The Swede

by Maureen Smith

His smile was lazy. “Think so?”

  “Absolutely. You were practically born for the part.” She winked. “And you’re way hotter than Chris Hemsworth.”

  Viggo chuckled softly. He’d been watching her mouth the whole time she talked. When he reached over and brushed the pad of his thumb across her lower lip, everything inside her went hot and needy. She nipped the callused pad with her teeth, watching his gray eyes turn to silver smoke.

  Holding his gaze, she swirled her tongue around his thumb, tasting the spicy warmth of cinnamon.

  His breath hissed out and his body jerked.

  As a thrill of satisfaction rippled through her, she wrapped her lips around the tip of his thumb and slowly sucked it into her mouth.

  His rough groan pulsed between her thighs and curled her toes. With his hooded eyes glued to her mouth, she licked and sucked his thumb, then swallowed him down to the knuckle.

  “Jesus, Scarlett,” he rasped through clenched teeth.

  Her heart bounced out of control.

  When she released his thumb, he took her face in his hands, leaned down and kissed her. Softly at first, deliciously slow, as if he were savoring the taste and feel of her lips. It threw her whole body into a spiraling vortex of want.

  She leaned closer to him, breathless and aching. His fingers curled through her hair, angling her head so he could take her mouth even deeper. Her blood sizzled in her veins and she moaned his name, her breasts tightening against his hard chest.

  He feasted on her mouth, stole her breath and gave her his. She could taste the hot chocolate he’d been drinking and the earthy sweetness of cinnamon on his lips. Her heart was pounding and her skin was on fire. She needed him on top of her like she needed oxygen.

  They were on the same page because he whispered against her mouth, “Lie down.”

  Shivering with anticipation, she scooted down on the truck bed and lay back on the blanket. He followed her down, levering his big body over hers without ever taking his gaze from her face. His eyes were glittering, hot and fierce in the moonlight.

  “I’ve been hard all fucking day imagining you like this,” he said in a low growl. “Do you have any idea how torturous it is to be trapped on a plane for hours with a raging boner?”

  She grinned and reminded him, “Female blue balls.”

  He exhaled on a rough laugh as she slid her hands into his hair, dismantling the sexy man bun. As the silky strands spilled over his beautiful face, she pulled his head back down to hers. His tongue slicked along her lips, parting them, dipping into her mouth with hot lashes that made wetness leak from her pussy into her panties.

  The weight of him pressing her into the truck bed made her feel deliciously dominated. She wrapped her legs around his waist and hooked her heels behind his muscular thighs. Sucking her bottom lip, he slid his hands under her body and cupped her ass. She groaned as he ground his hips against her, his massive erection stroking her slit through her leggings.

  She didn’t care that they had just met. She didn’t care that it was the dead of winter and they were out in the open. She didn’t even care that a homicidal maniac could lunge from the shadows and slaughter them like they were in a horror movie.

  She didn’t care about anything but the feel of Viggo’s body moving against hers. She’d never needed anyone or anything more than she needed him right now.

  “I tried to be good,” he growled, pressing openmouthed kisses along her jaw and down her throat. “You said no kissing on the first date, so I tried my damnedest to be a good boy. But then you had to go and give my poor thumb a fucking blowjob.”

  Her breathless laughter broke off on a gasp of pleasure when he bit her neck, soothing the sting with a swipe of his tongue. Her eyes fluttered closed as he slid his big hands under her sweatshirt, callused palms grazing the bare skin of her stomach. She shivered at the sensation, locking her fingers at the back of his head.

  “So soft,” he murmured against the beating pulse in her neck. “Your skin feels like pure silk.”

  He caressed her curves, working his way up her ribs to cup her breasts through her skimpy lace bra. She whimpered and arched against him, craving his touch, his heat, the wetness of his mouth.

  She felt cold air on her flushed skin as he lifted her sweatshirt. Then he lowered his head and sucked her breast through her bra. A shudder racked her body and she cried out as her nipple peaked and hardened.

