Why the hell had he done that?
Feeling the softness of breasts pressed against him was agony. His cock hardened, and he made it all the worse by caressing her arm and sinking his fingers into her long hair.
“That’s nice,” she mumbled into his chest. “Feels good.”
He should go.
Right now.
He should stand, settle her against the pillow and never think of doing something so stupid like being this close to her ever again. Breena was too much of a temptation. Especially because she’d made it clear she’d rather stitch up a pile of socks before crawling between the sheets with him. Oh, Breena desired him, but she didn’t want him. And for some reason, desire wasn’t enough.
He should go.
Right now.
Breena wrapped her arm around his waist, seeking his warmth. Seeking him.
Maybe he could just lay here with her for a few minutes more.
CHAPTER EIGHT
BREENA WOKE UP WARM and so, so comfortable. Which was completely ruined by the glowering, accusing brown glare coming from Osborn. With no berserker change in sight, the rage tightening his face had to be all him.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“You invaded my dream last night.”
She scrambled away from him, shaking her head. “No, you told me to stay away.”
“You were there. Kissing me. Touching me. Feel me, Breena. Feel what your dream did to my body. Give me your hand.”
It sounded like an order, but it was still a choice. What had she done to him? Curiosity…it had ruined many a princess. It would probably ruin her, too. She placed her hand into Osborn’s outstretched palm.
She met his gaze as he tugged her hand downward. “Feel me. Feel what you do to me.”
Do not… Did.
He placed her hand between his legs. “Feel how hard my cock is for you.”
The word sounded lustful. Sensual. Lascivious, and she wanted more and more. He wrapped her fingers around the hard ridge of him. Her body got that hollow, achy feeling again. She needed something, and knew Osborn could give it to her.
“Touch me like you did last night,” he urged, his voice barely more than an aching groan.
“Show me,” she told him, wanting to learn how to give him pleasure. How to keep that aching sound for her in his voice.
“Slide your hand under my pants. Yes, that’s it.”
Her fingers smoothed over the hard ripples of the muscles lining his stomach, down over the hair at the base of him. With a tiny thrill, she gathered Osborn’s cock into her hand. He was long, and very hard, and yet his skin was smooth. His muscles tensed as she explored the length of him.
“That’s it. More. Like last night. Up and down.”
Breena walked her fingers up and down the length of him.
“You were perfect in my dream. As if you knew exactly how I wanted it before I even told you.”
With another groan, Osborn stilled her hand.
“Did I hurt you?” she asked alarmed.
He gave a strangled little laugh. The room was filled with the harshness of his breathing. He opened his eyes. “It really was my own dream. That’s why you knew exactly how I wanted your touch.”
She nodded, and waved her free hand. “See, I didn’t use my powers. There’s no trace magic.”
“What?” he asked as he slowly removed her hand from his body.
“There’d be some kind of residue, an energy all around us.” She felt her face drain of color. “Oh, no. I used my magic at the lake when we fought those blood magic scouts. I have to get there.”
Breena shoved her feet into her shoes, and raced for the door, Osborn a step behind her. Once outside he took the lead, running along the path until the lake came into sight. She waved her hands, alarm coursing through her. “It’s still here. Not much, but I can still feel it. Those monsters will be able to follow it to us. To the cottage. To the village. That’s how they probably found me in the first place.”
“Can you disguise it? Make it go away?”
“I never learned how. My powers weren’t this strong back at El—er, home. My energy came from fear and anger. We’ll have to blanket it with something good. Happiness.”
She glanced over at Osborn, his face bleak.
“This is going to be tough.” Not much happiness there.
“Come here, Breena.”
Why was he always asking her to go to him? She was getting tired of being the one to do the moving. She shook her head. “If you want me, you come to me.” Besides, she had to discover a solution to this problem.
Breena realized what a huge mistake she’d made by offering that kind of challenge to her warrior. Osborn’s eyes darkened. His lower lip grew more full, and curved into something that might be considered a smile on anyone else, but on him, it could only be considered predatory.
“I will,” he told her, his voice filled with determined intent. His steps toward her were driven and steadfast. He never dropped her gaze.
Don’t back up. Don’t back up.
He only stopped when the softness of her breasts grazed his broad chest.
“Do you know what else you did to me in that dream I had with you last night?”
“It wasn’t me doing it.”
“It will be.” Osborn’s thumb traced a path along her lower lip. An overwhelming urge to lick his skin, taste him, took her over. She felt hollow inside. Achy.
“Your nipples did exactly what they are doing now. Hardening. Begging for my touch. My mouth.”
She shook her head. “It wasn’t me.”
“It will be,” he promised again against her lips. His mouth took over, his tongue pushed inside and she met him with her own. Twining and dueling again and again. She couldn’t breathe. Her heart raced. Breena grabbed his shoulders, needing the solid strength of him to remain steady.
She’d never felt this way before. Never responded to anything with so much intensity or reacted so strongly, hungrily. Osborn made her feel alive and warm and grasping for something more.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“You said we needed to change the energy in this place. We are.” She so wanted that to make sense. To continue what they were doing.
“Take your shirt off for me, Breena. I hate seeing you in something that ugly.”
Osborn was so big and strong. As a berserker, he could take anything he wanted. Even her.
That’s why he always asked. Asked her to go to him. Her warrior didn’t want to take; he wanted what would be freely given.
And right now he wanted her shirt. Off.
No man had ever seen her undressed and exposed in that way. Osborn had plenty of opportunity two days ago in this place while they were both naked and battling a creature of blood.
But this was different.
Freely given. Breena gripped the hem of her shirt and then paused. What if he didn’t like what he saw? If he found her form undesirable? She fiddled with a loose thread on the borrowed tunic. Of what she’d observed in the castle, the knights never complained of a woman’s naked body, always clamored to see more. And Osborn hadn’t looked away in that secluded clearing outside of the village.
He’d wanted more.
After stealing a deep breath, she grabbed the bottom of the shirt and tugged it over her head. She tossed the garment out of the way of the water, and straightened her back. Almost daring him to dislike what he saw.
His gaze lowered, and his face tightened with longing. “You are so beautiful,” he said, his voice filled with a kind of agonized need. He cupped her breasts, molding them to his hands. His thumbs caressed the tips into tight points. With one arm, he gripped her hip and hauled her off her feet, up against his body. The hard ridge of him, heated and full, surged against the bare skin of her stomach. He ducked his head, capturing her breast into his mouth.