by Karina Halle
“It feels like it’s done, keeps winding. But if you press the shutter, you’ll get another pic out of it.” I lift it up, aiming it at his face. He shakes his head. “Don’t you dare waste it on me.”
I stare at him through the lens, enjoying making him uncomfortable for once. Then I lower it and give him a look like, now what? Are we going to talk about you kissing me? Or the fact that I kissed you back?
But I chicken out. “Where have you been all day?” I ask.
He nods at the mountains. “Exploring some trails. Getting dirty.”
I eye his clothes—dark jeans, a white Henley that showcases his rounded shoulders, his broad chest. Not a spec of dirt on the man. “You don’t look dirty to me.”
“Had a shower. Changed. Had to look nice for our date.”
I laugh. “Date? What are you talking about?”
He sticks a toothpick in his mouth and then jerks his chin over his shoulder. “Get on.”
“I’m not going anywhere until I know what’s happening.”
He grins at me, his eyes twinkling in a way that makes my heart skip several beats. “What happened to Miss Spontaneous, always up for an adventure?”
Gah. He’s got me there.
I flip my camera around the strap so it’s resting on my back and then I stride over to him, grabbing his shoulders as I pull myself on the motorbike. I wrap my arms around his chest, place my cheek on his shoulder blades, the backpack pressed up against me.
“You okay?” he asks, his accent sounding thicker, voice husky, and I’m getting inappropriate goosebumps.
I clear my throat. “I’m good. Let’s go.”
We move, much smoother than the other day, and after a while I lift up my head to take in the sights, the camera bouncing along my spine as we hit bumps. The ocean gleams on our right, a small fishing boat plying the waters, heading home. That is obviously just a villager catching what he can; I know we’re hours away from the actual open ocean where all the good fishing is (according to Anders, anyway).
Anders takes us over a bridge, past the town, then past the dumpling hotel, which feels so long ago now, until the houses get further apart and the road turns to gravel. I keep a tight hold on him as the road gets rougher and narrower, a river on one side of us, a forest of birch on the other. You can’t hear over the roar of the motor, so we ride in a silence that’s feeling more and more comfortable by the second. It feels right to be back here, my arms wrapped around his firm stomach, my body pressed against his. A little too right.
Eventually the valley opens up, wide, like it’s yawning. A couple of farms and red houses dot the green expanse that stretches between the mountains, the river running through it.
Anders takes us over another bridge and then we start heading along the river on the other side, the road turning to a path until eventually it peters out into a grassy area and we come to a stop in front of a small waterfall.
“Here we are,” he says, turning off the bike. Birdsong and the roar of the waterfall fill my ears.
I’m looking around in awe as he helps me off the bike.
“Is this your secret spot? Because it’s beautiful.”
He takes off his backpack and brings it over to the water’s edge, setting it down and unzipping the top. “It’s not exactly a secret. Long time ago the furniture factory used the hydro from the waterfalls on this river to power their machines. If you walk upstream for a bit, you’ll find what’s left. Someone went and put picnic tables there for the hikers in the area, but this spot is a little more private.”
I watch as he brings out a wool blanket, cornflower blue with white designs, very Scandinavian looking. “Is that your grandmother’s?” I ask him.
He shrugs, adjusting the ends. “Probably.” He gives me a quick smile. “It was my mother’s.” He nods at the blanket. “Here. Sit. I’ll be your server tonight.”
I let out a small laugh and get down on the blanket, sitting cross-legged, watching as he removes a bottle of hard liquor. “To start our night off, we’ll be having some aquavit. Have you had this yet?” He gets down on his knees, holding it out.
I shake my head, eying the bottle. It looks like strong booze, has a ship on the bottle.
“I thought Astrid would have made you drink this at some point,” he comments, bringing out a couple of shot glasses and pouring the booze in it. He hands one to me then raises the one in his hand. “Skal.”
I sniff it first. My eyes water already. It’s like turpentine and something familiar yet strange. “What the hell is in this?”