  “You’re so fucking sexy,” he rasped, his breath warm against her flesh. “You have no idea how much you turn me on.”

  The mammoth bulge against her stomach gave her a clue, but she didn’t have enough air in her lungs to point that out.

  Before she could draw a needed breath, he pushed her bra cup down and closed his teeth around her sensitive nipple. She released a strangled cry and arched her back, her thighs trembling around him. He let out a raspy growl, flicking his tongue over her nipple before sucking her whole areola into his wet mouth.

  “Oh God,” she gasped.

  His mouth moved to her other breast, suckling deeply, and hot tears stung her eyes. She fisted her hands in his hair, holding him against her. She’d never felt so raw and exposed, so sensitized to a man’s touch. Her nipples burned and her pussy ached. She was so wet for him. So hot and ready.

  He lifted his head and slanted his mouth over hers, drinking deep as his hips rocked against hers in a circling motion that had her empty pussy spasming. The need to have him moving inside her was almost more than she could bear. She moaned his name, running her hands down to the firm, rounded curves of his ass and squeezing.

  She felt his breath hitch against her mouth before he went for the waistband of her leggings. Staring into her eyes, he slipped his hand inside the stretchy fabric and reached between her legs, groaning when he felt the soaked crotch of her boy shorts.

  He uttered something in Swedish, something lustful and dirty. Then he stroked the puffy lips of her sex through her underwear.

  Her body swelled with a rush of pleasure so intense her eyes rolled back in her head. He rubbed her hard clit, the friction sending waves of unquenchable heat through her core.

  She arched her back, writhing against his hand. “Viggo, baby—”

  Her breathless plea was interrupted by a sudden burst of psychedelic rock music. Led Zeppelin’s “No Quarter.”

  For a few dazed moments, she wondered if some sort of high-frequency glitch had caused the jazz station to switch to rock.

  But then Viggo pressed his forehead against hers and rasped, “Don’t fucking answer it.”

  “Wha—?” That was when she realized that the music was coming from the front pocket of her hoodie. It was her ringtone for Traeger, her band’s bassist.

  “Don’t answer it,” Viggo half commanded, half begged.

  Scarlett stared up at him, distracted by the heat of his hand inside her leggings. Traeger had the absolute worst timing in the world.

  When the phone stopped ringing, Viggo lowered his head to nibble her neck, feeding on the pounding pulse point. She shivered and moaned, tangling her hands in the silken thickness of his hair.

  As he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her boy shorts, the phone started right back up again, the music vibrating persistently between them.

  “Fucking hell,” Viggo groaned in frustration.

  Scarlett blew out a resigned breath that lifted her hair off her forehead. “I’d better get it.”

  Viggo shook his head against her neck, then rolled off her and collapsed onto his back.

  She sat up, dug her phone out of her pocket and angled her body away from Viggo to mutter to her bandmate, “What is it?”

  “We’re loading up the van and—wait.” A note of amused incredulity crept into Traeger’s voice. “Are you having sex?”

  Heat scalded her cheeks. “Of course not.”

  “Are you sure? ’Cause you sound kinda out of breath and—”

  “What do you want?” she hissed.

  Traeger chuckled.
“We’re loading up the van. Do you want us to bring your cocktail kit, too?” he asked, referring to the retro drum set that allowed her to play while standing up. She used it sometimes on the road. As a drummer, she liked to keep things interesting.

  “Your regular drum kit already takes up a lot of space,” Traeger added, “but we know how much you love the cock—”

  “Bring it,” Scarlett said, trying to keep her voice low.

  “You got it, boss lady. We’re really stoked about going on tour with Black—”

  “Uh-huh. Me, too.” Scarlett glanced over at Viggo. His hooded eyes were fixed on her, and he was still sporting major wood. Lordy.

  “What’s the name of the hotel again?” Traeger asked.

  Scarlett swallowed. “I’ll text it to you.”

  “Cool.” Traeger sounded amused. He knew something was up with her. “Have a safe trip.”

