Read Online Avelynn: The Edge of Faith by Marissa Campbell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Marissa Campbell
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and water sloshed over the edge. I blinked, confused, uncertain of my surroundings. I must have fallen asleep.
“Avelynn?” Alrik called from outside.
The woman stood behind me, her hand gripping the comb. I nodded, and she bustled to the door, releasing the lock.
Alrik ducked under the lintel, his frame filling the doorway. He stepped aside, encouraging the woman to collect her things and go. She assessed me, her face an image of shock and disapproval at my imprudence that a man should enter my chambers whilst I reclined, naked, in the bath. Decorum be damned. I smiled my thanks, expectant. She shook her head, huffed, and grabbed my washing before scuttling out the door. Alrik replaced the lock.
“I brought food.” He set a platter filled with breads, cheeses, and roasted meat on the table and stalked closer.
“Have you found a suitable place for the ritual?” I asked.
“I have. I am in the process of acquiring horses and supplies to see us through till morning.” He stood beside the tub and gazed inside. A smile spread across his face. A blush stole across mine. “Has she washed you?”
The deep thrum of his voice stirred more than the surface of the water. I was suddenly famished, though it had little to do with sustenance. “No.”
He lifted the sponge. “May I?”
I nodded, my mouth parched of an answer.
He ladled out the soap, squeezing and working the paste into the myriad of holes before dipping the sponge into the water. Sudsy bubbles trickled to the surface as he lifted it back out. “Stand for me.”
Gripping the sides, I rose out of the water, conscious of his heated gaze. He stood behind me and brushed the hair from my shoulder. Fingertips trailed down my neck, and the sponge lighted against my skin. It had an odd texture. The fibers, slightly coarse, invigorated my skin, while the soap glided over my body, slippery and smooth. His fastidious attention laved my arms and back until his focus shifted. It lingered on my backside, and his free hand cupped and squeezed. The sponge dipped lower, poised to slide between my thighs. His advance halted. I inhaled sharply as yearning pooled just beyond his reach.
“Face me.”
Not what I had in mind, but I submitted, and the sponge swept across hip, and waist, working its way down to my belly. For a breath, it hovered below my navel then swept lower, riding the edge of pleasure promised. My legs quivered, and longing ignited my body. I needed that sponge to dip a fraction more. He was so close. I shifted my weight from one leg to the other. It was like an itch I couldn’t scratch.
“Hold still or the washing will take longer.”
“Alrik, please.”
His mouth tightened into a firm line, and his eyes brooked no exceptions. He was a warrior, a leader, and he commanded respect. With the flick of his wrist, he’d killed a man to protect me. He was dangerous and feral. An ardent force coursed through him, and I was drawn to that power. Nothing stops a Viking from getting what he wants.
Alrik was thorough with the sponge, his persistence in avoiding the areas I longed to be touched unyielding. His dogged pursuit of evasion followed a tortuous path under my breasts, up between them, out along my collar bones, and down my ribs at the side. Never once did he brush a nipple, both of which were achingly hard.
“Foot,” he said, ignoring my whimpering completely.
I frowned at him.
He pointed to the side of the tub.
Resigned, I lifted my leg, resting my foot at waist height. He scrubbed my heel and toes, sliding the sponge up my leg then back down. Each arch came torturously close to my center.
“Other foot.”
I acquiesced, and he repeated the process, sweeping and rubbing until my skin buzzed, reacting to the merest breath of pressure.
I shivered. The hearth crackled softly, but the heat only reached within a small radius. Had I been fully clothed, the fire would have been sufficient. As I stood there naked, water dripping from my body, the
“Avelynn?” Alrik called from outside.
The woman stood behind me, her hand gripping the comb. I nodded, and she bustled to the door, releasing the lock.
Alrik ducked under the lintel, his frame filling the doorway. He stepped aside, encouraging the woman to collect her things and go. She assessed me, her face an image of shock and disapproval at my imprudence that a man should enter my chambers whilst I reclined, naked, in the bath. Decorum be damned. I smiled my thanks, expectant. She shook her head, huffed, and grabbed my washing before scuttling out the door. Alrik replaced the lock.
“I brought food.” He set a platter filled with breads, cheeses, and roasted meat on the table and stalked closer.
“Have you found a suitable place for the ritual?” I asked.
“I have. I am in the process of acquiring horses and supplies to see us through till morning.” He stood beside the tub and gazed inside. A smile spread across his face. A blush stole across mine. “Has she washed you?”
The deep thrum of his voice stirred more than the surface of the water. I was suddenly famished, though it had little to do with sustenance. “No.”
He lifted the sponge. “May I?”
I nodded, my mouth parched of an answer.
He ladled out the soap, squeezing and working the paste into the myriad of holes before dipping the sponge into the water. Sudsy bubbles trickled to the surface as he lifted it back out. “Stand for me.”
Gripping the sides, I rose out of the water, conscious of his heated gaze. He stood behind me and brushed the hair from my shoulder. Fingertips trailed down my neck, and the sponge lighted against my skin. It had an odd texture. The fibers, slightly coarse, invigorated my skin, while the soap glided over my body, slippery and smooth. His fastidious attention laved my arms and back until his focus shifted. It lingered on my backside, and his free hand cupped and squeezed. The sponge dipped lower, poised to slide between my thighs. His advance halted. I inhaled sharply as yearning pooled just beyond his reach.
“Face me.”
Not what I had in mind, but I submitted, and the sponge swept across hip, and waist, working its way down to my belly. For a breath, it hovered below my navel then swept lower, riding the edge of pleasure promised. My legs quivered, and longing ignited my body. I needed that sponge to dip a fraction more. He was so close. I shifted my weight from one leg to the other. It was like an itch I couldn’t scratch.
“Hold still or the washing will take longer.”
“Alrik, please.”
His mouth tightened into a firm line, and his eyes brooked no exceptions. He was a warrior, a leader, and he commanded respect. With the flick of his wrist, he’d killed a man to protect me. He was dangerous and feral. An ardent force coursed through him, and I was drawn to that power. Nothing stops a Viking from getting what he wants.
Alrik was thorough with the sponge, his persistence in avoiding the areas I longed to be touched unyielding. His dogged pursuit of evasion followed a tortuous path under my breasts, up between them, out along my collar bones, and down my ribs at the side. Never once did he brush a nipple, both of which were achingly hard.
“Foot,” he said, ignoring my whimpering completely.
I frowned at him.
He pointed to the side of the tub.
Resigned, I lifted my leg, resting my foot at waist height. He scrubbed my heel and toes, sliding the sponge up my leg then back down. Each arch came torturously close to my center.
“Other foot.”
I acquiesced, and he repeated the process, sweeping and rubbing until my skin buzzed, reacting to the merest breath of pressure.
I shivered. The hearth crackled softly, but the heat only reached within a small radius. Had I been fully clothed, the fire would have been sufficient. As I stood there naked, water dripping from my body, the
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