“It’s surprisingly smooth,” he says, taking a shot back, though he does wince a little. “Might put a little hair on your chest. It’s why Norwegians are so hairy.”
I laugh and then take back the shot. God. It burns like hell.
“Not sure smooth is the right adjective,” I tell him, and I swear I already feel the effects of it as it warms my chest. “Why do I taste dill?”
“It’s made from caraway seeds,” he says. “It’s a right of passage here in Norway. I promise you the second shot will taste better.”
I smirk at him. “You’re trying to get me drunk.” I hold out my glass.
“You’re not saying no,” he says, pouring us both another round.
I keep my eyes on the glass, avoiding in the intensity in his gaze. Because he’s right. I want to get drunk. And I don’t want to say no. Not anymore. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol already coursing through my veins, if it’s the scenic location by the small waterfall, if it’s the fact that in this golden late evening light Anders looks hotter than ever, or if it’s the kiss from earlier, still imprinted on my lips, but I want to throw all caution to the wind.
And it still scares me.
I raise the glass, meeting his eyes for a moment, and I swear they hold me hostage for eons. Then the corner of his mouth tilts into a half-smile and he takes the shot back. I do the same.
He was right. It is better the second time around.
Maybe it will be the same for us.
I swallow it down and cough a little, enjoying the buzz. I lean back on my elbows and tilt my head to the sun, which is disappearing behind faraway mountains. It makes me want to see what’s behind those mountains, to see where the wild Norwegian Sea meets the coast. It makes me want to take Anders up on his offer.
But that’s drunk Shay talking. “So how is your mother?” I ask Anders.
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Well, I guess.”
“Astrid told me you don’t talk,” I tell him.
He nods, squinting off into the distance. “We don’t. We’ve never been close. As you know.”
I give him a steady look, weighing my words in my mind. “But that’s just the thing, Anders. I don’t really know. I know you think you told me everything when we were going out but…you didn’t.”
His eyes sharpen. “I did too.”
“Poetry doesn’t count.”
“Why not?”
“Because it only tells me how you feel. It doesn’t explain where the feelings come from. What made you this way.”
He stiffens, growing defensive. “Then it should be enough.”
“Anders,” I say, and I know I should hold things back, that I shouldn’t ruin what could be a romantic moment. I know I should just let it go, but my mouth keeps moving. “I deserve to know why you did what you did. You say that you were a fuck-up when you were younger, well why? What were your demons? You never shared them with me. I knew you had problems, but you never let me in.”
His jaw tenses and he averts his eyes, looking off. “I was just an asshole. Plain and simple.”
I reach out and grab his arm, forcing him to look at me. “You weren’t. At least not at the beginning. Something changed. Something made you that way. Was it…was it me?”
His eyes go soft. “No. No, Shay. You were perfect. You were…so fucking lovely. I just…” he licks his lips and sighs. Runs his hand through his hair. “Do you know what it’s like to f
eel like your own family doesn’t want you?”
His words cause my heart to grow cold and heavy.
I nod slowly. “Yes. I do. Anders, you know I do.”
He gives me a sharp look. “Do I? Because for all you’re saying about how you don’t know anything about me, did you ever consider that I barely knew anything about you?”
I shake my head. “That’s not true. You knew what it was like for me back then. Never having my mother around, having her chase after my father, who clearly gave no shits about us. All I had was Hannah, and she had her own life to live. She never asked for any of that, to have to look after me. We were pretty much abandoned, Anders. Abandoned, and then I became a burden.”
“And so was I!” His eyes flash. “I was sent to be with my mother because her abandonment of our family fucked me up so much that my father couldn’t handle me. Couldn’t even stand to be around me. I was sent to be with her, and she didn’t even want me. I went across the Atlantic, pulled from my school and friends, and I wasn’t wanted there either. I had nothing, I had no one…except for you.”
“Then why did you fuck it up?” I cry out.
