Snow fell on them as they walked, the flakes beginning to grow thicker as they neared the cabins. Rudi’s hand held hers tightly, a physical reminder of their growing relationship, although their gloves seemed to symbolise the fact that they were really strangers with a barrier between them.
They’re just gloves, she thought fiercely. It doesn’t mean anything.
They didn’t speak as they walked this time, but she could feel the promise of things to come hanging in the air between them like a sparkling Christmas bauble.
Her thoughts raced along with her heart. Should she? Shouldn’t she? She felt caught up in worries about what was right and proper, and what Bridget would think, and of being disloyal to Damon, and that it wasn’t fair on Oscar. There were so many issues to think about and considerations to take into account, and she didn’t want to do any of that. She wanted this man, this glorious Viking, to take her in his arms and hold her, and kiss her, and beyond that she didn’t want to think at all.
Rudi stopped at the place where the paths to their cabins divided and turned to her.
“Your place or mine?” she tried to joke, but found it difficult to summon a smile, her nerves finally leaking through.
He pretended to consider it, however, and then said, “My place has whiskey.”
“Your place it is then.” She was surprised by the relief that washed over her. Oscar slept in her bed; she doubted Isabel slept in his. It just seemed more…appropriate.
He opened the door and stood back to let her precede him.
Eva went in, unbuttoning her coat. The cabin was almost identical to hers, just a mirror image, with the bed against the opposite wall. It had similar views of the forest, though, and she laid her coat over the back of a chair and walked to the window, pretending to look at the view while she took deep breaths to calm herself.
Rudi moved around the room behind her, and she heard the rustle of fabric as he slipped off his coat, then the clink of glasses and the sound of the whiskey being poured into them.
Then he appeared by her side and held out the glass.
She took it and looked at the amber liquid. He’d added a dash of water, from the colour, and a couple of ice cubes. She swirled the whiskey over the cubes to cool it. She didn’t drink spirits much, but her father drank Scotch, and once she’d turned eighteen and he’d offered her a glass in the evenings, she’d got used to the taste.
Raising the glass, she inhaled the scent and then sipped it, letting it sear down to her stomach, warming her insides. Rudi did the same, and they stood looking at the snow, watching the way the wind whipped the flakes into eddies that seemed to dance across the fields.
“Still no sign of the Northern Lights,” she murmured, looking up at the cloudy, dark sky.
“We are saving that for Christmas Eve,” Rudi said. He sounded as if he was smiling, so she glanced up at him. Yes, he was, his gaze on her, those bright blue eyes studying her, lit with the mixture of amusement and desire she was beginning to fall in love with.
He looked out, showing her his profile and giving her the chance to study his strong features. His hair was a tad damp right at the nape—he’d showered, she thought, the realisation filling her with a similar glow to the whiskey. She’d done the same of course—had showered, shaved under her arms and her legs and her bikini line, smothered herself in cream and perfume, and tried on half a dozen outfits before finally getting exasperated with herself and settling on jeans and her favourite cream Aran sweater over a pink T-shirt. It wasn’t sexy particularly, but it was a bit cold to be sexy, and she hoped it made her look cute, if nothing else.
Rudi sighed. “Isabel said you told her that even though Santa isn’t real and reindeer don’t fly, Christmas can still be magical.”
“Did I say that? It sounds like something I’d say.” She smiled.
“It was a nice thing to say. I think she is beginning to understand the difficulties of getting older and why we tell our children the things we do.” He looked back at her. “You are such a kind person. So calm and gentle.”
Unused to compliments, his words make her blink. She tried to brush them off. “Clearly you don’t know me very well then.” And she tried to cover up how flustered she felt by taking a large mouthful of the whiskey. “We call this Dutch courage,” she said, looking into the glass. “Why Dutch, I wonder? Do you call it Finnish courage here?”
“Soldiers in the Thirty Years’ War drank Dutch gin, which is where it came from,” he said. “And it was English soldiers fighting in the Dutch republic in the seventeenth century who named it ‘Dutch courage.’”
“You’re full of interesting information,” she said, remembering what he’d told Oscar about the reindeer.
“I am like an encyclopaedia,” he agreed, “so therefore you should believe me when I tell you how beautiful you are, because I know everything.” His eyes twinkled.
Standing just inches from him, she was struck again by how big he was; he seemed to tower over her, tall and broad. The blue jumper made his eyes seem even more like a summer sky. What was his body like beneath it? Somehow she knew it would be firm and muscular. Her fingers itched to lift the woollen garment and slide beneath it to touch his skin.
She didn’t move though, too nervous, caught up in her thoughts that tangled her emotions like a web.
