“And I know you know of our magic,” he went on.
I kept chewing and nodding.
His beautiful eyes held mine and they were back to tender. “Truth be told, poppy, from what I’ve learned from Finnie, our world is much simpler than your world. Your world seems very complicated. And from her descriptions, and I do not intend to offend you with these words, but my world seems less rushed than your world, the land less molested, the air less drab and heavy, and thus all of it more attractive.”
I looked to the landscape. Outside of bunny tracks, the snow was untouched. The pine trees stark green against its white and the so-very-blue of the sky, the tufts of snow on the trees’ branches thick and fluffy. The air was serene. There was no noise. No airplanes overhead, no railroad tracks, no cars or roads or billboard signs. It actually looked like a Christmas card or the vision of a holiday animated movie come to life, not anything real.
Yet it was.
And it was extraordinary.
“I think you’re right,” I agreed quietly and took another bite of sandwich.
At this point, I saw his used piece of muslin fly through the air and land in the opened basket.
I turned my eyes to him and saw him reaching for the wineskin of water hanging from another hook on the front of the sleigh. Stupidly, I watched him sit back, tip his head and drink from it. And even more stupidly, since I could see his throat above his turtleneck working as he drank, and I’d had my lips (and tongue) on that throat and I’d liked it, I became fascinated.
His turtleneck today was a forest green, no less spectacular than the one the day before, except for the fact that the color did amazing things to his eyes.
His breeches, I’d noticed that morning, were another dark brown but this pair had a wide, darker brown swatch of leather stitched to the entirety of the inseam, even the crotch.
Which, at the thought, brought to mind a part of him I paid a good deal of attention to last night, and that part wasn’t his throat. And he’d used that part brilliantly on me multiple times.
All these thoughts made my br**sts swell, my breathing turned shallow and my mind blanked of everything but him.
Which meant, when he dipped his chin and his gaze moved to me, he caught the look on my face. A look I knew communicated thoughts I wasn’t hiding when his eyes instantly grew dark and his hand flashed out to hook around the back of my neck and pull me to him.
His darkened eyes and his hand on me pulling me close made my cl*t throb and I was so focused on that heady feeling, as he leaned into me, his lips brushing mine then his cheek sliding against mine so his mouth was at my ear, I didn’t move a muscle.
Then in my ear, he growled, “You must cease looking at me this way, poppy. If you don’t, I’ll cover the floor of this sleigh with this fur and take you in the cold.”
Oh God.
I wanted that.
Oh God, what was happening?
“And out of necessity, it would be hurried,” he continued. “I’m much looking forward to reacquainting myself with your taste and that beautiful arse of yours tonight, and taking my time doing it. So the sooner we get to Vasterhague, the more time we’ll have.”
Okay.
What was happening?
He lifted away from me and the heat had not left his eyes so I continued to stare stupidly into them.
“Yes?” he prompted.
“Uh…yes,” I forced out. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he whispered, leaned in, touched his mouth first to one eye, then the other, and that was so sweet, my belly melted. He pulled back and went on. “Finish your sandwich, poppy. I’ll see to the horses and we’ll be away.”
At that, I forced myself to nod.
He smiled at me.
I bit my lip.
Then I watched his shoulders as he exited the sleigh.