She’s soft, and her hair smells of lemons. I rest my lips on top of it, inhaling, then lay my cheek on it.
We sit like that for a long, long time.
It’s warm in the room, and despite my anxiousness, my eyelids droop. After a while, I slide down a little, resting my head on the back, turning slightly, and she shifts to make herself more comfortable. With us almost lying down together, we both doze off.
The ringing of my phone startles us both awake some time later. She sits up, and I lean forward, pick the phone up from the table, and answer it.
“It’s me,” Rawiri says. “He’s through, and he’s awake and okay.”
I blow out a long shaky breath, nod at Jules, and see my relief reflected in her eyes.
“I won’t go all through it,” Rawiri says. “I’d get it wrong anyway. Jim’s going to email you a report shortly telling you what he did. But he says it went very well. Only one of Fred’s legs was broken so he’s put pins in that—the other was just bruised. It doesn’t look as if there was any internal bleeding. Everything went to plan, and Fred’s already had a drink and a small snack.”
I laugh, because I can’t help myself, and then immediately I’m overcome with emotion, and my throat goes so tight I can’t speak. I look at Jules helplessly, and see a look of such warmth, such affection in her eyes, that I feel even worse and my eyes fill with tears.
She takes the phone off me, stands, and turns away as she talks to Rawiri. I rise and run up the stairs, then sit on the end of the bed and cover my face with my hands as I fight for control. It doesn’t come easily. Tears pour down my cheeks, and I’m glad I’m alone as I struggle to come to terms with the fact that Fred has come through the operation. He’s not out of the woods yet; there are always complications that can happen, and he’ll have to be carefully monitored for a few days. But it’s definitely a start.
Eventually, my tears stop, and I heave a huge sigh and get up to go into the bathroom and blow my nose. Downstairs, Jules continues to talk to Rawiri, and I hear her asking a few questions, then finally suggesting he email me with any further details as it’s getting late, unless of course he has any further urgent news before she hangs up.
I splash some water on my face and dry it, then come out and sit on the edge of the bed for a moment.
It’s now nearing four p.m., and it should be dark outside, but the room is filled with an odd light. I look out of the window, across the tops of the trees in the forest, and catch my breath. The Aurora Borealis—the Northern Lights—fill the sky. They’re a rainbow of colors—pale greens, vivid greens, pinks, and purples, as if someone’s gone out there with a huge brush and splashed color all across the black velvet.
“Jules,” I call out. “Come up here.”
Her feet sound on the stairs, and then she appears.
“Are you okay? What—” She stops as she follows my gaze out of the window. “Oh my God.” She walks over to stand beside me. Her jaw has dropped. Her brown hair is tucked behind her ear, revealing the creamy skin of her neck. “I didn’t think we would get to see them.”
“Me either.” I tear my gaze away from her and look back out at the view. “I know Leon saw the Southern Lights when he went to the Dark Sky Reserve and he said they were amazing, but it’s hard to imagine what they’re really like in person.”
“I don’t know what to say,” she states. “I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as that.”
I look back at her, at the way the lights play across her face. “I have.”
She blinks, then looks at me. She has a small mole, not much bigger than a dark freckle, above the corner of her top lip. A tiny chickenpox scar on her cheek. The tiny hole on the side of her nose shows where she had a stud there for a while until she decided it didn’t suit her. Her bottom lip is full; the top one is a little thinner. They curve up naturally, so she looks as if she’s always about to break into a smile.
“Can I kiss you?” I ask, not wanting to make the same mistake I did last time.
Her eyes widen, and she inhales as if shocked. For a moment I think she’s going to turn me down—to say hey, who do you think you are? How dare you ask me after what you did last night?
But she doesn’t. Instead, she gives a tiny nod, so I bend my head and press my lips to hers.
I kiss her once, twice, then a longer third time, and then I lift my head and look at her. The Northern Lights fill her eyes with pinks and purples and greens. She’s so fucking beautiful. And I’m a lost man. I couldn’t turn away from her now any more than fly.
