Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Elsie could still feel Halvard’s confession lingering in the air between them—the fact that he had spared the boy, the way his voice shook when he admitted how deeply he felt for her.
And how desperately he wanted her.
Now they stood in their chambers, the door shut behind them, the fire burning low and warm. Halvard didn’t touch her at first. He just looked at her—looked as though he was memorizing every detail, every breath, every tremor of emotion crossing her face.
Elsie felt a flutter in her chest—not of nerves, but of tenderness so strong it swelled up and filled the hollow places that had lived inside her for years. She stepped closer, placing her hand over his heart. It thudded under her palm, hard and fast.
“I want you,” she whispered.
The sound Halvard made—low, rough, disbelieving—sent goosebumps racing along her skin.
He cupped her face, brushing his thumb over her cheek as though she were made of something precious. “God, lass, say it again.”
“I want you,” she breathed, feeling the warmth of the words bloom through her like sunlight. It sounded much like I love you.
He kissed her then, neither hungrily, nor with restraint—just honestly, deeply.
It was a kiss that wrapped around her heart and held her still.
She melted into him, lifting her hands to his shoulders.
Halvard loosened his grip only to slide his arms around her waist, gathering her closer, as though he needed her breath against his to believe this was real.
Everything in her went warm, soft, weightless.
They broke apart slowly, their noses brushing. And then Halvard began to undress her, carefully and almost reverently, the way a man handles something he treasures. His fingers trembled slightly as he slid each lace free, as though her willingness unraveled him.
“Tell me if anythin’ feels wrong,” he whispered against her temple. “Anythin’ at all.”
“It won’t,” she whispered, and tugged at the hem of his tunic.
Halvard helped her take it off, revealing broad shoulders marked with scars—the silent map of a life spent protecting others. Elsie traced one with gentle fingers, and Halvard inhaled sharply, his jaw tight, his eyes burning into hers.
“Elsie…” he warned softly, but the warning held no threat; only longing.
Piece by piece, their clothing fell to the floor. And when she stood before him fully bare, she expected to feel shy, exposed, uncertain again, just like the first time.
But Halvard looked at her as though she were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen—just like the first time—and the knot in her stomach eased.
His breath caught audibly. “Saints,” he whispered, almost reverent. “Ye’re incredible.”
Elsie’s cheeks flushed, but instead of hiding, she lifted her chin and touched his cheek. “So are you.”
A faint smile pulled at his lips, and then he kissed her again, slow and deep, guiding her toward the bed.
The furs brushed her legs, soft and warm, and he lowered her onto them with a tenderness that made her eyes sting.
Halvard hovered above her, bracing his weight so he barely touched her, except for the gentle press of his body against hers.
“Elsie,” he mumbled, as though saying her name steadied him. “I want ye. More than I can say. But I want ye tae feel safe more than anythin’.”
Elsie lifted her hand, resting it against the back of his neck, fingers sliding into his hair. “I do. With you, I do.”
“Then I’ll take care o’ ye,” he whispered, lowering himself to kiss along her jaw, down her throat, slow and patient. “I’ll make ye feel good, lass. Tell me what ye like. Tell me when tae stop.”
Her breath hitched as his lips explored her skin, gentle and warm. Elsie arched into him, every nerve awakening to his touch. When his hand slid up her side, his calloused thumb brushing the underside of her breast, she gasped, leaning into the touch.
“Ye like that?” he asked, voice barely more than a breath.
“It’s perfect,” she whispered.
He exhaled shakily, relief and desire mingling, and lowered his mouth to her chest. Every kiss he placed was soft, slow, worshipful. There was no rush, no urgency; only devotion.
Elsie felt herself unraveling under him, each touch building heat low in her belly, each kiss drawing a soft sound from her throat. And Halvard reacted to every sound, every arch of her back, every trembling breath, adjusting, gentling, deepening.
He treated her pleasure like something sacred.
His hand reached between them, finding her opening once more.
And just like the first time he had touched her, Elsie’s body was alight with need, her skin burning hot, feverish.
When he pressed those clever fingers against her sensitive spot, she gasped, the sound rippling between them as pleasure rippled through her entire body.
“An’ this?” he asked with. Devilish grin. “Ye like this?”
“Yes,” Elsie gasped. “Oh, I like it very much, Halvard.”
Halvard leaned closer for a kiss, smiling against her lips. And when those fingers finally breached her, one of them sliding inside her with almost no resistance, slipping past her slick walls, Elsie moaned, the sound reverberating through the room.
“That’s it,” Halvard said softly, the sound of his voice soothing, grounding.
He worked his finger into her, pressing against her sensitive walls, reaching deep for a spot that had stars bursting behind her eyelids.
The more her pressed there, the more that familiar pressure built inside her, so quickly that Elsie was stunned by its force.
