Selected for Sport Ch. 20

Xanir looked down at her, smiling. "Alanna, you're my wife. You can negotiate."

She narrowed her eyes speculatively. He laughed.

"Ok, if I promise to rest now, when I wake will you promise to -," She halted, colour flooding her cheeks as she looked around at the backs of the bodyguards yards away.

Xanir's eyes were gleaming, intrigued. Her heart hitched.

"Promise what?" he murmured, carrying her into the shade of their tent, the sides vented with a light gauzy material to allow the breeze through.

"In your underground room, that fresco beside the halberds," Alanna whispered, cheeks scarlet as she glanced up into his gleaming eyes and swiftly looked away again.

"I'm sure I can find some soft rope," he agreed solemnly, eyes dancing.

"But they will hear," she protested, eyes flickering to the vents in the tent walls. "You promised."

"I'm very good at gagging you too, remember?"

Alanna pressed her burning face into his chest, muttering, "Now I definitely can't relax," as he lowered her to the bed.

"A good husband nurtures his wife," quoted Xanir smiling, sliding his weight over her and pinning her wrists over her head. "I will relax you."

He stopped her retort with his mouth.

The End.

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