Valhalla Virus by Nick Harrow (best management books of all time TXT) 📕

of Bridget’s thighs to puddle around her ankles. She stepped out of them and into the shower, her mouth slightly open, coils of steam rising from her skin. Her nails had become the same bone white as her eyes and hair, and they drew a hiss of surprise from Gunnar when she pressed their tips against his skin.

“You’re freezing.” He said, but she pressed a finger to his lips.

“Shhh,” she insisted. “Let the cold do its magic.”

She cupped his face in her hands, so gently all Gunnar felt was the cold soaking into his flesh and bones. He shivered, but Bridget’s touch stole away his pain and spurred the hamingja to do its work faster. Gunnar felt his wounds closing, his bones knitting, in the space between every heartbeat. When she released him a minute later, the worst of the damage he’d suffered was well on its way to healed.

“That was incredible.” Gunnar flexed the fingers of his shattered hand, amazed that the bones and muscles were almost back to normal. “How did you do that?”

“I didn’t,” Bridget said with a soft smile. “I showed your body what it was supposed to do, and the hamingja did the rest. It helps that I can see what you’ll look like when you’re healed, just a little.”

“Why are you so cold?” Gunnar asked.

“The future is winter,” Bridget whispered. One of her hands headed below his beltline again and closed around him. The dot between her eyes leaked soft purple light. “But not all of me is frozen.”

The contrast between the steamy water and Bridget’s cold skin triggered a vision in Gunnar’s mind. A pale woman lying naked in a snowbank beneath the green glow of the aurora borealis, her wideset hips and muscled thighs open in a wanton greeting. The urgent words that spilled from her mouth were in a language Gunnar had never heard, but he understood what she wanted just the same.

Gunnar’s other hand grasped Bridget’s muscular ass and lifted her up onto her tiptoes. She was a good foot shorter than him, but that still gave her most of a foot on Ray. It would take some effort, but Gunnar was confident he could make the geometry work. He lowered his face to hers and their mouths collided, hungry for one another. Bridget’s icy breath was a refreshing jolt after the shower’s humidity, and Gunnar drank her in. Their tongues danced over one another, demanding fire and yielding ice, and Bridget lightly nipped at his lips as if eager to devour him.

“I don’t do this,” she whispered when they parted. Her snow-white eyes probed Gunnar’s blues. She wrapped both of her cold arms around the back of his neck and ran her fingers through his hair.

“I know,” he said and lifted her higher.

He wasn’t sure how, but he knew. Bridget had given herself to Gunnar, and he understood it wasn’t an honor she bestowed lightly. He shivered as she pressed herself tighter against him, her hand working him with long, slow strokes that magnified the hot-and-cold sensations of her touch under the water. He held onto her with both hands and raised her until their eyes were level, his strong fingers kneading the firm muscles at the backs of her thighs. They kissed again, eyes open, gazes locked. The tip of Gunnar’s aching cock brushed against Bridget’s swollen lips. His hips twitched, lining their bodies up, animal heat pushing back the winter chill still wafting from her pale skin.

“Not like that,” she whispered, her lips brushing up against Gunnar’s. “We can’t. It’s not time.”

Bridget shifted her hips forward and hooked her ankles around the backs of Gunnar’s legs. She released him to part the seam of her sex, then ground the sensitive skin between its wet folds up and down Gunnar’s length. At the top of her strokes, she arched her back and thrust a stiffened nipple at his face.

The bodyguard closed his mouth over the pale pink nub, swirling his tongue around it. She tasted clean and fresh, cold as mountain snow. Gunnar yearned to bury himself in her, to dampen the fever that engulfed him in her soothing depths. Instead, he leaned back and let her slip and glide over him, his heart pounding like thunder as her pace quickened. He lifted his mouth from her steaming skin, and Bridget pulled him back for a hungry, desperate kiss. The tension of everything they’d experienced built between them, stretching their muscles taut as they strained for release. Their mouths parted as they gasped for breath, hips pumping, bodies slick and sliding against one another with an urgency that wouldn’t be denied.

She lowered her head to his shoulder, the cold breath from her moans brushing past his ear. Her eager panting quickened as she used one hand to pull his cock tighter against her. She alternated the motion of her fingers and hips, up and down, down and up, her cold somehow coaxing greater heat from Gunnar. The world faded away, leaving them alone in a cocoon of sensation and need. They moaned in unison, their bodies straining to be closer, to feel more. Bridget’s bucking hips suddenly stiffened, her hand clamped around Gunnar, and she cried out, her voice sharp and clear as a hunting hawk’s.

Warmth flooded through Bridget’s body, and her juices gushed across Gunnar. She held onto him, squeezing, stroking, her body still sliding along his length. Bridget’s tongue darted along the side of Gunnar’s neck, swirled around his earlobe. She whispered wordless demands to him, urging him to let go, to revel in the pleasure of her body.

“I want all of you,” he said, his voice thick with desire.

“Not yet,” she said with a wistful sigh. “Soon, but not yet. Believe me, I want it as badly as you do. But I can’t create the future and see it. And, right now, you need my vision more than that part of me.”

Her hand pulled him into a frenzy, her every move exactly what he needed,