Warmth coursed through her, and Halvard pleasured her with such skill that it was as if they were made for each other, already knowing each other’s needs, each other’s desires.
When a second finger joined his efforts, Elsie clamped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from making noise, but Halvard was quick to shake his head.
“I wish tae hear ye,” he said. “Dinnae fash. It’s only us here.”
And Elsie, prompted by his words, allowed herself to be as loud as she wanted, moaning his name again and again as she got closer to her peak.
And then, when Halvard quickened his pace, the flat of his palm pressing against her mound, it only took a few more thrusts of his fingers for her to reach her orgasm, falling apart under his hands.
For a few moments, Halvard only lay there, next to her, whispering sweet nothings into her ear as she came down from her zenith. But Elsie was entirely too aware of the fact that he was not yet satisfied—and neither was she; not completely.
When the last of the aftershocks passed, she turned to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to pull him closer once more. Halvard rolled on top of Elsie with a sigh.
When he settled between her thighs, his forehead rested against hers, his breath hard and uneven.
“Tell me if it hurts, and I will stop.”
Her answer came without hesitation.
“It won’t,” she breathed. “I want you. Only you.”
He kissed her, slow and trembling, and then took himself in hand, giving his length a few pumps. Elsie watched as he guided himself to her entrance and then, with a gentle, slow push, pressed himself inside her.
Elsie gasped, eyes fluttering shut, her fingers gripping his shoulders. It was unfamiliar, a stretch of sensation both startling and intimate, but Halvard stilled instantly.
“I’m here,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “I’ve got ye. Breathe fer me, Elsie.”
She did, slowly. His thumb brushed her cheek, grounding her, and after a moment the discomfort was not so overwhelming anymore—it was breathtaking, yes, but shifting into something warmer, into something she couldn’t help but crave.
She opened her eyes. Halvard was watching her with such devotion that it nearly undid her.
“I’m alright,” she whispered. “You can move.”
Halvard moved carefully, reverently, every motion controlled as if he were afraid she might break. And every time she gasped or sighed or clutched at him, he kissed her—her forehead, her cheek, her mouth—soft praises whispered between breaths.
Soon she was matching his rhythm, her hands gripping his back, her breath coming faster, her heart racing against his.
The drag of his length against her walls was driving her mad with need.
Each thrust of Halvard’s hips presses their bodies closer together, stimulating that bundle of nerves at the top of her folds.
Elsie trembled with every breath, warmth coursing through her body as Halvard thrusted inside her, his hands grabbing anywhere he could reach—her breasts, the dip of her waist, her hips—his eyes wide as he watched her body undulate under his own.
Elsie felt raw, exposed, but in the best way.
Under Halvard’s gaze, she couldn’t help but feel beautiful, wanted—even loved.
There was something so tender about him, even in the chase of his pleasure.
There was something so careful in the way he handled her, as if she was something terribly precious, even as he grabbed her body for his pleasure.
Her breasts swung with every thrust of Halvard’s hips. Her core tightened around him, drawing a curse out of his lips, and Elsie wanted nothing more than to see him come undone—to have him come undone inside her, to feel him fill her to the brim.
“Elsie…” His voice cracked. “God, lass, ye’re perfect.”
She felt the world tilt, his words sweet and overwhelming.
“Halvard… please,” she whispered back, breathless.
Their foreheads pressed together, their bodies moving in unison, a perfect blend of sensation and emotion, heat and tenderness. Elsie felt warmth coil inside her, rising, building, tightening—
And when she broke, when she gasped his name into the hollow of his throat, Halvard followed with a low, shaking groan, burying his face against her neck as he held her tight.
Silence settled around them afterward, warm and breathless and glowing.
Halvard didn’t move, not for a long moment—only brushed soft kisses along her jaw, her cheek, her hairline, the gesture so tender that warmth filled Elsie.
It was a different kind of warmth from the one of her need, from that agency to have him.
This was something else entirely, something she was afraid to name, even to herself.
Eventually, Halvard rolled onto his side and gathered her against him, his chest pressed to her back, one arm draped over her stomach protectively.
“Ye’re mine now,” he murmured into her hair—not possessively, but with wonder, with honesty.
Elsie let out a soft laugh. “I was yours before this too, you know.”
“Aye, but now ye’re truly mine,” Halvard insisted, even if to Elsie it didn’t make much sense. “And I’m yers.”
Elsie closed her eyes, smiling softly to herself
“Yes,” she whispered. “Mine.”
He tightened his arm around her, his breath warm on her neck. And as he fell asleep behind her, his breathing soft, slow, Elsie held onto his arm, thinking to herself that even if they didn’t know what the future would hold, all that mattered was for them to be together.
To belong to each other.