To Tempt A Viking by Michelle Willingham Page A

be conquered, like a slave for his taking. Elena reached to her shoulders and unfastened the heavy golden brooches, setting them aside. She took off the long apron and then loosened the ties of her gown. Beneath it, she wore nothing at all.
    His hands came up from behind her, helping her until the gown hung upon her slender frame. Her body was burning with need, for she knew this man well. She ached for him, wanting to be touched. Knowing the dark pleasure he would give.
    Her gown pooled to the dirt floor, baring her flesh to him. He didn’t speak, but she felt the warm caress of his kiss upon her shoulder while his hands glided over her delicate skin.
    She closed her eyes, welcoming the sensation. The heat and aching lust were burning within her skin, making her wet for him.
    He cupped her breasts and against her bottom, she felt his erection pressing. He was still wearing his leggings and she dared to speak. ‘Take them off.’
    In response, he gripped her breasts tighter, flicking his thumbs over the hardened nipples. ‘You don’t command me, søtnos .’
    His strong arm held her in place, his right hand stroking and tormenting the nipple until she was heavily aroused. His left hand moved down, over her stomach, down between her legs. ‘You don’t ever tell me what to do.’
    He was punishing her, she realised, when his hand slipped between her legs. With his fingers, he found the wetness, sinking two fingers inside her while he used the heel of his hand in a rhythmic pressure.
    She was dying against him, her body yielding and craving him. He pinched a nipple, driving her higher with excitement until she was so desperately close to the edge.
    Abruptly, he drew away, leaving her starving for his touch.
    ‘What do you say to me?’ he demanded.
    ‘I— Forgive me,’ she begged. She needed his hands upon her and his mouth. Her body was quaking for him, wanting to be filled by this warrior. She craved his hot shaft piercing her with a relentless penetration.
    But he gave her nothing at all.
    And when she turned to see his face, Ragnar’s eyes glared down at her.
    * * *
    ‘Elena.’ Ragnar heard her cry out in her sleep and she was trembling violently. ‘Wake up.’
    He couldn’t tell if it was a nightmare or something with the baby, but he moved beside her, reaching out.
    But the moment he touched her shoulder, she let out a moan. ‘Please.’ Her breathing hitched and he was taken aback when she gripped his hand and pulled it around to her breast.
    She was still dreaming, but the moment she felt his hand upon her, she let out another cry and shuddered like a woman finding her release.
    And just like that, he grew hard. He didn’t know what she was dreaming of, but hearing her climax was enough to bring his own arousal.
    In his mind, he let out a curse, knowing it was wrong. But for a stolen moment, he drew his hand over her swollen breast, seizing a fleeting touch he never should have had.
    He wanted her so badly, it was all he could do not to pull her to her back and lift her skirts. From the deep scent of her skin, she was ready for him. He would sink into her wet depths and bring her to another release.
    Ragnar jerked his hand away as if it were on fire. He didn’t know if she was awake or not, but he prayed she wasn’t. What in the name of Thor was he doing? She was likely dreaming of her husband, missing Styr when she’d reached for him instead.
    Careful not to wake her, he left their shelter, seeking the frigid darkness to cool his ardour. He drew his hand down to his wound, resting it against the bandage to provoke pain. Anything to fight against the lust she’d conjured.
    Staying with her had been a mistake. He couldn’t lie anywhere near her without wanting more. She was, and always had been, the woman he’d dreamed of. He limped forwards, resting his hand against a nearby tree. With slow, deep breaths, he calmed his heartbeat.
    No more.
    He would not betray his best friend, nor would he give rein