Outside, the snow fell, casting them in a silvery light. Inside, Rudi moved a little closer to her until their bodies were nearly touching. One hand in his pocket, he lifted the hand holding the glass and ran the back of his fingers along her cheekbone. “So beautiful,” he murmured.
She moistened her lips with her tongue, and with that he gave her a slightly exasperated look, blew out a breath, then dipped his head and kissed her.
Eva caught her breath and closed her eyes.
His lips were warm and firm. They moved across hers slowly, soft gentle butterfly kisses meant to relax and explore.
He kissed her mouth, then up across her cheekbones, along her nose, brushed his lips over her eyelids. Everything tingled, from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. His mouth returned to hers and he continued his gentle pressure on her lips, his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin a very little, making her shiver.
When his tongue stroked her bottom lip, she inhaled, and he lifted his head. “You want me stop, my Christmas Eva?” Smiling, he lifted his other hand out of his pocket and cupped her face.
She shook her head, feeling as if she were in a dream. “No.”
He finished off his drink and put the glass on the nearby table. Eva did the same, gasping as the large mouthful of whiskey seared down inside her, and he took the glass and put that on the table too.
He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her ever so gently so her back was against the window, then moved forwards until his body just touched hers, filling her senses until all she could see, all she could think of was him.
Then he kissed her properly.
She’d never been kissed like it. So slowly, so sensuously, as gentle as the falling snow and yet it fired up her blood and made her heart hammer against her ribs.
He pinned her to the glass, leaning on her as he deepened the kiss, and Eva’s heart pounded. She slid her hands up his chest, wanting to feel the muscles she was sure lay beneath the jumper. As if he’d read her mind, he pulled back, grabbed hold of a handful of the jumper behind his neck, yanked it over his head and dropped it to the floor. Not bothering to smooth his ruffled hair, his lips immediately found their way back to hers as he pulled her into his arms and crushed her to him.
She gasped, and when her mouth opened, he swept his tongue inside, tasting her, setting her alight. It felt so intimate, so incredibly hot… She couldn’t believe this gorgeous guy, this sexy Viking, was holding her, liked her, seemed to want her so much.
Desperate to touch him, she rested her hands on his chest, feeling his defined muscles beneath the shirt. Wait, she told herself, slow down… But her hands wouldn’t stop, movin
g from button to button and popping them through the holes until she could move the sides apart to reveal what lay beneath.
She pushed back a little to inspect him, needing to see what he looked like. He’d said he spent time in Italy and Spain, and that must account for the light tan, she thought, having expected the very pale skin of the Scandinavians to lie beneath. But he was lightly bronzed and beautiful, the muscles sculpted and just a bench press off a six-pack, his pecs and ribs sprinkled with an attractively masculine scattering of brown hair. His flat nipples were small and tight, and as she brushed her thumbs over them, he inhaled and let out a deep, sexy growl.
“My turn,” he stated firmly, and she let him take hold of the hem of her Aran and lift it over her head. Her hair lifted and fell as he dropped the jumper to the floor, and he sank a hand into it, lifted it and ran his fingers through it.
“Like melted chocolate,” he murmured, letting it run through his fingers. He slid his hand down, running the back of his fingers along her cheekbone until his thumb brushed her mouth. “You are so sensual, Eva, in everything you do, do you know that? When you eat, you savour every mouthful, every morsel. When you put your fork in your mouth, and you pull it out ever so slowly as if you have not eaten for a month and every bite is just the best thing you have ever eaten… Do you know how sexy that is?”
She blinked, puzzled at his words, almost certain he must be making fun of her. Sure, she enjoyed her food, but he made it sound as if just watching her eat turned him on. He must be joking, surely?
His lips curved. “You do not believe me.”
“No,” she said huskily.
“You should be told how beautiful you are all day, every day.”
Emotion tightened her throat, made tears prick her eyes. “Rudi…”
He pressed his thumb to her lips, halting her protest. “Every day,” he confirmed.
His gaze met hers. Sincerity shone in his bright blue eyes, along with warmth and genuine affection.
“You don’t know me,” she mumbled beneath his thumb. “Not really. I’m bad tempered and grumpy in the mornings, and I bear a grudge, like, forever, and I’m flighty and have a butterfly mind, and—”
The thumb obviously hadn’t worked, so he kissed her instead. He pulled her into his arms and wrapped them around her, holding her tight, and kissed her until everything tingled and throbbed, until all her worries and doubts had flown away.
He pulled back and grasped the hem of her T-shirt, waited for her nod, then lifted it over her head and let it drop to the floor.