  “Thanks. You, too.” She shoved her phone back into her pocket and sent a rueful glance at Viggo. “Sorry about that.”

  He sat halfway up, leaning back on his elbows. “Who was that?”

  “One of my bandmates.”

  Viggo’s eyebrows knitted. “Does he always call you this late?”

  “Sometimes later.” If she didn’t know better, she would think Viggo was jealous. “He just had a question about something.”

  She still wasn’t ready to tell Viggo that she was leaving town. She wanted to eke out every moment she had left with him, because there was no guarantee that their budding romance would survive a nearly three-week separation.

  “I’m proposing a new rule,” he said darkly. “Whenever we’re together, our phones have to be turned off.”

  Scarlett grinned. “Like at the movie theater?”

  “Yeah.” One side of his mouth curled upward. “Deal?”

  “Deal.” Her grin spread. “But I just have to point out that we weren’t interrupted by a phone call in Detroit. We were interrupted by your teammate.”

  “And now one of your teammates is the cockblocker,” Viggo grumbled.

  Scarlett laughed.

  Lips twitching wryly, Viggo raked a hand through his mussed hair. His broad shoulders and chest stretched the expensive fabric of his sweater, and his dark jeans clung to his muscular thighs. He looked so fucking good that she wanted to climb on top of him and go for a hard ride.

  “Don’t look at me like that unless you’re ready to pick up where we left off.”

  His growled warning skittered over her skin and made her insides clench. She dragged her gaze away from his crotch and released a shaky sigh. “As much as I’d love to let you score in the back of your truck, we should probably get going. It’s late and we both have to be up early.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that.” He blew out a resigned breath, then sat all the way up and gave her a crooked half grin. “Just remember. No phones allowed on our date tonight.”

  Scarlett smiled weakly, guilt flashing through her.

  She planned to tell him on the way home while his attention was divided between her and driving. What happened instead was that they held hands and laughed quietly, stealing kisses at every traffic light and stop sign.

  When they pulled up to her house, she let him walk her to the front door and kiss her some more because she couldn’t get enough. Then she stood in the doorway, lips tingling, and watched him saunter back to his truck and drive off with a lazy wave.

  Climbing the stairs to her room, she decided to swing by the Rebels’ practice facility on her way to the airport.

  Any excuse to see him one more time.

  Chapter 7

  Scarlett

  Hello Goodbye

  * * *

  “Got everything?” lennox asked, appearing in the doorway of Scarlett’s bedroom after loading her suitcases into his car.

  “I think so.” She was rushing around checking to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. She liked to get to the airport as early as possible because of all the security procedures. But she’d overslept because she was dreaming about Viggo, and now she was cutting it close to catch her flight.

  Her brother shook his head at her, neat black dreadlocks brushing his wide shoulders. As she darted to and fro, he tsk-tsked and folded his arms across his barrel chest, stressing the seams of his shirt.

  “Let’s go, baby girl,” he urged, tapping his watch. “Whatever you don’t have, you can buy in New York.”

  “I know.” Scarlett grabbed a silver bracelet off her dresser and slid it onto her wrist. She’d already packed a bunch of them, but a girl could never have too many accessories.

  As she hustled toward the door, Lennox wagged his head at her. “It’s so unlike you to be running late. Mom, yes. You? Doesn’t happen. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. I just overslept.”

  “Totally unlike—” He broke off, his dark eyes zeroing in on the side of her neck. “Is that a hickey?”

  “Wh-what? Of course not.” Scarlett tugged at the plaid scarf she’d put on to hide the faint purplish bruise she’d discovered that morning.

  Lennox’s eyes narrowed. “Sure looks like a hickey to me.”

  “It’s not.” She could still feel the wet heat of Viggo’s mouth sucking her neck, biting her sensitive skin as she moaned and writhed beneath him.

  Lennox eyed her with amused suspicion as she fussed with the scarf, trying to hide the incriminating evidence. She’d have to apply concealer before she saw her bandmates, or she’d never hear the end of it.

