Then Frey’s mouth came to my ear. “Better, my wee Finnie?”
I pressed my lips together as my throat clogged because Frey had again, without word, without hesitation, given me exactly what I needed and, receiving it yet again at long last, I made an enormous decision.
I was going to tell my husband I loved him.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, relaxed into him and whispered, “Better, my handsome husband.”
Frey’s head moved so his lips could touch the hair at the side of mine then it was gone but he wasn’t.
As always, his large, strong frame supported my small one.
And together we stared straight ahead at our future.
* * * * *
“Finnie,” Frey called, his voice thick and I tried to focus on him.
I was on my back on his divan in his cabin, my hands moving feverishly over his skin, my legs spread wide, Frey thrusting between them, slow, gentle, his hips on a slight slant, my hips slanted with them. He was on a forearm in the mattress beside me; his other hand free to roam the skin of my side, belly, ribs and right then it was cupping my breast.
I was close. So damned close.
“I’m close, baby,” I breathed as my gaze locked with his.
“I know, love,” he whispered, his neck bending, his mouth touching mine, gentle, light sweet, he pulled back slightly, “Hold on, stay with me.”
I lifted my hips, he slid in deeper, that felt so fucking good I told him the truth. “I don’t know if I can.”
His hips rotated as he slowly slid out then rotated again as he slowly slid back in and I bit my lip, arched my spine and my nails trailed across the skin of his back.
“Stay with me, wee one,” he growled low, exposing he liked it too and just how much. “I want us to climax together.”
Oh God, yes.
I wanted that too. I wanted it bad.
“Okay,” I breathed and his mouth came back to mine, opened and he touched the tip of his tongue to mine as his thumb slid across my hard, oversensitive nipple and I whimpered into his mouth.
“Baby,” I whispered against his lips, that word trembling with agonized pleasure.
He glided out and glided back in. “Stay with me.”
“Frey.”
“Watch me,” he urged, “feel me. You’ll know when to let go. Wait for it, Finnie.”
My hips moved with his and the pleasure rolled through me, then again, and again.
Beautiful
Torture.
God, he needed to hurry up!
My hand slid around his chest and up to cup his jaw, my thumb moving to slide over his lower lip as he held my eyes, his heated, his hips moving, his cock stroking deep, his hand gliding along the skin of my ribs and all of it was better than anything I’d ever had, we’d ever had.
Even with adela tea.
I moved my hips with his, slid my thumb back over his lip and held his eyes as I whispered a thought that came out of my mouth straight from my heart, “God, you’re beautiful.”
At my words, Frey groaned so deep, I felt it straight up to my throat starting at my sex. He dipped his head, his thrusts going off rhythm, pounding deeper, moving faster, his big hand spanning my hip, manipulating its movements to take him, meet each stroke.
I circled his shoulders, pressed hard against him, wrapped a calf around his thigh and I felt it in his frame, in his flesh, he was there, I was there and we were going there together.
And that was when I turned my head and whispered, “I love you, Frey Drakkar.”
He buried himself to the root inside me, let go and I let go, my back arching, my neck arching, my moan deep and low. His strong teeth sunk into the flesh where my neck met my shoulder, his rumbling growl sounding through his teeth, pounding against my skin and my moan turned to a whimper as his arm wrapped around me and closed so tight, he squeezed the breath out of my lungs.
Yes, climaxing with Frey was better than anything, even the adela tea. Perfection.
As I came down I held onto him, fighting for breath but, unusually, Frey’s arm didn’t loosen.
“Frey –” I breathed.
“Say it again,” he growled against my skin, so fierce, my body trembled but his arm, so tense, stiffened further until it almost caused pain. “Say it again,” he repeated, his voice now harsh.
“I love you,” I whispered, breathless but his arm only got tighter, his cock still planted deep, his hips bucked, thrusting it deeper and my body jolted as a residual wave of heat burned through me.
“Again.” His voice was now beyond harsh, this demand was abrasive.
“Baby.”
Another squeeze, another buck of his hips and I whimpered.
“Say it, Finnie,” he grated.
I closed my eyes tight, fought for air and pushed out, “I love you, Frey. I’m in love with you. So in love, I’ll never stop loving you. Not ever. You, everything about you is beyond my wildest dreams.”
He pushed his face into my neck as his arm squeezed me even tighter for a second then it released and his hips pressed mine to the bed as he lifted up on both forearms so his big hands could frame my face on either side. His head came up and he looked down at me, face soft, beloved brown-green eyes active, stare intense.
And he did this for awhile. A long time, actually, what felt like years and he did it without speaking or moving. He just lay with his large body covering and connected to mine and he stared at me.
Um… I wasn’t certain that was good.
“Do you…” I pulled in a breath and with it courage, “uh… do you… um, feel the same… uh, I mean,” I rushed to finish, “like, not the same, the same but… um, even a little bit?” I asked.
He stared at me another second that led to two which led to three which led to four (I counted) before he asked, “Are you mad?”
I didn’t know how to take that answer.
“Um… no?” I asked back because now he was looking at me like he was convinced I was and his conviction made me question mine.
Then his face dipped close, his hands put gentle pressure on my head and he whispered, “Finnie Drakkar, I fell in love with you when you told me you had a rule about dead game on the kitchen table.”
I blinked and my body jolted with surprise.
He couldn’t…
Could he?
Seriously?
“Seriously?” I whispered.
He didn’t answer my question, instead, he stated, “No, it was before that, when I walked into the cabin to see my wife in a pink gown with a pink ribbon in her hair looking more beautiful simply stirring batter in a bowl than most women do after their maidservants spend five hours on their appearance.”
Oh my God.
Oh my God!
What man remembered pink dresses and pink ribbons? What man?
No man. None of them. None at all.
Except ones who witnessed these things while falling in love.
Oh. My. God.
“Shut up,” I whispered but I didn’t know how I did it since my throat was closing.
Frey grinned and replied, “It’s true.”
“That’s crazy.” I was still whispering.
“Indeed it is, my wee one, but it’s still true.”
Oh my God.
“I’m going to cry,” I announced, my voice trembling with the evidence that proved my statement true.
Frey’s grin became a smile and his eyes warmed. “I see that, love.”
My breath hitched and a tear slid out of the side of my eye before I demanded on a weak shove at his shoulder, “You have to quit making me cry.”
He dropped his head and slid his nose along mine as he muttered, “I’ll work on that.”
I looked at his olive green eyes close up knowing without a doubt he was so totally not going to work on that.
I held on tight and lifted my head, pressing it into his neck. He rolled, disengaging our bodies but taking me to the top where one of his arms stayed closed around me and his other hand stroked my back as I wept softly in his neck.