Page 116 of Viking

That’s all it takes.

He dips his head and sucks a nipple through the lace, slow and deliberate, his tongue tracing lazy circles before biting down gently. My back arches, a moan slipping from my lips.

His lips leave a trail down my stomach as he hooks a finger beneath the bodysuit. His eyes flick up to mine, checking always checking—and I nod, barely breathing.

The fabric slips away inch by inch to give him access. He moves with veneration, like I’m something he doesn’t want to rush.

And then his mouth is on my thigh, kissing the sensitive skin there, working his way higher until I forget how to think.

“Logan—”

“I know,” he whispers, voice rough. “I’ve got you.”

And when his mouth finally finds me, when his tongue slides over that aching, desperate part of me, I know he means it.

He’s not just touching me.

He’s claiming me.

Stuart, Florida

November 9, 2024

2050

Logan

Lila’s lace bodysuit leaves absolutely nothing to my imagination—and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. She’s soaked, the evidence of her arousal darkening the fabric when my fingers finally slide down and press against her. My brain short-circuits at the sight of her like this: writhing, desperate, begging. This image—her spread out beneath me, wearing black lace and looking like sin incarnate—is the one I’ll cling to when I’m deployed, when the world goes cold and distant.

Her body is pure perfection—soft, feminine curves wrapped in grace and strength. She’s tiny, but she’s unbreakable. The way she holds herself makes it impossible to forget who she is.

Her long, dark hair fans out across the bed like a halo. Her skin glows, smooth and warm under my touch, and I can’t stop myself from staring at her collarbone, the curve of her neck, the dip just above her chest. Places I’ve kissed a hundred times, and still they ruin me.

And then there’s the way she looks at me…like I’m hers. Like she sees something in me worth keeping.

She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

And somehow, she loves me.

I slide my tongue along her inner thigh, teasing just shy of where she wants me most, and she lets out this frustrated little noise that makes me grin against her skin.

“Logan,” she gasps.

“Say it again.”

She blinks. “What?”

“My name.” I press a teasing kiss to the inside of her thigh.

She leans forward, propping herself on her elbows. Her jaw tightens, but her lips curve into that same downright dangerous smile that wrecked me earlier. “Possessive looks good on you.”

I finally give in, burying my mouth between her legs and dragging a long, slow stroke of my tongue over her making her cry out.

“Logan.”

There it is. Breathless. Desperate. Mine.

I grip her thighs and hold her right where I want her, tongue working in slow circles. She’s already falling apart, writhing under me, hand clenching in my hair like she’s barely holding on.