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She needed him.

Something had shifted today—in her, in him, in the world.

She pushed him slightly so that he fell onto his back on the mattress. He let out a surprised chuckle.

“You wanted me to ride you,” she said and watched his brows crawl up. “Your dreams are about to come true.”

She had no idea where it came from, this confidence, this oneness with herself—her body and soul—and with him. But she’d take it.

The smile fell from his face, his eyes dark and full of desire. Her core, still sensitive and swollen, clenched in delicious anticipation.

Cathy undid his trousers and pushed them down his hips. His thick, hard erection made her clench even more. “Oh,” she said and swallowed. “Wow.”

When he lay naked in front of her, all muscles and strength, he put one arm behind his head. His erection twitched and Cathy’s inner muscles clenched in return. She wanted him inside her, stretching her, filling her, making her his. Making him hers.

Hers.

Slowly, Cathy ran her palms against his long, muscular legs, and Andor’s chest began rising and falling slower and deeper.

“You do not look so bad yourself, mister,” she said, her voice coming out husky and low.

He twitched his lips slightly within his beard, his eyes going even darker. “What will you do to show this to me?”

Cathy was right in front of his erection now and licked her lips. She took it in both her hands, and it jerked, long and thick and hard, and she became even wetter. She stroked it up and down gently several times, then leaned down and licked his hot, velvety skin, once, twice, three times. Andor closed his eyes, the sinews of his neck bulged, his jaw muscles tensed.

Cathy put her leg over him, placed him against her entrance and plunged down on him. She was swollen and tight, and she gasped as her sensitized flesh filled with overwhelming pleasure. He thrust so deep it hurt slightly and stretched her even more, making her clench around him. Andor moaned, and Cathy felt him twitch within her.

She began moving, savoring the universe of sensations he gave her. She rode him slowly, up and down, feeling him gliding within her, pleasing her, consuming her. He watched her at first, from under half-closed eyelids, but then began thrusting, matching her rhythm. He stretched his hands out and cupped her breasts, massaging them, teasing her nipples. He traced the curve of her waist, and as his hands moved to her hips he grabbed hold. He groaned and began grinding into her with a wildness.

It undid the last of her negative thoughts, the last of any doubt or restrictions, and she gave in fully. And with it, a buildup the likes of which she never had experienced began within her. She was one with him, in this sacral dance, allowing every sensation to flow through her.

Sensation upon sensation bombarded her, the tension unbearable. Then it burst and opened up into a world of sun and warmth and rapture.

Somewhere she wasn’t alone.

And as her body took over, so did his, and they rocked together on the surf of a sweet storm for what felt like an eternity.

Cathy collapsed on top of Andor, breathing with him, soaking wet. A tear crawled down her cheek and landed on his chest in a tiny drop. As she watched it, Cathy knew that Andor would be a part of her as long as she lived.

And then she remembered another man who would be part of her forever, a man who was lying in a hospital bed, his life depending on her.

A man she was, apparently, already forgetting.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

January 20, 878 AD

“How do you touch your toes like that?” Andor crouched over his feet, doubled up. No matter how much he sweated, no matter how deeply he breathed through the pain, he was failing to straighten his legs and reach his toes at the same time.

While he was going through Helheim, Ragnarok, and what felt like the fire breath of the dragon Fafnir, Cathy glided through the air with flexibility and grace. Her torso pressed against her straight legs, she hugged her knees and buried her face between them. Which gave him the most beautiful view of the backs of her long legs and her behind, which stuck out in the air.

A small mercy, at least.

He already missed that arse, even though he had spent the whole of last night enjoying its sweet company. He had loved Cathy’s silky skin against his, her moans as he brought her to ever higher levels of pleasure. They had eaten the stew, sitting on the bed still naked, throwing playful smiles at each other, and then he had fallen asleep holding her in his arms just before dawn. It was quiet in his head—the ghosts were silent for once—and he was happy for the first time since Svana’s death.

He was ready for more nights like that. A lifetime of them.

The thought chilled his body. This was not how he was supposed to feel towards Cathy. Towards anyone.