  “What aren’t you telling me, little girl?”

  “Nothing. C’mon, let’s go.” Scarlett pushed her brother out the door and followed him down the staircase.

  Their father emerged from his study off the high-ceilinged foyer. He was working from home that day, something he’d been doing more often to appease his wife. Scarlett shuddered to imagine the things that went on when they had the house to themselves.

  “I was just coming to see if you were leaving yet,” her father said to her. “You’re cutting it kinda close, aren’t you? Your mother’s the tardy one in the family, not you.”

  Lennox snickered. “That’s what I told her.”

  Lavell raised a salt-and-pepper brow at Scarlett. “Would your tardiness have anything to do with your late-night outing with that young man?”

  Scarlett blushed. “Dad, please—”

  “What young man?” Lennox divided a questioning glance between his father and sister. “What’s going on?”

  “Scarlett snuck out with Viggo Sandström last night—”

  “I didn’t sneak—”

  “I knew it!” Lennox exclaimed with a laugh. “I knew something was up with you this morning!”

  Lavell grunted. “Your mother’s over the moon, of course. Before she left for spin class this morning, she was on the phone making lunch plans with your aunt Eden. I’m sure Nadia’s wedding won’t be the only topic of conversation between those two.”

  Lennox grinned. “I’m sure.”

  “You know I have some thoughts on the matter—”

  “Can we not do this right now?” Scarlett interjected. “I have a plane to catch.”

  “Of course. We’ll talk when you get back.” Her father gave her a warm bear hug and kissed her forehead. “Have a good trip, baby girl. Call us as soon as you land in New York, and check in every day to let us know how you’re doing.”

  “I will,” she promised.

  “Be safe and smart. Don’t go wandering off on your own, especially at night. I know you can handle yourself, but your martial arts skills won’t stop a bullet or a gang of rapists. And if you must go out partying, don’t accept drinks from strange men—”

  “I know, Dad,” Scarlett said, smiling indulgently. He gave her the same lecture every time she left home to go on tour. She usually broke at least half of his rules on the first day.

  He wagged a stern finger at her. “No sharing rooms with your bandmates.”

  “I won’t. I’ll hav
e my own room.”

  “Good.” He walked her to the door. “I transferred a thousand dollars to your account.”

  Her throat tightened. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “You were running low on funds.”

  “But I get paid on Friday—”

  He snorted. “The pittance you earn from that music shop can hardly be called a paycheck.”

  “But a grand, though? I’m sending back half.”

  “Which I’ll just send right back to you with another grand.”

  Scarlett knew it wasn’t an idle threat. She smiled softly and leaned up to kiss his smooth-shaven cheek. “Thank you, Daddy.”

  He patted her shoulder. “Take good care of yourself. We’ll see you on Christmas Eve.”

  Scarlett was already feeling homesick as she climbed into her brother’s car. When he turned on the ignition, Frank Ocean’s “Novacane” blasted out of the stereo.

  “Sorry.” Lennox turned the music down with a sheepish grin.

  “I need to make a stop on the way to the airport,” Scarlett blurted.

  Lennox shook his head. “Like I said, whatever you don’t have—”

  “I don’t need to stop at the store. I need you to take me to the Rebels’ practice facility.”

  “For what?”

  “To say goodbye to Viggo.”

  Lennox frowned at her. “Why didn’t you say goodbye when you saw him last night?”

  “Technically it was this morning, and I had my reasons for not saying goodbye.”

  “Such as?”

  She bit her lip. “It’s complicated.”

  Lennox gave her a long, searching look. “So this is really happening, huh?”

  She swallowed and nodded.

  Something soft flickered in her brother’s eyes before he glanced at the dashboard clock and grimaced. “You’re really cutting it—”

  “—close. I know. And I don’t care.” Her voice quieted. “I’m not leaving town without telling him goodbye.”

  Lennox stared at her another moment, then sighed and started backing out of the driveway. “I’ll drive fast—”

  She smiled. “Thank you, Lenny.”