Moonlight Promise

Part Three

*Disclaimer: Mature content ahead*

The warmth is what wakes me. I'm hot, uncomfortably so. The sun hasn't yet begun to rise. I can still see the thunderous storm clouds dancing on the horizon.

I turn slightly, confused at what the source of the heat could be. Long, brown, wavy hair meets my eyes. I blink slowly, cleaning some of the sleep from my eyes.

Ivar...

He doesn't stir as I watch him. He has one hand tucked under a small pillow from my bed, the other tucked under his chin. He's sleeping on his stomach, his brown-sugar-skin on full display.

I swallow softly, looking my fill. My curiosity about his body in the waning moonlight gets the best of me. I lean closer, reaching for the blanket tucked between us. Furs are wrapped around us at our feet, the fire is still burning softly in the fireplace. He looks like a God, the amber light surrounding him like halo.

I slide the blanket off of me slowly, gazing at him as I do so. He doesn't stir and his breathing remains slow and even. He is still sleeping deeply. I see the skin of his legs come into view and I feel heat rush to my cheeks. I feel like I'm invading his privacy by looking below his belt line, so I stop myself. I tuck the blanket around him tighter, deciding I shouldn't cross that boundary.

My fingertips glide across his warm skin, feather-light. I don't want to wake him, but I also don't know if I'll ever get this chance again. So, I take full advantage of my limited time to feel him. Soak him in. He stains me. He leaves his mark on me. He is bliss and fear and desperate, desperate, brokenness all wrapped in one, and I love it. I do not have to pretend with Ivar. I can be myself. I can be as shameful, as blunt, as honest as I need to be.

"No one has ever looked at me like you are right now." I startle at the raspy, sleepy, sound of his voice. My gaze shoots to his, and his clear blue eyes are glued to me.

He is taut, stiff, like he expects me to hurt him now. Like he expects me to take our magical evening back, but I cannot. I will not.

"Like what?"

"Like I'm worthy," he says sadly. A lock of hair falls into his eyes. It lags across his cheek and I slowly push it out of his eyes and tuck it behind his ear.

"I'm sorry that no one ever gave that to you. I know how that feels. It's maddening."

His brows twitch and I know he wants to ask me what I mean, but he doesn't.

"Why are you not married, Camila?" I was hoping this question wouldn't come up. I was hoping this topic would never arise, but it has.

"I was. Briefly. My husband was killed in Francia." He sighs and I feel his fingertips glide across my bare thigh.

"I did not know I would feel jealousy at the mention of you with another man. I know it is wrong of me, but I feel a lick of it."

"I've been alone since then, Ivar. No one else has shared my bed. I swear it." I didn't owe him that. It was none of his business who I slept with, but I wanted to reassure him that what happened between us wasn't a common occurrence.

He glances at me before he swallows and grips the pillow a little tighter, the insecurity back to swimming in his pretty eyes.

"Did I...was last night to your satisfaction?" He winces at the end of his question, like he's ashamed he's asked it. I bite my bottom lip, a blush spreading across my cheeks. It was beyond my expectations. I can still smell our lovemaking in the air around us.

"Yes. It was perfect." Ivar's gaze is very intense as he watches me.

"I did not expect to be able to fuck you. I wanted to taste your sweet pussy, but I got distracted. Will you allow me to make it up to you?" His filthy words cling to my skin like a blanket. I want to disappear into them. I want to keep him here with me, forever, if it means he will use that powerful body against me. Tease me, hurt me, please me.