Proof of Their One-Night Passion

Her body felt loose and languid, and yet she had never felt more alive, more at one with herself and the world and her place in it. If only she could freeze time...just until she was ready.

She shivered. But ready for what?

There was only one way to find out.

Opening her eyes, she felt her pulse scamper forward. Ragnar was watching her, his gaze more grey than blue in the predawn half-light.

‘Morning,’ he said softly.

Her eyes had adjusted to the light now, and she gazed up at him, trying to read his expression. Not once during the night had she felt that he was regretting their decision, and nor did she feel any regret for what they’d done. But cocooned in darkness, sheltering in one another’s arms, it had been easy to feel as if they were in their own little world, outside of time and answerable to no one.

‘What time is it?’ she asked quietly.

‘About six.’ He hesitated, his face stilling as though he was working something through in his head. ‘Sorry, did I wake you?’

Shaking her head, she met his gaze. ‘No, I’m nearly always awake by six.’ She gave him a small, swift smile. ‘Sóley doesn’t really do lie-ins

yet.’

There were three beats of silence.

Her right leg was curled over his left, and she could feel the prickle of his hair against her skin, but what did this physical closeness really mean?

Inside her head, a nervous round of questions began firing off like party poppers. What was he thinking? Had the night changed things for him as it had for her?

The questions, or maybe the thought of his possible answers, made her stomach tighten.

Was having sex really that big a deal?

She felt her face grow hot at the stupidity of her words. Yes, it was—and not because there had been nobody since that first time with Ragnar. Last night had been about more than satisfying her hunger. It had felt like an admission of something other than sex.

Her heart began to pound. Or was she just doing what she’d done with Alistair? Building castles in the air? Letting her imagination play fast and loose with the facts?

‘About last night—’

They both spoke at the same time.

Her chest tightened as his eyes lifted to her face. ‘You think it was a mistake?’ he said.

‘Do you?’ she prompted. Her heart was beating so loudly now she felt sure that it must have moved from her chest into her head.

He stared at her for what felt like half a lifetime and then he shook his head. ‘No, I don’t.’

‘I don’t either.’ She spoke quickly, relief making her words run into one another like a runaway train’s coaches hitting the buffers.

There was another beat of silence, and then he reached out and pulled her close, kissed her with the same urgency he had in the darkness. Her heart was still pounding, but with his lips on hers the tightness in her chest began to ease.

Finally, he raised his mouth and rubbed his face against hers, so that she could feel his warm breath on her skin. ‘So, what happens next?’

It felt strange, hearing her own words come out of his mouth, for asking him that question had been a defining moment in her life. It was as if they had come full circle.

Only back then everything had been possible. Standing outside the restaurant, pressed up against the heat of his body and with his blue gaze resting on her face, she had felt as though they had a limitless number of futures, some too distant to fully imagine, others too fragile to be considered seriously, but all of them had been out there.

Now, though, too much reality had come between them—good and bad—for her to feel like that.

But what was she feeling? Did she even know?

Closing her mind to the confusion of her thoughts, she let her eyes drift over the hard muscles of his chest and stomach, then lower to where the hair grew most thickly.