I turn her so her back is against the window, and I kiss her again. This time, she lifts her arms around my neck and slides her fingers into my hair, and I groan at the sensation of her touching me, and the feel of her soft body against mine. She opens her mouth and I slide my tongue inside, and my heart races as I taste her, and as her tongue plays with mine, urgent, desperate.
She places both hands on my chest and pushes. Disappointed, I move back, realizing I must have gone too far again, come on too strong. But that vanishes as she catches hold of her sweater at the hem and pulls it up over her head, then drops it to the floor.
Beneath it, she’s wearing a thermal T-shirt, and she removes that swiftly too, and now she’s just in her bra. Without stopping, she undoes the catch at the back, slides the straps down her arms, and tosses it aside.
Now she’s naked from the waist up, and my gaze drops to her breasts as I follow suit, grabbing a handful of my sweater at the back of my neck and removing that, then tugging off my thermal vest and tossing that aside. I move up close to her again, and she throws her arms around my neck and crushes her lips to mine. I fill my palms with her breasts and groan at their weight. Her nipples are tight beads—not really surprising in the coolness of the room—and when I rub my thumbs over them, she shudders and arches into my touch.
Suddenly, neither of us can wait. She removes her jeans as I kick mine off, and our underwear immediately follows. Leaving our socks on and laughing, we dive into bed. I tug the duvet up around our shoulders, then pull her on top of me.
Now she’s stretched out along me from chest to thigh, and Jesus, that feels good. I smooth my hands down her back, following the dip of her waist, then the flare of her hips. Her bottom is pert, the muscles plump and tight, and I knead them for a bit, as she shifts on top of me so the root of my erection is nestled between her thighs, and rocks her hips.
We arouse ourselves like that for a while, kissing—urgent and yet not urgent, hungry for each other, but taking time to savor, like when you’re starving and the chef brings an amazing meal to your table, and it looks so amazing you almost can’t bring yourself to eat it.
But it’s not long before we can’t take any more, and I grab for my wallet on the bedside table and take out a condom. She moves aside briefly so I can roll it on, then shifts back to straddle me, pushing herself up and guiding the tip of my erection to her entrance before sinking down on top of me.
I cover my face with my hands and revel in the sensation of being encased in her moist warmth. Aaahhh… that feels amazing. It’s been a while since I’ve been inside a woman, and the notion that it’s Jules who’s welcomed me inside her fills me with joy.
She kisses my hands and wrists as she begins to move, and I take them from my face and sink them into her hair as I kiss her properly. She rocks slowly, and I sigh and let the chocolate strands of her hair fall around my face as she kisses across my cheeks, nose, and eyes, before trailing her tongue across my lips and then kissing them again.
Catching my hands in hers, she pins them above me, looking down at my torso and the muscles in my arms, drinking her fill, before she releases me and slides her tongue into my mouth.
I kiss her deeply, and then when she lifts up, I cup her breasts and lift the nipples to my mouth, sucking them to tight buds again, until she’s moaning and sighing, her hips moving faster.
Fired up now, I hold her tightly and roll so she’s under me, and now it’s my
turn to thrust, filling the air with the slick sound of sex as I plunge inside her. She wraps her legs around my hips, and as I grind against her, I feel her begin to tense beneath me.
“Yes,” I say, the first word that’s left my lips since I kissed her, and her teeth clamp on her bottom lip as she frowns, concentrating on her pleasure. I thrust harder, and then her lips part with a soundless cry as she comes, tightening around me.
I ride her through it, drinking in her pleasure, until my own climax strikes. I come hard, shuddering, my hips jerking, only partly conscious of her watching me, and the way she slips a hand to cup my face, her thumb brushing my cheek.
When I’m done, I give her a final kiss before I lift off her, and I dispose of the condom and fall onto the bed beside her. I feel completely, utterly exhausted.
She curls up beside me, and I put my arm around her. The duvet is warm and cozy. I can smell the lemon from her hair, and the muskiness of our sex. My mouth tastes of her kisses. My skin tingles from her touch.
Within seconds, I fall asleep.
