Excerpt from Viking in Tartan by Suz deMello

Copyright © Suz deMello, 2014

Leaning forward, Erland stroked her cheek, gazed into her eyes and set his lips on hers.

Cool they were, but with an underlying fire. Letting her eyes drift shut, she pushed her mouth against his, sure he held the key, knew the secret, could give her everything she’d ever wanted.

From where had that crazed thought sprung?

Her lids popped open, her eyes meeting his.

“Aye,” he murmured. “Everything.”

How did he ken her very thoughts?

Did that matter?

No, she decided. The how of it wasn’t important. That he understood was enough…more than enough.

She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his. He kissed her with more determination and opened her lips with his, then gently slid his tongue inside.

She jerked away. “Och!”

He chuckled. “Bear with me, mistress.”

Another kiss, and now she tentatively let him in. She sought his tongue, eager to learn this new game, and he responded by allowing her to play as she wished.

She became entirely absorbed. She’d seen folk in shadowed corners of the castle kissing, but had never understood the reason people liked it so much. Now she did. She wanted to kiss Erland for the rest of the night. That she might have to kiss him for the rest of their lives… Well, that wouldna be so bad, would it?

He seemed to have other ideas—more ideas—for he started to explore her body. His fingers caressing her breasts along with his kiss was intoxicating, mesmerizing.

Would he feel the same if she did the same? Still with closed eyes and questing mouth, she blindly reached out and touched his chest. Cool and firm, with soft smooth skin overlaying hard muscle, his chest was almost as interesting as his lips and… She opened her eyes. His face. Och, aye.
She loved his face.

She blinked. “Oh,” she breathed.

He smiled, teeth perfect and pearly, then took her long, dark hair in one hand. He used it to tug her head to one side… Why?

He kissed her neck, feathering his tongue over the sensitive skin, and all conscious thought fled. She gripped his shoulders, then stroked them, admiring his strength, a contrast to his sweet, sweet kisses.

Her body was heating, tingling, sizzling, and she wanted to touch herself the way she did when she was alone at night, but… Wasn’t that wanton? Would he cease to treat her kindly if he knew the desires that drove her?

He lifted his head. “Touch yourself. Touch yourself in whatever way feels good to you.”

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