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shaft then back up again. His breathing picks up with each stroke I make. Mine quickens to match his. My fingers work at my nipples as my hands press my breasts tighter against him. His cock grows impossibly harder, the tip swelling. I rock up and down over his shaft, moving faster. A cry tears from him as his seed spills onto my neck. Muscles low in my body convulse in response to his pleasure as I cum along with him.
    The snarky comment on my tongue drowns in a wave of surprise. Never has bringing a man pleasure brought me to the brink and pushed me over as well. The implications of such a thing concern me.
    Grím’s cock slides out from between my breasts as he eases himself back into the water before me. Those brilliant blue eyes of his are filled with so much more than sated desire. They are filled with me . He cradles my head in his hands and presses his lips to mine. Our tongues dance together languidly. Despite the cum that covers my chest, he wraps an arm around me and pulls me tight against him. When our mouths finally draw apart a smile beams across his face.
    A long sigh eases from him. “I’ve never experienced anythin’ like that,” he says.
    My eyebrows raise. “You’ve never had a woman go down on you?”
    “I have. But not like that. I’ve never trusted anyone enough for that kind of abandonment,” he says in a voice soft with vulnerability.
    Everything in me screams at me to pull away, to run from this man. I can’t afford to lose focus, and he is definitely affecting my focus. Yet my heart refuses to let my body listen to my mind. Instead of pulling away, I pull him down for a kiss.
     

 

    The midday sun shines upon us from a cloudless sky. I’ve long since tucked my fur cloak into my saddlebags. Though it is a comfortable silence filled only with the clop of our horses’ hooves upon the ground, I grow weary of it. There are things I want to know, things I must know.
    “So what is it that takes a man like you into such a dangerous contest?” I ask.
    Grím’s lips turn up, eyes sparkling. “A man like me?”
    Reaching across the distance between our plodding horses, I kick his leg lightly. “You know what I mean. You asked me the same, turnabout is fair play.”
    He slowly licks his lips. My eyes follow the sight of his tongue as if drawn like lightning to a storm. “Is that what this is, play?”
    I make a sound close to a moan. “Some of it, yes. But I’m serious, I want to know why a good man like you is throwing in with bad men.”
    The playfulness drains from him and he casts his gaze forward. “I’m not throwing in with them. Like you, I’m hunting one of them.”
    Desperate as I am to know, I wait for him to continue when he’s ready. Several moments pass.
    “Me mother was murdered just because she is Sidhe, Alfhiem. Me father died tryin’ to protect her. I wasn’t there to help them,” he says in a thick voice.
    I reach across the distance between us and touch his arm, just below the blue tattoo. “I’m so sorry Grím. We’ll get these men, I swear it.” The ferocity of my voice makes him look over at me.
    “Thank ye,” he says softly.
     “What does he look like, this man you’re hunting?” I ask.
    Darkness clouds Grím’s eyes. “I have no idea. I only know his name—it was me ma’s dying word. Steinn.”
    Bumps rise all along my body, making me wish I still had my cloak on. For a moment my tongue is immobile. My fingers clench into a fist filled with my horse’s mane.
    “What is it? What’s wrong?” Grím asks, eyes studying me with an intensity that shakes me from my stupor.
    “That’s the name of the man I’m hunting, the one who murdered my father,” I manage to say.
    Grím sucks in a sharp breath. “What do you know about him?” he asks.
    Bitterness coats my tongue. I have to swallow before I can answer. “He was my father’s best friend. They sailed together as young men. He is harsh and unforgiving of those different from himself.