Page 41 of Truly, Madly Viking

Leave be."

She realized that he wasn't ready to share his grief yet... whatever that grief was. "You've got to let me up, Joe. If anyone saw us, I could be in big trouble. You, too, for that matter. Remember the contract you signed with your X mark?"

"Words! Nothing but words! You gainsay me at every turn, my lady. How long do you think I will allow you to hold me off?"

"Let me up," was her only response.

At first it appeared as if he would balk, but then he said, "I will release you if you but grant me one token."

"And that would be?" she asked with a small laugh.

"A kiss."

"A kiss?"

"Yea... a good kiss."

"You said you don't like kisses."

"I thought we already cleared up that misunderstanding. I have changed my mind... leastways, with you.

Besides, I doubt you would agree if I'd suggested a good swiving."

"Not if it's what I think it is." This conversation is totally out-of-bounds. I am totally out-of-bounds.

He smiled... another of those smiles that parted his lips and exposed his white teeth, but did not reach his eyes. "It is. But you should know that I give good swives."

"You also give good kisses."

"I do?" he said, inordinately pleased. "And with so little practice. Imagine how good I will be when we have kissed a hundred times or so."

"A hun-hundred?" she stammered. "You said one kiss."

"For now," he murmured against her lips. "One good kiss for now to hold me over till next time."

"Joe, there can't be a next—"

Her words were cut off with the soft caress of his firm lips against hers. Back and forth, back and forth, he rubbed till she was pliant and willing. Only then did his kiss turn into a hungry, punishing, sweet torture, an exercise in eroticism. He shaped her lips with his, then pressed hard. When his tongue thrust into her mouth, she moaned, then moaned again when it began an in and-out rhythm that caused her nipples to peak and hot liquid to pool between her legs.

Maggie went delirious with need, something she had never done in all her thirty-two years. She would die if this kiss went on any longer. She would die if it stopped.

His hands were everywhere fondling her breasts, skimming her hips, cupping her buttocks and rocking her against his erection.

Erection! Maggie's eyes flew open, and it was as if she stood above the writhing bodies on the bed.

When had her legs spread wide and wrapped themselves about his hips? When had he begun pounding

against the apex of her thighs, mimicking the sex act? Good Lord! Maggie shoved hard against his chest, and because he was caught unawares, she was able to slip out from under him and stagger to the door, where she pressed her forehead against the cool glass and panted for breath.

Behind her, she heard a string of unbroken words in a foreign tongue, which she assumed were swear words. They dwindled down eventually to silence.

Finally, when she had calmed down, Maggie flicked on the light switch, and turned.

Jorund sat on the edge of the bed, his arms braced on his widespread knees, breathing heavily. He stared at her with barely suppressed anger. "You will bend to my will one day," he said, and he was serious. "Your days are numbered."

"This will never happen between us again," she disagreed in a shaky voice, rubbing her fingers across her kiss-swollen lips.

He started to laugh then, and couldn't seem to stop.