“I’m done,” he rasped. “I’m done. You?”
Jerandra was distance-athlete thin, nearly fragile were she not so damned tall, her skin obsidian and sheathed in perspiration despite the chill. She threw her hair back from her face as best she could, but a good bit stuck to the sweat. “Thunder and rain,” she agreed, and together they rolled off the woman in the bed beneath them.
“How about you?” Renaldo asked. Her name was Valyn, dressmaker to Rogar’s wife, and she was northern, unique out here, fair-haired with soft eyes and astonishing t**s. She smiled up at him.
“Three in a bed is a good winter,” Valyn giggled. The world outside railed at the walls in answer.
“Holy s**t,” Renaldo groaned, slipping in between them both. s*x with Jerandra smelled like cherry Nyquil, and it made him want to ra
