The Swede

by Maureen Smith

  “I don’t know. I didn’t answer the phone,” he reminded her.

  Scarlett looked at him.

  He met her gaze unflinchingly. He was either telling the truth or he was a very good liar. Unfortunately, she’d never been able to tell the difference when it came to men she was attracted to.

  “Who broke it off?” she prodded.

  “There was nothing to break off,” Viggo drawled. “We just went out a few times. Nothing serious.”

  Scarlett gave him a knowing look. “But it was your decision to stop seeing her.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched. “Does it matter?”

  She just looked at him.

  “Yes,” he answered. “It was my decision.”

  Scarlett searched his face a moment longer, then nodded and returned her gaze to the electronic floor display. “We can go to your lounge.”

  “Thought you’d never ask.” He smiled.

  She felt her own lips curve in response.

  He released the button, letting the doors close. As the elevator began its smooth descent, her stomach fluttered wildly. The elevator hadn’t felt this small or tight when she rode it earlier with her family. Viggo’s presence was overpowering.

  She glanced sideways at him, watching his eyes slide from her face to her breasts. She knew she had a nice rack, and her T-shirt was on the snug side. So she’d give him a pass for sneaking a peek.

  But that didn’t stop her from folding her arms across her chest to block his view. “So where were you coming from just now?”

  His gaze shifted to the display panel ticking off the descending floors. “Nowhere important.”

  “Let me guess,” Scarlett said dryly. “You were at the afterparty?”

  He hesitated, then nodded.

  She felt a stab of jealousy, imagining the horde of bunnies who must have been hanging all over him, competing for his attention.

  Trying to sound casual, she asked, “So why’d you leave?”

  He looked at her. “It’s not where I wanted to be.”

  She felt her breath catch in her throat.

  They stared at each other until the elevator arrived on his floor. When the doors opened, he motioned for her to step out ahead of him. As she did, she glanced over her shoulder and caught him staring at her ass.

  When his eyes lifted to her face, she cocked an eyebrow at him.

  Lips twitching, he put his hand on the small of her back and guided her down the carpeted hallway.

  The lounge was pretty swanky. There were half a dozen plush leather couches and chairs, and sleek lanterns were placed on low end tables. It was dimly lit and cozy, the perfect spot for making out.

  Not that they’d be doing any of that, Scarlett told herself.

  Viggo led her to a dark leather couch in a corner. She took off her flip-flops and sat down, tucking her legs under her with her skirt stretched over her knees.

  Viggo sat beside her, leaning back with his arm draped across the back of the couch. The pose pulled the fabric of his dress shirt snug against his wide chest.

  Scarlett had seen pictures of him with his shirt off, so she knew he had rock-hard pecs and abs for days. What she didn’t know was how those muscles would feel beneath her hands, pressed against her breasts—

  “Know what you want?”

  Scarlett blinked stupidly. “What?”

  Viggo had pulled a menu out of the end table drawer. “I’m placing our order. Tell me what you want.”

  “Oh. Right.” Get a grip, woman. “Is that the espresso bar menu?”

  “Yeah.” Viggo leaned close so they could look over the menu together. She could feel his body heat, could smell the hint of aftershave on his skin and see the light catching against the golden bristles on his jaw. Just being this close to him caused her nipples to harden and her clit to tingle.

  She glanced up to find his gray eyes fixed on her. Awareness crackled between them like electricity, leaving her hot and breathless.

  She looked back down at the menu, but the words might as well have been printed in Sanskrit. She couldn’t focus worth a damn.

  “I’ll just have a cappuccino. Decaf.”

  “Sounds good.” Viggo picked up the courtesy phone on the table.

  Scarlett watched him order two decaf cappuccinos. When he added chocolate croissants, she raised an eyebrow. He winked at her.

  Damn if her heart didn’t skip several beats.

  When he hung up the phone, she said teasingly, “Chocolate croissants? At two in the morning?”

  A lazy grin curved his lips. “What can I say? I have a sweet tooth.”

