The cool air of the study raised fine hairs along the bare nape of her neck, goosebumps racing over the newly exposed skin of her thighs and the soft curve of her backside. Fresh shivers followed, shivers that had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the man behind her.
Circe felt the weight of his stare like a physical caress. It traced every inch of her as if he were memorizing her all over again, claiming her without a single touch. She heard the quiet rustle of fabric as Ragnar loosened his breeches, and each small sound tightened something low and aching inside her, winding her anticipation higher and higher.
She pressed her palms harder against the oak desk, fingers curling slightly into the polished edge. Her breath came shallow, unsteady.
Then he stepped close again.
The blunt head of his cock nudged at her entrance and a broken sound slipped from her throat before she could stop it.
