her hands on the tense muscles of his shoulders and darted her tongue into his mouth, in challenge? For a brief second, it seemed as if she was licking his fangs.
A violent shiver swept over him. He raised his head to gaze at her, to see if she was teasing him or if it had been an innocent reflex. Hah! She knew exactly what she was doing, or leastways it was her innocent attempt at seduction.
She was succeeding.
He reclaimed her lips in a kiss even more voracious than the last.
She kissed him back just as voraciously.
Enough! He cupped her bottom in his hands, lifted her, and walked them both to the bed, lips still locked until he tossed her onto the mattress and came down over her.
“Tell me, Andrea, have you ever gone a-Viking?” he asked, nuzzling her neck before raising his head.
“No,” she whispered, a glow of anticipation in her golden eyes.
“Then you are in for an interesting journey, m’lady.”
It was true what they said about Vikings . . .
Andrea didn’t consider herself a sexy woman. Not even close. Oh, she liked sex, except for Pete the Perv, but her experience was limited, and she had to admit to a low sex drive. Compared to her friends, anyhow, who had active sex lives, if they could be believed, and according to Cosmo, which implied that women got laid on a daily basis, multiple times, and loved it. Yearned for it. Did everything in their power to seek, find, and enjoy the perfect bed partner.
“99 Sexy Ways to Touch Him.”
“Untamed Va-jay-jays.”
“Tease Him and Please Him.”
“Foreplay Men Crave.”
Jeesh! Talk about one-track minds! Other women’s one-track minds.
But all that changed since Andrea had met Cnut, who’d somehow tapped into her dormant sexuality. At some point in the past week or so, her libido had kicked into overdrive. And she was off to the races. Yes, she should put on the brakes right now. But she didn’t want to, and probably couldn’t if she tried.
So she sucked in a huge whiff of peppermint and said to the hunk of burning love leaning over her in the bed, “Has People magazine ever contacted you?”
She could tell her question disconcerted him, especially since he was poised over her on braced arms, his thighs spread between her spread thighs (how had that happened?), his erection (and, whoo boy, what an erection!) aimed at her lady parts like a dog on point, and he was huffing away like a locomotive in his attempt to slow down the runaway train of his arousal.
“What? No. Why?”
She shrugged. “You have to be the sexiest man alive.” And that was the truth. He had a perfect body. Wide shoulders, narrow waist, six-pack abs, muscular arms, and long legs. Not overly hairy, and what was there was silky blond. His face displayed sharp Nordic features with high cheekbones and full lips, a straight blade of a nose. Except for the pointy lateral incisors, he was perfection, and even they rather added to his allure, except they were more pointy than usual now.
He let out a hoot of laughter, then collapsed on her in a continuing fit of shaking humor. She felt the shaking on her breasts where his chest hairs abraded her nipples, and between her legs where his “dog on point” was jabbing a sensitive part of her body.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“Andrea, I’m fat. Oh, I know I no longer weigh four hundred or more pounds, but to me, I will always look that way. Far, far from anyone’s vision of sexy man. Thanks for the compliment, though.”
She understood what he meant. It was all in self-perception. She saw herself as the sexless, skinny kid who’d once been wounded by a neighborhood boy when he gave her the nickname Beanpole and it stuck. Hmm. Could that have something to do with her lack of interest in sex? Until now? We are what we perceive ourselves to be. The best sex is when we feel good about ourselves. Cosmo again!
She was feeling really good about herself at the moment and took the first step by running her fingertips over the breadth of his shoulders and down his arms to his elbows.
He shuddered in reaction, and goose bumps rose on his skin.
That made her feel even better about herself. She must have smiled in satisfaction because he murmured, “Witch!” and leaned down to nip at her lower lip. Without hesitation, he came back for more in a kiss so hungry and devouring she could hardly breathe. Then something amazing happened, he was breathing into her mouth, and she was exhaling into his mouth. Back and forth, it was as if they were breathing for each other. Breath kisses.