  “Oh, so you’re trying to corrupt me, too?”

  “Absolutely.” His eyes gleamed with a wicked implication. “Are you corruptible, Scarlett?”

  She smiled. “Depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On what I’m being tempted with.”

  His eyes darkened before lowering to her mouth. The heat of his gaze made her want to do things she shouldn’t. Dirty, wicked things.

  “What tempts you, Scarlett?”

  The low rumble of his voice went straight to her core. “I’m tempted by all sorts of things that aren’t good for me.”

  “Yeah?” Viggo shifted closer, his eyes glinting with unholy mischief. “Like what?”

  “If I told you,” she said, her voice low and practically purring, “then you’d just try to tempt me, no?”

  Viggo stared at her for the longest moment. Then he let out one of those sexy, rumbling laughs that made her feel shivery all over.

  She couldn’t help smiling at him. God, he’s dreamy. It was a corny word, but oh so applicable.

  He reached out and skimmed his knuckles down her cheek.

  Her insides clenched as she stared at him, insanely tempted to nuzzle her face into his palm. “You’re kinda touchy-feely, aren’t you? Is that a Swedish thing?”

  He gave his head a slow shake. “It’s a you and me thing.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I’m not normally a touchy-feely guy. But it’s different with you. Every time I look at you, I just…it’s like I can’t help myself.” He gazed into her eyes, stroking the curve of her cheekbone with his thumb. “I like touching you, Scarlett. But if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll stop.”

  Everything inside her rebelled at the thought. “I wasn’t complaining. Just making an observation.”

  He smiled softly, brushing his thumb over the tiny diamond stud in her nose. “I like this.”

  She swallowed. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” He fingered the six small gold hoops lining her right ear. “These, too.”

  Scarlett smiled. His touch had her tingling everywhere. “My mom hates piercings. She thinks they’re unladylike.”

  “I think they’re sexy as hell. And there’s nothing unladylike about you, Scarlett.”

  She grinned impishly. “You might think differently if you ever saw me watching hockey and screaming at the refs. If that didn’t change your opinion, the burping contests with my bandmates would definitely do the trick.”

  “Burping contests, huh?” Viggo gave her a lazy grin. “Do you ever win?”

  “Just about every time,” she bragged, grinning from ear to ear. “Having a wide vocal range really helps. I know how to hit all sorts of high notes and hold them forever. So when it comes to burping, I just pretend I’m singing and let ’er rip.”

  She loved the rumble of laughter that erupted from Viggo. It seeped into her veins and made her feel warm all over.

  A room service attendant arrived, wheeling a small cart over to the couch. Viggo signed the bill and generously tipped the guy, who grinned delightedly and gushed about being Viggo’s biggest fan even though he grew up rooting for the Red Wings.

  As he rambled on, Scarlett sat up on the couch and took the silver top off the plate of croissants. They looked warm and flaky, dusted with powdered sugar. The cappuccinos were topped with fresh whipped cream. She swiped up a dollop
and licked her finger. She could feel the sugar going right to her veins.

  “Sorry about that,” Viggo said apologetically when his number one fan finally left.

  Scarlett grinned. “Even in enemy territory, you still get the rock star treatment.”

  He chuckled and picked up his coffee. Instead of taking a sip, he watched Scarlett bite into her croissant and sigh with pleasure as the rich chocolate melted in her mouth.

  “Good?” His voice sounded thick and rough.

  “Sooo good.” She took another bite and moaned.

  Viggo watched her chew, his eyes on her lips. “Now what were you saying about being corrupted?”

  She laughed, blotting her mouth with a napkin. “Just because I’m enjoying it doesn’t mean it’s good for me. That’s the thing about corruption. It feels good in the moment, but the consequences are a bitch.”

  Viggo gave her a heavy-lidded smile before sipping his cappuccino. When his tongue flicked out to lick whipped cream off his upper lip, tight little tingles shot to her core.

