Free Heart of a Viking by Samantha Holt Page B

lightly caressed her skin. The shudder in her increased.
    “Do not fear me,” he told her again, softer this time.
    She shook her head.
    It was all the invitation he needed. He ducked his head. Untouchable, a voice whispered through his skull . Forbidden , another reminded him. But no man commanded him.
    Perhaps this woman did, however.
    The first taste of her lips sent heat flaring through his body. It kindled low in his gut. She softened into him and her fingers curled around his upper arms.
    To be savoured and treasured, that was what this woman was made for. So he did. He eased a hand behind her head, threading it through the soft strands of her hair to cradle the back of her head.
    With his lips, he savoured her. He tasted the corner of her mouth and the curve of her lips. Keita released a tiny sigh and he sampled the heat of her. She gave a startled sound when his tongue met hers. He tasted her inexperience and it heightened the sensation.
    Untouched.
    The word no longer whispered but rattled through his mind. And instead of dissuading him, it only enflamed his need. His cock grew hard and agonising. To be the first man to kiss her like this did untold things to his body. What he would not give to be the first man to do other things.
    She found the rhythm, meeting the sweep of his tongue and opening her mouth fully to him. He used the grip on her head to bend her back enough to leave her open to him. Delicate breasts and gentle hips pressed into him. Her fingernails dug deeper into his arm and he relished the bite. It assured him this was real, that he had not fallen asleep or been rendered senseless. Keita was here, in his arms, meeting his kisses with a similar need to his own.
    He slipped a hand down her back and clasped her rear through the wool of the gown. Thorarin had half-expected her to stiffen in horror but instead she kissed him harder. Bunching the wool in his hands, he lifted it higher.
    A little touch was all he needed. Just to feel the sweet, soft skin of the back of her thighs or perhaps the crease under her buttocks. One. Little. Touch.
    “Keita?”
    He released her, almost shoving her away. She dragged down her skirts and Thorarin sucked in a deep breath as the thrall stepped in. The man scowled at Keita before dipping his head in acknowledgment of Thorarin. The thrall had to see the colour on her cheeks and the way her breasts rose and fell against the blue wool.
    “Forgive me, the járl wishes Keita to return to the longhouse,” the thrall told him in Norse.
    “Of course.”
    Keita spared him the briefest of glances, swinging her gaze to where he had discarded his disguise. He put a foot on the cloth though he doubted the thrall would have any idea it had been used to mask his features. As she left, Thorarin pushed a hand through his hair and shook his head to himself. That had been too close. If he wanted to lose Ragni’s trust, he was going the right away about it.
    Untouchable should not mean appealing. It had to mean he would not touch her again. She had to remain forbidden to him. For both of their sakes.

Chapter Nine
    Though the soft touch of wool appealed to Keita, having her figure displayed as though she were some statue or carving made her stomach bunch. Ragni had her stand by him at the feast while his guests from a nearby settlement were on either side of them. She caught the way their gazes followed her and she felt as though insects were crawling all over her. She felt bare and vulnerable in her elegant gown.
    Much like she had with Thorarin. She glanced at the empty seat. What could he be doing? She should never have allowed him to touch her, not a man like him.
    Aye, he was different. He had kissed her with a gentleness she could never have expected from a Viking. Had even looked at her with something akin to awe. But he had secrets. Why was he spending his time hidden away at the farmstead and what had the cloth across his face been for?
    She tried to imagine it was to do with