Warrior's Heart

Chapter Twenty

Thorin woke with the first light of dawn, which was something, considering dawn wasn't far off when he and Arielle finally fell asleep. But, there he was, lying in an immense bed, with gauzy white hangings and linens, alongside the most beautiful woman in Middle Earth. 

His wife.

She lay on her side, her back to him, one hand tucked beneath her cheek, the linens drawn up to her shoulder. Her fair skin was so pale, she almost blended with the linen. Her dark hair streamed across the pillows, glinting almost blue in the early morning light. 

His wife.

There were no words to describe how he felt about the woman asleep beside him. To say he loved her simply didn't quite do those feelings justice. In a very short time, Arielle of Mirkwood had become everything to him. 

He found it difficult to believe she was with child. He'd come to know every inch of her wonderful body over these last weeks, knew every curve and slope, let his fingers travel along her soft, flawless skin, let his lips graze from her temples to the soles of her feet. She was lithe and nimble, and perfect and everything he had always dreamed of finding in a woman. Even now, he let his hand slip gently along her belly. No rise. No bump. No indication whatsoever that she was pregnant. And yet, when he let his hand rest on that flat expanse between her hips, he'd swear he felt something. He couldn't describe it, and it was probably only because he knew she would never lie to him about something of this magnitude, but he felt it. His son. His daughter. It mattered not to him which Arielle gave him. 

She didn't stir as he let his fingers wander up, over her belly, to trace the outer curve of her left breast. She'd been blessed with a perfect pair of breasts, no doubt. Firm, just enough to fill his hands, full but not overly so. 

Just perfect.

Her sigh rose like a mist, soft and wispy, and he changed directions, smiling as her lips went softly slack, her breath hitching as he slid his hand along the curve of her hip, along her thigh. Her skin was so soft, it begged to be touched and he was powerless to resist its whispered temptation. No woman had ever ensnared him the way his princess had, and when she sighed again and stretched, she arched into him and the gentle contact set his blood smoldering. 

He bent to press his lips into the slope of her neck, while his fingers trailed along behind her left knee. She shivered against him, and he smiled, letting the tip of his tongue just brush against her pulse. He repeated the motion, higher this time, skimming his hand back up over her hip, and down to press flat against her belly. 

Arielle sighed again, and he moved up, to her ear, catching the small lobe between gentle teeth briefly before tracing the shell of her arched ear with the tip of his tongue. The hand on her belly slid lower, into warm curls that were already damp. 

"Are you playing possum, love?" he murmured, his fingers sliding into the slick heat. "Do you wish me to stop and let you go back to sleep?"

"Do I look mad?" came her murmured response as she reached an arm back to drape about his neck, to thread her fingers through his hair. He loved the feel of when she did that, loved the way her fingernails felt on his scalp, the way she twisted her fingers into his waves, twisted and held on and tugged ever so gently when she was enjoying whatever it was he was doing to her. 

He carefully eased his right arm beneath her, smiling as she lifted herself to help him out, and how her breath hitched when his hand came up to cup her right breast. He kneaded it gently as he went back to kissing his way along her neck. 

Her legs parted just enough to allow his hand between them and when he slid a finger inside her, she breathed, "Oh..." ever so softly. "Thorin..."

Her hips moved against him, her eyes closed, her teeth worrying her bottom lip in a way that fired his arousal and made him already ache to be inside her. But, he didn't want to rush. It was the morning after their wedding and life would catch up with them soon enough. He wanted to make this last as long as he possibly could.