Wildest Dreams
Page 107
And he made no bones about that.
As ever, he was often at his own tasks but these were few when he didn’t have me close. And as our days slid by and with it our time, nothing had cooled, nothing had faded, in fact, everything, including the time we spent alone and naked, heated, grew brighter, more intense.
All this, I told myself, meant Frey had to love me.
He had to.
He just hadn’t told me.
And therefore I hadn’t told him.
And, considering we were again at sea, we were again on the move, we were off to face whatever was next and that weight still pulled at his tone, I wondered if it was because he was waiting for me to say it so he could.
He was a virile, hot, action guy and although he never shied away from demonstrations of affection, both physical and verbal, maybe declaring his deep, abiding (for mine was both so his had to be too) love was a shade too far and he needed me to assure him that these feelings were mutual.
But I was nervous at the thought of putting that out there even though Frey gave me not one, single indication I should be.
Still, I was.
But I shouldn’t be.
Nevertheless, I was.
Shit.
Shit!
I sucked in breath and let the emerald of the sea and the green of the shore fill my vision.
Then I whispered to my husband, “We’re breaking the cardinal rule.”
“The what?”
“The cardinal rule, the most important rule there is, the one you never, ever break,” I explained.
“And what is this important rule we’re breaking, wee Finnie?” Frey asked.
I studied the vista as I answered, “Dad always said, never look back. Always look forward. Always look where you’re going; never waste time on where you’ve been. You’ve been there so you don’t have to take that time and wasting any time, even a breath, is a mistake. Memories can be shared of the good times but they need to be shared while your eyes are to the horizon, faced forward. No matter where we went, when we left, he didn’t let us look back. When I was young, he made a game of it. By the time I grew older, I did it out of habit, never looking back, not even a glance.” I pulled in a soft breath and finished, “And now we’re looking back. Dad would be disappointed.”
I barely stopped speaking before Frey moved me from the railing, turned me toward the helm and I heard him say low, “Thad.”
Thad was at the huge, wooden wheel. He looked over his shoulder at Frey, lifted his chin then looked to me and grinned. I grinned back, he moved away and Frey moved in, positioning me so I was standing with my back leaned into him then his hands were at the wheel and the blue of the cloudless sky meeting the brilliant emerald of the Green Sea with the lushly greened islands rising out of the water The Finnie was flowing passed were all I could see.
Then Frey’s mouth came to my ear. “Better, my wee Finnie?”
I pressed my lips together as my throat clogged because Frey had again, without word, without hesitation, given me exactly what I needed and, receiving it yet again at long last, I made an enormous decision.
I was going to tell my husband I loved him.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, relaxed into him and whispered, “Better, my handsome husband.”
Frey’s head moved so his lips could touch the hair at the side of mine then it was gone but he wasn’t.
As always, his large, strong frame supported my small one.
And together we stared straight ahead at our future.
* * * * *
“Finnie,” Frey called, his voice thick and I tried to focus on him.
I was on my back on his divan in his cabin, my hands moving feverishly over his skin, my legs spread wide, Frey thrusting between them, slow, gentle, his h*ps on a slight slant, my h*ps slanted with them. He was on a forearm in the mattress beside me; his other hand free to roam the skin of my side, belly, ribs and right then it was cupping my breast.
I was close. So damned close.
“I’m close, baby,” I breathed as my gaze locked with his.
“I know, love,” he whispered, his neck bending, his mouth touching mine, gentle, light sweet, he pulled back slightly, “Hold on, stay with me.”
I lifted my hips, he slid in deeper, that felt so f**king good I told him the truth. “I don’t know if I can.”
His h*ps rotated as he slowly slid out then rotated again as he slowly slid back in and I bit my lip, arched my spine and my nails trailed across the skin of his back.
“Stay with me, wee one,” he growled low, exposing he liked it too and just how much. “I want us to cl**ax together.”
Oh God, yes.
I wanted that too. I wanted it bad.
“Okay,” I breathed and his mouth came back to mine, opened and he touched the tip of his tongue to mine as his thumb slid across my hard, oversensitive nipple and I whimpered into his mouth.
“Baby,” I whispered against his lips, that word trembling with agonized pleasure.
He glided out and glided back in. “Stay with me.”
“Frey.”
“Watch me,” he urged, “feel me. You’ll know when to let go. Wait for it, Finnie.”
My h*ps moved with his and the pleasure rolled through me, then again, and again.
Beautiful
Torture.
God, he needed to hurry up!
My hand slid around his chest and up to cup his jaw, my thumb moving to slide over his lower lip as he held my eyes, his heated, his h*ps moving, his c**k stroking deep, his hand gliding along the skin of my ribs and all of it was better than anything I’d ever had, we’d ever had.
Even with adela tea.
I moved my h*ps with his, slid my thumb back over his lip and held his eyes as I whispered a thought that came out of my mouth straight from my heart, “God, you’re beautiful.”
At my words, Frey groaned so deep, I felt it straight up to my throat starting at my sex. He dipped his head, his thrusts going off rhythm, pounding deeper, moving faster, his big hand spanning my hip, manipulating its movements to take him, meet each stroke.
I circled his shoulders, pressed hard against him, wrapped a calf around his thigh and I felt it in his frame, in his flesh, he was there, I was there and we were going there together.
And that was when I turned my head and whispered, “I love you, Frey Drakkar.”
He buried himself to the root inside me, let go and I let go, my back arching, my neck arching, my moan deep and low. His strong teeth sunk into the flesh where my neck met my shoulder, his rumbling growl sounding through his teeth, pounding against my skin and my moan turned to a whimper as his arm wrapped around me and closed so tight, he squeezed the breath out of my lungs.
