21 BY A THREAD

FINN HAD OPENED her up in such a vulnerable position that heat now prickled Astrid's skin, a flush sweeping up from her belly to her chest, throat, and cheeks.

This was indecent—as was the way he now stared at what lay between her parted thighs—yet there was a wicked part of her that welcomed the impropriety.

The look on Finn's face right now was almost feral. His lips were parted, and he was breathing hard as if he'd been running. However, she caught a glimmer of tenderness in his eyes as well, and it made her trust him.

Trust him?

Aye, somehow, over the past days, her attitude toward him had changed. His revelation about Maggie had confused her—and she was still confused—yet their kiss on the beach had revealed that, underneath the loathing, she was wildly attracted to him.

An attraction that shivered in the air every time their gazes met afterward.

However, Astrid had no more time to dwell on the significance of what they were doing, or the reasons for it, for Finn lowered his face between her thighs and licked her—right there .

Astrid gasped, both scandalized and thrilled by his act. She must have been living under a rock her whole life, for she'd had no idea that lovers did such things to each other. She certainly hadn't heard servants whispering about this .

Finn licked her again before he dove in, devouring her sex with a single-minded determination that made Astrid jolt and shudder with shock.

An instant later, delicious pleasure began to throb and pulse where his tongue and lips worked. Astrid let her head fall back against the chair, her eyes fluttering shut .

The Saints forgive her, she'd had no idea it was possible to feel this good.

She started to tremble then, while Finn continued, relentless. The moments slid by, and tension began to gather in the cradle of her hips, coiling and drawing tight, as if she was edging toward something.

His tongue flicked a sensitive spot nestled within the petals of her sex, and Astrid's body jerked of its own accord. Her eyes snapped open, and she curved forward, her gaze lowering to where he still devoured her.

"Oh, God," she gasped, as a tide rose inside her. "What are ye doing?"

Finn didn't respond. She wasn't even sure he'd heard her, for his attention was wholly focused between her thighs.

Watching him tipped her over the brink. Her trembling deepened into a full-body shudder, a reaction she couldn't seem to stop. Finn focused on that tender pearl of flesh between her thighs, his tongue swirling and flicking until Astrid unraveled.

Waves of ecstasy thrummed through her loins, making her writhe and buck against his mouth. And all the while, Finn kept up his sensual torture, wringing every last sobbed gasp out of her.

In the aftermath, Astrid collapsed, sweaty and panting in the chair. Her body felt like a puddle of melted tallow. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't have stood up.

Breathing hard too, Finn rocked back on his heels.

Astrid's gaze slid down from his flushed face, over his heaving chest, to where a large erection now tented his braies. A damp patch had appeared there, spreading as she watched it.

A rush of wet heat pulsed deep in her womb at the sight of his excitement.

Glancing down, following her gaze, Finn grimaced. "I should have realized that might happen," he rasped.

"Let me help ye," Astrid whispered, pushing herself up from where she'd sagged in the chair. She reached for him then, desperate to unlace his braies and see his engorged, leaking rod for herself. However, to her surprise, Finn shook his head and moved back, out of reach.

"No, lass," he said huskily. "Once ye start touching me there, the self-control that I'm hanging onto by a thread will snap … and the next thing will be that I'm buried to the hilt inside ye." He cleared his throat then. "I will not ruin ye."

Another rush of wild need pulsed through Astrid's core. Hades, she knew she was being a reckless fool, yet she wanted nothing else than to see Finn's self-restraint shatter. She wanted to be thoroughly ruined .

Nonetheless, he'd said no, and she sensed that to push things would be folly.

And so, she shakily pushed down her skirts and hauled herself upright in the chair, trying to ignore her craving for him and the gentle throb in her womb.

The fog of lust that had addled her wits was clearing now, and she understood the wisdom of his words. They had to stop before things spiraled out of control.

Finn pushed himself off the floor and rose to his feet above her.

Trying not to stare at his groin, Astrid looked up at him. Her chest constricted then when she glimpsed the stricken look in his eyes. Tension vibrated off his lean frame as he moved away from her and walked stiffly toward the door that separated their chambers.

"Bar the door between our rooms tonight, Astrid," he ordered roughly. "And I shall see ye at dawn."

Stepping into his chamber, Finn pushed the door closed and sagged against it.

His heart was pounding so hard that dizziness closed in on him and nausea bit his throat.

His body, his very soul, cried out to return to that chamber.

Christ, how he wanted Astrid Maclean on her knees in front of him, greedily sucking his rod. How he wanted her naked on her back while he plowed her senseless, their bodies slick with sweat. He wanted to hear her cries echo high into the rafters. He wanted to lose himself in her.

He'd never yearned for anything more.

And yet he would not, could not.

It wasn't just a matter of taking her maidenhead either. Finn wasn't that noble—Astrid was willing, and he wasn't made of stone. No, that was an easy excuse, but it wasn't the real reason he'd pulled back .

While he was pleasuring her, he remained in control. Even so, he'd been on the brink of losing it when she reached for him.

But he couldn't let his fa?ade crumble. The indifference he'd cloaked himself in over the years was an old friend, and he didn't want to shed it.

His survival depended on it.

Vulnerability was for fools.

His parents had taught him that. Maggie had taught him that. And Astrid herself had done so too.

Accompanying Astrid on this mission had been folly from the beginning. They'd spent too much time together—and somehow, he'd gone from hating the woman to wanting her again.

Only now, he wasn't a callow youth.

These days, he kept himself emotionally distant from others, and that was the way he liked it.

Lifting a hand to his face, Finn saw it was shaking. Shite . He was a mess, and his cods were still throbbing piteously. He glanced down, his mouth thinning as he viewed the wet patch at his groin. The wood in his braies still hadn't subsided.

Aye, his self-control astounded him. A weaker man would be bollocks deep inside Astrid right now.

Finn clenched his jaw. He didn't feel like a hero though—quite the opposite.