Chapter Seventeen
Jules
I open my eyes slowly. I feel disoriented—in my room at home there’s no huge window opposite the bed. Of course, I’m in Finland! But it’s still not right—my door’s on the opposite side to this room.
I turn my head and look into Stefan’s blue eyes. Oh yeah. Now I remember.
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” he murmurs.
“What time is it?”
“Only six p.m. We both crashed out for a while.”
He’s lying on his side, head propped on a hand. I shift to mirror his position, and we study each other for a while. The heat of passion between us, the intensity that had reared up out of nowhere, has vanished. I feel oddly shy, and pull the duvet close to my breasts.
I would think that comfort sex like what we’ve just had is very common. Receiving good news after being terrified brings a rush of relief, like a shot of adrenalin. It seemed perfectly natural when Stefan asked if he could kiss me, and I didn’t think twice before I took off my sweater in response, knowing perfectly well what it would initiate. Our lovemaking was relatively quick but no less satisfying for that, and I don’t regret it one little bit.
I can’t tell if he does. His face is carefully blank. He doesn’t look regretful or worried, just… bemused, I suppose, as if he’s not sure what to say.
I decide to take away the worry about what to say or think about this situation, and tell him, “I’m starving.”
His lips curve up. “I guess we both worked up an appetite.”
“And I haven’t eaten. I’m wasting away here. Do you want me to be all skin and bones?”
“Is that your not-so-subtle way of asking me to take you to dinner?”
“It absolutely is, if you’re up for it.” I gesture at his phone on the bedside table. “Any news from Rawiri or Jim?”
He turns and reaches for it, unlocks it, and navigates to his emails. “Yes, there’s the report from Jim.” He reads it quickly. “Okay, pretty standard stuff. No complications, by the looks of it. He took a couple of x-rays and Fred’s pelvis was undamaged, and his left hind leg was just bruised and swollen. He’s set the right hind leg using pins, so it must have been pretty bad. There was no noticeable internal bleeding, although he’s keeping him at the surgery for a day or two so he can keep an eye on him. He says Fred’s in good spirits and doing well.” He blows out a long breath, forwards the email to Hal, then lowers the phone to the bed.
“I’m so pleased for you,” I tell him softly. “It could have been a lot worse.”
“Yeah. There’s no reason he shouldn’t make a full recovery.”
I turn over my hand, palm up, and he slides his into it.
“Thank you,” he says.
I’m not quite sure what to say in response. The words suggest he thinks I had sex with him purely to comfort him. That was part of it, of course, but it was much more than that to me. Maybe it wasn’t to him, though.
But I just reply, “You’re very welcome,” and I lean forward and press my lips to his. To my relief, he lifts his hand to hold my head, turning the kiss from a peck into a smooch.
When he finally releases me, I smile, roll over, get to my feet, and start retrieving my scattered clothing. “Ooh.” I shiver as I pull on my panties and jeans, then quickly put on my bra. “I think the temperature’s dropping.”
“It looks as if it might start snowing again.” He gets up and starts dressing, too. I can’t stop my gaze sliding to watch him as he pulls on his boxers and jeans. He has muscular legs and a really, really nice butt, tight and firm, the kind you want to sink your teeth into. I wish I’d had time to pay more attention to it, but I didn’t get to do much except have an amazing orgasm.
He looks up then and catches my eye, and heat steals over my face. I blush so rarely that his eyebrows rise. I turn away and tug on my T-shirt, pick up my sweater, and run down the stairs.
At the bottom, I put on the sweater, then take the mugs that contained the tea we had earlier into the kitchen. I’m in the middle of washing them up when he comes and leans a hip on the counter beside me.
I glance at his broad chest, then place a clean mug on the draining board. He picks up the tea towel and dries it before putting it in the cupboard.
I wash up the other one, and he dries that. Then, as I go to walk past him, he puts his arm out to stop me.
“Jules,” he says.
I turn to face him and give him a bright smile. “Hmm?”
He lifts a hand and tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. “You okay?”
“Sure.” I study his chin, with its five-o’clock shadow.