He swallows hard. “Because I knew I didn’t deserve you. Because…you were pure and so good and I really did love you.”
Fuck. Those words shouldn’t hit me the way they are. Right in between the ribs.
“But,” he continues, his voice going low, “I also knew that it wasn’t forever. That I would eventually have to leave. I couldn’t stay where I wasn’t wanted. I knew I’d head back to Norway, try and create a life for myself, and that we would have to part, and I guess…I guess I thought if I fucked things up enough, if I could get you to hate me, it would make it easier for both of us.”
I let out a derisive snort. “There was nothing easy about it.”
I suck on my bottom lip, feeling the truth rising up inside me. He still doesn’t really know what happened, he doesn’t realize that it wasn’t just about him cheating on me. He doesn’t know I was pregnant, or that I had an abortion, and that those things have weighed me down all this time.
“Anders,” I say softly, my eyes skimming over his beautiful face before looking off to the mountains, the bare peaks kissed with gold from the setting sun. “I…”
He reaches out before I can say anything and places his large, warm palm against my cheek. “Forgive me, Shay. Please.”
His eyes search mine, and in their depths I see the boy I knew and loved, and the man in front of me now, and I know I would still do anything to ease his pain.
“Forgive me,” he says again, a whisper now.
I nod, pressing my lips together, trying to smile, to speak.
Because I do forgive him. Don’t I?
Then relief passes through his eyes before being drowned out by fire.
Before I know what’s happening, he’s leaning in, his fingers moving back into my hair, holding my head in place, and his mouth covers mine in a hard, bruising kiss that steals my breath.
Anders kisses me like a man going off to war.
But the only war is the one raging inside me.
The one between the past and the present.
The present is winning.
It takes a moment for me to realize what’s happening, but then my mouth opens in total surrender. His tongue slides in against mine, wet, warm, stirring something in the dark depths of me, like a flock of gossamer-winged birds taking flight. The way his lips devour mine, both hard and soft at once, makes me feel like the world is spinning, tipping over, and this kiss is the only thing keeping me centered.
Then I’m leaning forward, grabbing him by the shoulders, my fingers digging into his shirt, trying to hold on, trying to keep him to myself, afraid that if I stop for a moment, I might let him go and he’ll never come back to me.
“Shay,” he whispers against my mouth, his voice rough, brimming with urgency.
I can only whimper in return as he kisses me harder, and then I’m being pushed back, back, until I’m lying down on the blanket. He moves on top of me, his massive body nearly blocking out the waning blue sky and the gold-tinged clouds.
His jacket comes off.
So does mine.
Then my shirt, my bra, his eyes going wide at the sight of my breasts, nipples hard.
Then I’m trying to tug off his shirt, running my fingers over the muscles in his shoulders, his hard pecs, nails scraping down his rigid six-pack, marveling at all his tattoos that he’s added over the years.
But he doesn’t give me a lot of time to gawk.
“Are you…do you have protection?”
I nod. “IUD. Had it for ages.”
He bites his lip, his eyes now coasting over my body as he reaches down and unzips his jeans, pulling out his cock.
My eyes widen at the intimidating sight.
My god, Anders has gotten bigger in every single way possible.
Suddenly I’m slammed with this desperate urge to have him inside me, and I’m unzipping my jeans, shimmying out of them, not self-conscious in the least that I’m now naked beneath him, outside, in daylight. Thank god it’s the flattering glow of magic hour.
Besides, his own naked body is distraction enough.
He positions himself between my thighs, stroking his cock, holding back.
I bite my lip, watching him, wanting him.
His brow furrows, and I can tell he wants to thrust up inside me and go at it, that it’s taking a lot of restraint for him to control himself. His nostrils flare and he’s breathing hard, his breath hitching further as he guides his cock between my legs, rubbing the swollen head against me.
I gasp lightly, my body responding with waves of fire and ice down my spine, my legs spreading further, wanting him inside me. I’m already wet, surprisingly so, and the sound is X-rated, filling the still evening air around us.