  She squeezed her thighs together and sucked a dab of chocolate off her finger. The heat in Viggo’s eyes made her wonder if he was imagining her mouth on something else. He wouldn’t be the only one.

  Cheeks warming at the lascivious thought, she set her croissant down and reached for her cappuccino. As she brought the cup to her mouth, Viggo gestured to her claw-shaped fingernails.

  “Those look kinda dangerous.”

  She chuckled. “Think so?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Rawr,” she growled playfully, swatting at him like a tiger brandishing her claws.

  He threw back his head and laughed.

  She grinned, sipping from her cup. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed a man’s company so much. It amazed her that she could let herself relax around a guy who set her girl parts on fire with just a look.

  Viggo put his cup down, still smiling at her. “I think it’s cute that you painted your nails in Rebels colors.”

  She snorted at the word cute. “Who says I did?”

  His eyes danced. “Didn’t you?”

  “No.”

  “Liar.”

  Scarlett bit her lip but couldn’t hold back her laughter.

  Viggo smiled and shook his head slowly, staring at her with a sort of dazed wonder. “Damn.”

  “What?”

  “You’re stunning, Scarlett. Seriously. It’s distracting as hell. When you laugh, your whole face lights up and your eyes sparkle and it’s just…breathtaking.”

  Scarlett blushed fiercely, tugging her lower lip between her teeth. She’d scrubbed off her makeup when she got back to her room. The fact that Viggo still found her beautiful was one hell of an ego boost.

  He was watching her, a smile playing at the edge of his lips. “I love making you blush.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

  He laughed and stroked her warm cheek with his index finger. Not for the first time, she wondered how such a simple touch could make every nerve ending in her body sizzle.

  Sipping her coffee, she watched Viggo bite into his chocolate croissant and let out an appreciative grunt.

  She grinned. “Good, right?”

  He took another healthy bite and groaned. “Oh hell yeah.”

  Her belly clenched. Before she could stop herself, she reached out and wiped powdered sugar from the corner of his lips. As she licked her thumb clean, his eyes locked on her mouth.

  She wanted to lean over and kiss him. She wanted to taste the sweetness of the chocolate on his lips, wanted to suck the flavor from his tongue.

  Swallowing hard, she set her cup down and picked up her own half-eaten croissant. She and Viggo quietly munched their pastries, watching each other as if hypnotized.

  “So,” he murmured when they finished and reached for their cappuccinos, “what’s it like being in a band?”

  The question made her smile. “It’s like having another family. A family that shares the same passion and works toward the same goals. A family you’d kill for even though they get on your damn nerves.”

  Viggo grinned over the rim of his cup. “Sounds like being on a sports team.”

  She laughed. “I can see that.”

  He chuckled, sipping his coffee. “I read on your website that you and your bandmates met in college.”

  “Yep. Our first semester at Berklee.” She smiled fondly at the memory. “We were this motley crew of young anarchists who shared the same anti-establishment views and loved the same type of music, so we clicked right away. We formed the band two years later and picked up some local gigs. We got such a positive reception that after graduation we all stayed in Boston, rented a house together and continued playing the local music circuit. We were headlining at clubs and making a hundred bucks a night, which seemed like a fortune to us,” she recalled with a laugh. “By the time we decided to record an EP, we had a pretty big following in Boston. The rest is history, I guess.”

  “History in the making,” Viggo said, smiling. “You guys make some really great music. I can’t stop listening to your albums.”

  Scarlett felt a thrill of pleasure. “Really?”

  “Why do you sound surprised? Your drumming skills are phenomenal and you’ve got the voice of an angel. Seriously, Scarlett. You guys are awesome.”

  The warmth of his praise had her blushing. “Thank you, Viggo.”

  He smiled. “Just giving credit where credit is due.”

  Grinning hard, she turned her body so she could more easily face him as she relaxed into the plush leather couch. “I loved touring in Sweden this summer. We performed at a festival in Stockholm, which was my favorite stop on the tour.”

  “Yeah?” Viggo’s expression warmed with pleasure. “What did you love so much about my hometown?”

