I looked at the bed. I looked at Kristoff. I looked at the lamps on either side of the bed, assessing how badly I wanted to see him naked against my need to keep him from doing likewise.
An expression of sheer male arrogance filled his eyes. “You’re not going to try to make me believe that you’re too modest?”
“I am, as a matter of fact, a very modest person,” I said, lifting my chin and trying to look down my nose at him. It wasn’t easy, considering he was at least a good foot taller than me. “And you can just stop making that face at me. Yes, we’ve slept together. Yes, you’ve felt my body, but that’s not the same thing as seeing it.”
“For the love of the saints . . .” Kristoff marched over to me. I squeaked and tried to get away, but he had me backed up against the wall before I could take two steps. “You are not fat.”
“I-”
“No,” he said, pressing me against the wall. His body was hot and hard and felt so good I just wanted to weep with the rightness of the feeling of him against me. His breath was just as hot on my lips, his hands sliding around me to grab my behind, pulling me even tighter against him. “You are as you are, Pia. And I do not find you physically repulsive, or repellent, or any of the other unpleasant images you believe I foster. I would have thought the opposite, in fact, was quite evident.”
“Men have those sorts of reactions regardless of whether or not they like the body in question,” I protested.
His eyes narrowed. “Who told you that?”
I freed a hand enough to make a vague gesture. “Everyone knows that. Men are ruled by their pe nises. Women are different. There’s a huge market of relationship books that explain the ins and outs of it. So to speak.”
“That’s one of the most unfounded and insulting things I’ve ever heard you say, but I am willing to overlook it if you will forget such a ridiculous idea. Men aren’t just sex machines, Pia. We have feelings, too.”
“I never meant to imply you didn’t-”
“Yes, you did.” He paused a moment, his mouth so close to mine I had to literally curl my fingers into a fist to keep from grabbing his head. “There may be some people who enjoy sex for sex’s sake-both men and women-but I assure you that I am not included in their number. I like the way you look. I like your body. I very much wish to make love to you.”
I searched his eyes, looking for any sign of deceit.
Such a nice image you have of me. I am not lying to you. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to, and I don’t.
You couldn’t? I asked, my toes curling with the sensation of intimacy that speaking thus brought with it.
No. You are my Beloved. I can’t harm you, lie to you, or deceive you in any manner. So you can believe me when I say that I do not find you anything but physically appealing.
“Then you must be a truly exceptional man,” I couldn’t help saying.
He said nothing, just released my butt in order to strip the shrug from my shoulders. He stared at the front of the sundress for a moment before unbuttoning the bodice, his long fingers brushing gently against my flesh.
I shivered, but not with cold.
“I can assure you that no man would find your breasts anything but magnificent,” he murmured, deftly unhooking the front of my bra to release my boobs.
I clutched his shoulders and moaned as his hot breath swept into the valley between them.
“The memory of them has remained with me the last two months,” he murmured, his mouth closing on one suddenly aching nipple.
“It has?” I asked, gasping as his tongue made a long, slow swipe. “Oh, dear God, do that again.”
He did, releasing my breast to kiss a hot, steaming path over to where my other boob waited impatiently for its turn. “They haunted my sleep. I could taste them, feel them, feel the silky softness of them and the warmth of them in my hands.”
The slight stubble of an evening growth of beard was pleasantly abrasive on my now highly sensitized flesh. I shivered as he rubbed his cheek along the underside of my breast before catching the tip gently in between his teeth.
I moaned again, my fingers digging deeper into his shoulders, my mind filled with the sensations his mouth was generating.
“I do not normally like perfume on my woman, but this one pleases me,” he murmured against my flesh.
“It’s not really a perfume. It’s an amber oil called Love Me,” I answered, sliding my hands down his back, letting my fingers dance down the swells of muscle.
“Is the name a command or a desire?”
“Whichever you want,” I said, dipping my head to nibble on his shoulder. “I got it in a sample pack.”
“I will get you more,” he said, his mouth moving upward as his fingers continued to unbutton the front of my dress.
I made a noise of protest, uncomfortable despite his assurances, but my objection was short-lived as he leaned into me, his hands sliding my dress down over my hips. I melted, I positively melted against him, shivering from the feeling of his chest rubbing against mine.
I gasped as he suddenly grabbed the backs of both of my thighs, hoisting me up and pulling my legs around him in one move. His mouth closed on mine as he pushed me against the wall, the coldness of the wall contrasting with the heat of his body. He groaned when I suckled the tongue that was twining itself around mine, a deep groan that started in his chest and reverberated out until it thrummed through me.
He moved sinuously against me, his chest hair teasing and tormenting my breasts. I slid my hands up his back and around to his sides.
Touch me , he begged, and for a moment I was flooded with images and sensations that I recognized as coming from him, not me. They stopped almost immediately, leaving me dazed, feeling as if I’d been locked into a dark room, away from a source of blinding light.
I slid down his body until I was standing again, my hands tracing a tantalizing path around to his belly. You’ve lost too much weight , I murmured to him. I liked you better before.
Some things haven’t changed , he answered, willing my hands lower.
I smiled to myself as I stroked a path downward, my fingers wrapping around his erection. At the touch he groaned again into my mind. I had the faintest hint of his feelings, but felt deprived, locked away in the dark when he was enjoying the light.
Share , I demanded as I let my fingers dance down the length of him.
His eyes burned down into mine.
I tipped my head back and nipped the lovely curve of his lower lip, wanting more, wanting all of him, needing him to touch me. Share with me, Kristoff. I want to know what you’re feeling.
He hesitated for a moment, and I caught a whisper of thought, of a name.
She’s not here. I am , I said, pushing down hard on the little spike of pain that accompanied his thought. Please, I want to know what you’re feeling. I want to know just how my boobs haunt you. We’re going to have to spend the rest of our lives together. I want to know you.
He groaned again as I found a rhythm he liked, his eyes burning so hot I felt as if they were lighting my skin on fire.
I need more than just sex , I said with a little mental sob, my heart suddenly feeling as if it would shatter. I need you.
And suddenly, the floodgate was opened. I gasped as his emotions, tangled with sensations he was feeling as I stroked him, filled me with a lightness that burned through to my soul. There was sexual desire there, almost indiscernible from the always burning urges of the hunter. I reveled in the sensations, accepting his feelings and giving him everything I had.
His teeth pierced my shoulder, the pain an exquisite moment that lit bright in my mind as he filled me with thoughts that were both carnal and profound, a strange mixture of bodily needs and emotional desire.
Now do you believe me? he asked, his voice just as silky and beautiful when it was spoken only in my head. You cannot doubt any longer that I desire you.
I kissed a path over to his earlobe. His entire body jerked as I bit down on his ear, his head pulling back from me for a moment, an explosion of shock and rapture and sexual need swamping both of us.
His eyes flashed at me for a second before I found myself once more hoisted against the wall, his fingers
