Fall Hard by J. L. Merrow Page B

biography.”
    Viggo settled himself beside me, mirroring my posture. Our hips touched, the warmth of his body soothing the ache in my bad leg. He turned his head and gave me a sly look. “It’s not all that you know of me.”
    Heat flooded through me, arousal pooling in my groin. I could almost feel him surrounding me once more, see the intricate tattoo of Yggdrasil with its branches undulating in front of my eyes. My skin seemed hyperaware of where we touched, even through our clothes, and it got harder to breathe.
    I put down my mug.
    A smile teasing at the corners of his mouth, Viggo did the same. He put a hand on my waist, almost hesitantly, and when I leaned into the touch, he moved around to press his body against mine, trapping me between his muscular frame and the counter. With his other hand, he gently brought my face to his for a kiss.
    God, I’d been starving for this. I kissed him eagerly, my end-of-day stubble rasping against his beard as I explored his mouth with my tongue. Trying to learn how he felt, how he tasted. Hot and bittersweet, from the coffee we’d barely touched. He smelled of the river, with the faintest hint of the sea mingling with oil from the boat he piloted. I wanted to plunge right into him.
    He was wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt that covered most of his tattoos completely, even Mjölnir half-hidden by the fraying edge of his sleeve. Impatient, I pulled at the hem, yanking it up. Viggo grinned and backed off an inch to strip it off in one easy motion. Jörmungandr writhed as his biceps flexed, seeming to tighten his scaly coils about Viggo’s arm. I smiled and ran my hands up his chest.
    “No ink here?” There was just a light furring of blond hair.
    “You think I should get some? What would you like?”
    I drew in a deep breath, pressing closer to him as I considered the question. “A pair of ravens, perhaps. Or the Fenris-wolf.”
    We were much of a height—Viggo perhaps an inch taller—and our erections ground together as Viggo pulled me against him with both hands on my arse. “For you, I’ll get them.”
    I kissed him fiercely, thrusting my tongue into his mouth again. God, my heart was beating so hard he must be able to feel it against his chest. I wanted him to feel it.
    “We go to bed this time?” he asked almost shyly when we broke apart, our breathing ragged.
    “If you like.” I was rewarded by those ice-blue eyes crinkling up once more in easy delight. He was born to smile. I pulled him back to me for another kiss, this one softer, gentler.
    I led him the short way along the corridor to my bedroom with its bright white bed. Subdued daylight still filtered through the window, but I switched on the bedside light and drew the curtains. The room seemed warmer in the artificial glow, the bed less clinical. More inviting.
    Apparently Viggo agreed. He kicked off his shoes and lay on top of the duvet, leaning his weight back on his elbows. His gaze never left me and his eyes, already the deep blue of a glacier at sunset, darkened further as I unbuttoned my trousers. I hesitated, unnerved both by his scrutiny and by his physical perfection compared to my…not.
    Changing my tack, I left my trousers on but unfastened and clambered onto the bed. Onto Viggo. His faded jeans were soft with age, a clear bulge at his groin. I nuzzled at it briefly, breathing in his musky scent, then moved on. He lay back on the bed, letting me dominate him. “You’re beautiful,” I whispered and leaned over to kiss Jörmungandr’s coils.
    “Should I turn over?” he asked softly.
    “No.” Maybe it was strange, but I enjoyed knowing Yggdrasil was there, but being unable to see its branches, its root. “Just get those jeans off.” I moved back a little so he could do as I’d asked, running my hands up and down his sides, brushing his nipples with my thumbs. When his cock sprang free, I didn’t wait for him to finish undressing, just slithered down and nuzzled into him again. His scent was