Authors note: New chapter! I expect to be updating at least weekly until I finish this story. Thanks to everyone who has followed or favorited, and especially those of you who have reviewed! I'm new to this, so it means a lot! Thank you again, and please enjoy!
There were two, maybe three, inches between them, but Sansa's senses were more alert than she could have imagined possible. She already felt calmer having him by her side, but she knew there was no way she would get any sleep if she spent the whole night avoiding touching him in the narrow bed. Giving herself a mental shove, she boldly rolled towards him and nestled against his side, placing her cheek on his muscled chest. She felt him freeze, his breathing stopping for a moment before he spoke.
"Little bird… it's not a good idea," he said, sounding as much as if he were trying to convince himself as he was her.
"Just let me be close to you. I won't take advantage of you, if that's what you're frightened of," she teased, and was delighted hear a small exhalation of air, signifying a laugh.
"Sleep. That's all," he said firmly.
Sansa didn't bother to reply, but instead snuggled closer to him. Despite his solidity, he made for a very pleasant bed partner. She felt as if her body melted into his warmth, and he smelled of lemon peels and the pine soap he had used earlier and something she couldn't identify that must have been his scent alone, dark and masculine. She had truly enjoyed her time dozing on Stranger in front of him, but without the barrier of armor between him, she was free to feel his body against hers at her leisure. She mused that she had never slept with a man before, and the experience, so far, was quite a nice one indeed.
Sandor felt certain he was in hell. Or at the very least, some vicious purgatory. Days ago he would have said he had no honor at all. That night, with Sansa pressed firmly against him, he knew he had been wrong, because he was relying on every last bit of honor he had to keep from flipping her onto her back and fucking the living daylights out of her… but no, that wasn't even right. He didn't want to fuck Sansa, at least in the way he knew. Every single whore he'd bedded in all of his years, he had discarded without a second thought. He felt certain he would never do that to her. If he were to have Sansa, he would want it to be special.
"For fucks sake, get a hold of yourself," he muttered through gritted teeth. Thinking about… making love to her? He wasn't even sure what that meant. Sansa chose that moment to snuggle closer to him, allowing one of her hands to drift across his stomach. Sandor rolled his eyes toward the heavens, searching for every last modicum of self control he could possibly find. It was going to be a long night.
Sansa awoke the next morning feeling completely rested. During the night, Sandor's arm had ended up wrapped around her, pulling her closer to him than she thought possible. Her legs had intertwined with one of his, and Sansa was delighted by how domestic it felt. She could pretend she wasn't engaged to a horrid tiny troll of a king, but instead, a man she trusted and respected, and as it was becoming clearer to her, wanted.
She looked up at his face, studying every detail. In the morning light, his burns looked harsh, but more and more, she was finding it easier to focus on other aspects of his visage instead. He had straight, high cheekbones shadowed with stubble and an aristocratic nose that made him very handsome, in her opinion. Dark brows and lashes framed eyes that she knew were a deep steely grey when open. And his shoulders…. goodness, but they really were the broadest she had ever seen, even wider than his brother, The Mountain's. Yes, she really did find him quite nice to look at. And, she thought to herself, he had excellent lips. A small smile played on her mouth as she reached up to lightly touch his lower lip. The second her finger made contact, his eyes snapped open and he moved so quickly that she hardly knew how his hand had come to be in an iron grip around her wrist.
"What do you think you're doing?" he growled. Sansa bit her lip, trying not to laugh.
"Nothing," she said, trying to sound innocent. He narrowed his eyes, and threw her arm away from him as he rolled in one fluid motion out of the bed and onto his feet.
"We need to get moving. We should have left an hour ago," he grumbled, pulling his boots on. Well, there went her domestic dream. Sansa drew her knees up to her chest and rolled her eyes.
"Roll your eyes all you want, we're leaving," he said, blasting out the door. Sansa stared after him, listening to the sound of his boots stomping down the hall. What had gotten into him? Just when she thought she'd moved forward an inch, they leapt back a mile. She was beginning to feel like she'd never understand him. With a long-suffering sigh, Sansa got to her feet and proceeded to ready herself for another grueling day of riding.