His eyes coast over my body, the heat in his eyes building and he shakes his head, letting out a shaking breath. “Words cannot do you justice,” he whispers gruffly, a hint of awe as he takes me in. “They never could.”
He reaches out with one hand, his rough fingertip brushing over my lower lip, then over my chin, between my breasts, over my stomach.
Then he’s leaning forward, capturing my mouth in his and I’m kissing him, lost to the passionate undertow as he starts to push his cock inside me.
Ah. It hurts. Just a little. There’s a pinch and I’m so tight that it takes a bit for my body to loosen, no matter how wet I am. It’s been ages since I last slept with anyone, and it’s not like I brought a handy collection of dildos on my travels. I feel brand new.
It must feel the same way for Anders too, because he lets out a tight noise of pleasure against my mouth, pulling away and sucking in a deep breath. “Jesus.”
Then he looks down at me, and in his stormy blue eyes, I know that this is a big deal for him too. We lost our virginity to each other. We gave each other our bodies a long time ago, learning as we went, figuring out what sex was all about, figuring out what we wanted.
Now we’re older, we’re different, and yet our bodies fit just the same. The way he pushes his cock in, slowly, inch by agonizing inch, brings out some sort of muscle memory in my body. It relaxes through the pain, surrendering to him, remembering.
“Fuck,” he swears, now in to the hilt, and his breath shudders as he exhales, a thumb going over my lip again as he gazes at me with reverence. “Are you okay?”
I can’t help but grin, biting the end of his thumb. It tastes like salt.
“Better than okay,” I manage to say, my voice thick, throaty, relishing the feeling of him so deep inside me. I reach down and grab his ass, all muscle, and pull him into me so that he sinks even deeper.
He groans loudly, the sound turning me on like a switch, and suddenly I don’t want this slow and sensual build. I want him to fuck me, ravage me, take no prisoners.
“Greedy girl,” Anders says in a husky voice.
Then he starts to pull back, bracketing
his arm on one side of me, his muscles straining as he pushes himself back in, harder this time.
I gasp, my fingers curling around the blanket beneath me, and my eyes close for a moment, letting all the sensations wash over. The feel of his girth inside me, the raspy quality of his breath, the babbling stream flowing past us, far-off bird song, the chill in the evening air. It’s more than just sex right now, it’s a fully primal experience, one with nature, one with each other.
God, I have fantasized about this.
I open my eyes as he pushes in again, his rhythm picking up, and from the look on his face, his brow knitted together, his eyes pinched shut, the moans that are grinding out of his mouth, he’s feeling everything that I am. When his eyes open again, they hold me captive in their gaze, the eye contact more intimate than anything else.
But I know these eyes.
I used to be in love with these eyes.
Then he reaches over and gathers my wrists together, moving them above my head, pinning them there and he starts moving faster, his hips slamming against mine, full of power, the air knocked from me with each and every thrust.
“Fuck,” I whisper, breathless, looking away from the endless intensity in his eyes, his eyes that are starting to demand more than just my body, but my heart and my soul. I focus on the mountains, on the peaks tinged with gold of the setting sun, and I feel like I’m soaring just as high.
Will I ever come down from this?
I let my eyes fall closed, succumbing to every feeling. The scratchy wool of the blanket on my bare back, the cool air as it hardens my nipples, the sound of Anders’ quickening breath, the slide of his cock as he pumps inside me, feeling so full and lush, like he was made just for me.
When I open my eyes to see him, the look on his face has intensified, and sweat is starting to appear on his brow. For a moment, I can’t believe this is happening, that this man, this man of all men, with his god-like muscles, and those poetic tattoos, is fucking me senseless.
“I want you to come,” Anders says through a rough grunt, his body a well-oiled machine hell-bent on giving me pleasure. “I want to see you come, out here, among the flowers. I want to see you bloom.”
My skin is already hot and tight, but now a flush is creeping across my face.