  “Everything,” she gushed. “The historic architecture, the delicious cuisine, the lively music scene, the beautiful lakes and canals. It’s so lush and green with all those parks, and I loved the winding cobblestone streets of the Old Town—”

  “Gamla Stan,” Viggo supplied.

  “Yes! Gamla Stan! I know it can get a little crowded and touristy, but I thought it was absolutely gorgeous and charming. So were the locals, which was kinda surprising.” At Viggo’s raised eyebrow, she hastened to explain, “I’ve always heard that Swedes are cold and unfriendly to strangers—”

  “No way.”

  Scarlett laughed at his mock outrage. “Contrary to what I was expecting, we met a lot of really nice people who answered our questions and told us the best places to eat and shop and sightsee. There’s so much more I wanted to see and do. I wish we could have stayed longer.” She smiled at Viggo, cradling her cup between her hands. “You must have loved growing up in Stockholm.”

  “I did,” he said with a languid smile.

  “I read somewhere that you spent most of your summers at your grandparents’ farm. You must have so many fond memories of those days.”

  The faintest shadow flickered over his face before he nodded and smiled. “My siblings and I enjoyed visiting the farm every summer. We rode horses, picked berries, went swimming in the lake, you name it.”

  Scarlett smiled. “Sounds wonderful and idyllic. Did you have chores?”

  “We did,” he said with wry amusement.

  She grinned teasingly. “That must be how you developed those massive shoulders—hefting bales of hay and mucking out stalls.”

  He flashed her a cocky grin. “Are you saying I have a killer bod?”

  “What?” she sputtered laughingly. “I said no such thing!”

  “But that’s what you were implying. Admit it.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Really, dude? Full of yourself much?”

  He grinned and gave her a slow wink. So fucking hot.

  “I want to learn Swedish before we go back next summer,” she told him, changing the subject. “Will you teach me?”

  “Of course.”

 
“Really?”

  “It’d be my pleasure.”

  She beamed. Seriously, there was no other word for it.

  “Of course,” he drawled, “I might want something in return.”

  She stared at him, her heart picking up an extra beat. “Like what?”

  His eyelids lowered and he gave her a look that was full of wicked intent. “I’ll let you know.”

  Anticipation tightened her stomach. She almost forgot to breathe.

  Viggo took a long, slow drink of his coffee, watching her over the rim of his cup.

  She lowered her eyes to her own cup and lifted it to her mouth, sipping her cappuccino until there was no more left.

  They set their empty cups down at the same time and then sat back against the couch, facing each other without speaking. Sexual tension crackled in the air between them, fierce and potent. Every breath they took, every flutter of an eyelash, felt like foreplay.

  As Viggo stretched his arm across the back of the couch, the motion drew Scarlett’s gaze to his forearm. It was thick and strong, corded with muscle beneath a dusting of golden hair.

  She couldn’t help grinning. “Dude, you are so hairy.”

  He glanced down at himself and chuckled. “Blame my Nordic ancestors. From what I’ve heard, they were some furry ass motherfuckers.”

  Scarlett let out a peal of laughter.

  Viggo grinned.

  Without thinking she reached out and stroked his forearm. The silky blond hair tickled her palm, but she was more fascinated by the goosebumps that broke out over his skin.

  Goosebumps. From her touch.

  Slowly she lifted her eyes to his.

  He was staring intently at her.

  Her breath snagged, then raced.

  When she tried to remove her hand from his arm, he grabbed it, keeping it firmly in place with his other hand.

  As they stared at each other, she felt an intense yearning bloom deep in the pit of her stomach.

  Viggo held onto her hand, rubbing his thumb against the pulse thumping wildly in her wrist. The rhythmic motion set off a throbbing between the folds of her sex.

  “Viggo,” she whispered. That was all. Just his name.

  His hooded eyes flicked to her lips as he swiped his tongue along his.

  Her pulse skittered crazily.

  Time seemed to slow to a standstill as Viggo leaned toward her, his eyes on her mouth.