As ever, he was often at his own tasks but these were few when he didn’t have me close. And as our days slid by and with it our time, nothing had cooled, nothing had faded, in fact, everything, including the time we spent alone and naked, heated, grew brighter, more intense.
All this, I told myself, meant Frey had to love me.
He had to.
He just hadn’t told me.
And therefore I hadn’t told him.
And, considering we were again at sea, we were again on the move, we were off to face whatever was next and that weight still pulled at his tone, I wondered if it was because he was waiting for me to say it so he could.
He was a virile, hot, action guy and although he never shied away from demonstrations of affection, both physical and verbal, maybe declaring his deep, abiding (for mine was both so his had to be too) love was a shade too far and he needed me to assure him that these feelings were mutual.
But I was nervous at the thought of putting that out there even though Frey gave me not one, single indication I should be.
Still, I was.
But I shouldn’t be.
Nevertheless, I was.
Shit.
Shit!
I sucked in breath and let the emerald of the sea and the green of the shore fill my vision.
Then I whispered to my husband, “We’re breaking the cardinal rule.”
“The what?”
“The cardinal rule, the most important rule there is, the one you never, ever break,” I explained.
“And what is this important rule we’re breaking, wee Finnie?” Frey asked.
I studied the vista as I answered, “Dad always said, never look back. Always look forward. Always look where you’re going; never waste time on where you’ve been. You’ve been there so you don’t have to take that time and wasting any time, even a breath, is a mistake. Memories can be shared of the good times but they need to be shared while your eyes are to the horizon, faced forward. No matter where we went, when we left, he didn’t let us look back. When I was young, he made a game of it. By the time I grew older, I did it out of habit, never looking back, not even a glance.” I pulled in a soft breath and finished, “And now we’re looking back. Dad would be disappointed.”
I barely stopped speaking before Frey moved me from the railing, turned me toward the helm and I heard him say low, “Thad.”
Thad was at the huge, wooden wheel. He looked over his shoulder at Frey, lifted his chin then looked to me and grinned. I grinned back, he moved away and Frey moved in, positioning me so I was standing with my back leaned into him then his hands were at the wheel and the blue of the cloudless sky meeting the brilliant emerald of the Green Sea with the lushly greened islands rising out of the water The Finnie was flowing passed were all I could see.
Then Frey’s mouth came to my ear. “Better, my wee Finnie?”
I pressed my lips together as my throat clogged because Frey had again, without word, without hesitation, given me exactly what I needed and, receiving it yet again at long last, I made an enormous decision.
I was going to tell my husband I loved him.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, relaxed into him and whispered, “Better, my handsome husband.”
Frey’s head moved so his lips could touch the hair at the side of mine then it was gone but he wasn’t.
As always, his large, strong frame supported my small one.
And together we stared straight ahead at our future.
* * * * *
“Finnie,” Frey called, his voice thick and I tried to focus on him.
I was on my back on his divan in his cabin, my hands moving feverishly over his skin, my legs spread wide, Frey thrusting between them, slow, gentle, his h*ps on a slight slant, my h*ps slanted with them. He was on a forearm in the mattress beside me; his other hand free to roam the skin of my side, belly, ribs and right then it was cupping my breast.
I was close. So damned close.
“I’m close, baby,” I breathed as my gaze locked with his.
“I know, love,” he whispered, his neck bending, his mouth touching mine, gentle, light sweet, he pulled back slightly, “Hold on, stay with me.”
I lifted my hips, he slid in deeper, that felt so f**king good I told him the truth. “I don’t know if I can.”
His h*ps rotated as he slowly slid out then rotated again as he slowly slid back in and I bit my lip, arched my spine and my nails trailed across the skin of his back.
“Stay with me, wee one,” he growled low, exposing he liked it too and just how much. “I want us to cl**ax together.”
Oh God, yes.
I wanted that too. I wanted it bad.
“Okay,” I breathed and his mouth came back to mine, opened and he touched the tip of his tongue to mine as his thumb slid across my hard, oversensitive nipple and I whimpered into his mouth.
“Baby,” I whispered against his lips, that word trembling with agonized pleasure.
He glided out and glided back in. “Stay with me.”
“Frey.”
“Watch me,” he urged, “feel me. You’ll know when to let go. Wait for it, Finnie.”
My h*ps moved with his and the pleasure rolled through me, then again, and again.
Beautiful
Torture.
God, he needed to hurry up!
My hand slid around his chest and up to cup his jaw, my thumb moving to slide over his lower lip as he held my eyes, his heated, his h*ps moving, his c**k stroking deep, his hand gliding along the skin of my ribs and all of it was better than anything I’d ever had, we’d ever had.
Even with adela tea.
I moved my h*ps with his, slid my thumb back over his lip and held his eyes as I whispered a thought that came out of my mouth straight from my heart, “God, you’re beautiful.”
At my words, Frey groaned so deep, I felt it straight up to my throat starting at my sex. He dipped his head, his thrusts going off rhythm, pounding deeper, moving faster, his big hand spanning my hip, manipulating its movements to take him, meet each stroke.
I circled his shoulders, pressed hard against him, wrapped a calf around his thigh and I felt it in his frame, in his flesh, he was there, I was there and we were going there together.
And that was when I turned my head and whispered, “I love you, Frey Drakkar.”
He buried himself to the root inside me, let go and I let go, my back arching, my neck arching, my moan deep and low. His strong teeth sunk into the flesh where my neck met my shoulder, his rumbling growl sounding through his teeth, pounding against my skin and my moan turned to a whimper as his arm wrapped around me and closed so tight, he squeezed the breath out of my lungs.