He brushes my cheek with the back of his hand. “You don’t regret it?”
I meet his eyes then and shake my head. “Of course not. It was lovely.”
He nods. “Okay.” Then he smiles. “Let’s go and get something to eat.”
We pull on our jackets, boots, hats, and gloves, and head out into the cool night. I wonder whether he’s going to suggest we go into the common room and make some toast or something, but he doesn’t turn off there and heads down the hill, so it looks as if we’re eating out.
“Where were the others going?” he asks.
“To the Arctic Circle,” I say, naming one of the restaurants.
As we enter the village, he looks up and down the main street. “How about we go to Jack Frost’s?”
I smile, pleased. “That sounds great,” and we walk across to it.
Jack Frost’s is a bar that also serves food, and one of the few places in the village that allows over-eighteens only. It has a long bar running most of the length of the room, and rustic tables and chairs where you can either sit and enjoy a drink or order pub-style food. We grab a menu and choose a wood-fired pizza with local salmon and cream cheese, and a bowl of fries, and take our beers across to a table by the roaring log fire.
“I like those,” Stefan says, gesturing to the photographs on the walls. They’re black-and-white shots of a Jack Frost-style figure, a person dressed as a wood sprite in a snow-covered forest. Or maybe it really is Jack Frost, caught on camera on a cold winter’s evening.
“You surprise me,” I tell him, sipping my beer. “I didn’t think you were into anything artsy-fartsy.” I know he dislikes pretentiousness, and he’s not a fan of anything that has a feel of the Emperor’s New Clothes about it.
“I’m not,” he replies. “But these capture how it felt when I went out into the woods the other night—that sense of mysteriousness and danger.”
“When did you go into the woods?” I ask, surprised.
“After I kissed you outside your suite. I was angry at myself, and I knew I’d upset you. I just kept walking, and ended up in the woods.”
“That was dangerous, Stef, there are bears out there, aren’t there?”
“Probably. The only thing I saw was an Arctic fox.” He smiles.
My eyes widen. “You saw on
e?”
“He was beautiful. Pure white with a Pooh Bear black nose and button eyes. He even came up to sniff me. I don’t think I breathed for a whole minute.”
“I’m so envious,” I admit. “I’d love to see one of those.”
“Yeah, it was pretty special. Hal’s the charmer; animals don’t tend to come to me like that. It was a magical moment.”
For the first time, I wonder how he must have felt growing up with Hal, the golden boy, who always outshone everyone around him. If he wasn’t so nice with it, I think Hal would have a lot of enemies, but luckily he’s such a sweetheart that everyone forgives him for being near-perfect. It must have been difficult, though. I know Stefan was fourth in his year at veterinary college—it’s an amazing achievement, and yet he always fell short of Hal, who came top. He never seems to resent Hal, though. Although they’re the same age, I think he’s always looked up to him, kind of like a big brother.
“Do you think of me like a sister?” I ask.
His lips curve up. “I would think after what’s just happened my answer is obvious.”
“Well, yeah, I guess. I suppose I meant more, have you always thought of me as a sister, the way you’ve thought of Hal as a brother?”
He leans on the table as he thinks about how to reply. My pulse speeds up a little. He’s so handsome. I feel a twinge of reluctance that our lovemaking was so out of the blue, and so quick. Whilst I’m certainly not complaining, it was like being thrown onto the roaring log fire—the heat consumed us immediately, and we turned to ash in minutes. It would have been nice to spend a few hours in bed, talking, playing with each other…
“Maybe when we were much younger,” he says, and I realize he’s answering my question. “Up until I was about fifteen or sixteen, I guess. But something changed around that time. I suppose it’s natural—we were both growing up.”
“I got boobs,” I say, and he laughs.
“Yeah, that probably had something to do with it.” His eyes meet mine, and they turn sultry. Now he’s thinking about my breasts. I remember him cupping them, lowering his mouth to my nipples. His warm tongue, the way he sucked gently. A tingle runs all the way down my spine.
My Christmas Billionaire (The Billionaire Kings Book 7) Page 12