#DailyLines #OUTLANDER #Book1 #infatuation #thevirtuesofnakedgingermen And now. Now I had been forced to act on it. And God only knew what harm might be done by that action. But there was no turning back from this point. He lay at ease, sprawled on his stomach. The sun glinted off his red mane and lit the tiny soft hairs that crested his spine, running down to the reddish-gold fuzz that dusted his buttocks and thighs, and deepened into the thicket of soft auburn curls that showed briefly between his spread legs. I sat up, admiring the long legs, with the smooth line of muscling that indented the thigh from hip to knee, and another that ran from knee to long, elegant foot. The bottoms of his feet were smooth and pink, slightly callused from going barefoot. My fingers ached, wanting to trace the line of his small, neat ear and the blunt angle of his jaw. Well, I thought, the action _had_ been taken, and it was far past the time for restraint. Nothing I did now could make matters worse, for either of us. I reached out and gently touched him. He slept very lightly. With a suddenness that made me jump, he flipped over, bracing himself on his elbows as though to leap to his feet. Seeing me, he relaxed, smiling. “Madam, you have me at a disadvantage.” He made a very creditable courtly bow, for a man stretched at full length in a patch of ferns, wearing nothing but a few dappled splotches of sunlight, and I laughed. The smile stayed on his face, but it altered as he looked at me, naked in the ferns. His voice was suddenly husky. “In fact, Madam, you have me at your mercy.” “Have I, then?” I said softly. He didn’t move, as I reached out once more and drew my hand slowly down his cheek and neck, over the gleaming slope of his shoulder, and down. He didn’t move, but he closed his eyes. “Dear Holy Lord,” he said. He drew his breath in sharply. “Don’t worry,” I said. “It doesn’t _have_ to be rough.” “Thank God for small mercies.” “Keep still.” His fingers dug deeply into the crumbling earth, but he obeyed. “Please,” he said after a time. Glancing up, I could see that his eyes were open now. “No,” I said, enjoying myself. He closed his eyes again. “You’ll pay for this,” he said a short time later. A fine dew of sweat shone on the straight bridge of his nose. “Really?” I said. “What are you going to do?” The tendons stood out in this forearms as he pressed his palms against the earth, and he spoke with an effort, as though his teeth were clenched. “I don’t know, but…by Christ and St. Agnes…I will…th-think of s-something! God! Please!” “All right,” I said, releasing him. And I uttered a small shriek as he rolled onto me, pinning me against the ferms. “Your turn,” he said, with considerable satisfaction.
Posted on: Fri, 12 Jul 2013 09:23:23 +0000
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