Eva watched his gaze drop to her breasts, her body warming in response to his heated stare. She’d wanted to do the same, to study his body, to treat herself to a view she hadn’t had in a long time, so she let him do the same, and gave him time to just look. He skimmed light fingers down from her shoulders over her breastbone, then traced the generous swell of her breasts, displayed in the best bra she’d brought with her, a white lacy affair with pretty half cups.
Mumbling something in Finnish, he kissed her again, pushing her back against the window, but he’d obviously forgotten she had no protection between her skin and the glass because the cold made her gasp with shock, her mouth opening under his.
He laughed, said “Sorry,” and before she could say anything, placed his hands under her bottom and picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist.
Chapter Eleven
As Rudi picked Eva up, she gasped again as if afraid he’d drop her, but he held her tightly and walked across the room, kissing her soundly. His whole body thrummed with passion and longing.
Before he’d met Vanessa, he’d never been the sort of guy to indulge in one-night stands and much preferred to date for at least a few weeks and usually longer before moving to the bedroom. He’d wondered how awkward they were going to feel, two almost-strangers, brought together out of loneliness and mutual need. But to his surprise, he didn’t feel embarrassed or awkward or indeed anything except a deep desire for this woman who was opening up to him like a flower after the first snows, and who clearly wanted him as much as he wanted her.
They reached the bed, and he turned and sat carefully, lying back so she sat astride him.
She pushed herself upright. “Rudi, I’ve just thought…”
He traced his fingers around her breasts, still enclosed in their lacy white cups. “Yes, armas?”
She raised her eyebrows. “What does that mean?”
He thought about it, not realising until she remarked on it that the word had come out in Finnish. “Sweetheart.”
“I thought that was rakas.”
He was touched that she’d taken the trouble to remember the word. “Rakas is more for one’s children. Like…sweetie. Armas is more for one’s lover.”
She smiled and blushed prettily. “Um… Anyway… Would have you have… I mean, I never thought to bring….Well, why would I?” She gave a nervous laugh. “I mean, it’s not the sort of thing… I don’t just carry them in case… Oh dear.”
He chuckled, knowing where she was going. “I have protection if that is what you are asking. Do not worry.” He had a couple of condoms in his wallet. They’d been there for a while so hopefully they weren’t out of date, but they should suffice, he thought. He extracted his wallet from his jeans, took a condom out and threw it onto the duvet.
She leaned forwards over him, her hair falling around his face as she bent down to look into his eyes. Her face looked serious, maybe every wary.
He rested his hands on her ribcage, his thumbs stroking beneath her bra. “Are you okay?” He’d prepared himself for this. “Having second thoughts? Because that is all right; I want you to be sure.”
Her gaze dropped to his mouth. Suddenly he realised it wasn’t wariness in her eyes. The pupils had dilated, and her breathing had quickened.
It was desire.
“No, armas,” she said huskily. “No second thoughts.”
She lowered her lips to his, and he let her kiss him, let her nibble his lips, discover with her tongue, tantalise and tease him until he grew hard as a rock beneath her. She kissed down his neck, over his chest, flicked her tongue over his nipples, touched her tongue to his skin and nuzzled with her nose as if using all her senses to explore him.
Then she sat upright and reached behind her, unclipped her bra, slid the straps down her arms and tossed it onto the bed.
He inhaled and blew out a slow breath, making her giggle. She had full breasts, heavy and rounded without being over-large, topped with dusky pink nipples that had tightened in the coolness of the room. He’d turned the thermostat up, but he couldn’t exactly say it was toasty inside.
“Are you cold?” He cupped her breasts and stroked her tightened nipples with his thumbs.
She shook her head, but her skin had goose bumps.
He pulled the duvet across on the other side of the bed. “Right,” he said, lifting her onto the bed beside him. “In, quick!”
Laughing, they shucked their jeans, and he let the shirt fall to the ground and slid off his boxers and socks, and she did the same with her panties, and they scrambled under the covers.
Lying on his side, he took her in his arms and pulled the thick duvet up to their shoulders. “Better?”
She nodded, her eyes bright, and snuggled up to him, and he lowered his head and kissed her. For the first time he felt her pressed against him, skin to skin. Her body was womanly soft, not hard and muscled, silky smooth, as if she wore a satin dress that let his hands glide from her shoulder, down over her breasts and hips to her thighs.
“Mmm,” she murmured, sliding her hands around his waist to stroke up his back. “You are even better than I imagined.”
He chuckled and kissed her cheek, then her jaw and down her neck. “And you are sublime.”
He wanted to look at her again, so he moved to kneel astride her, took her hands and placed them above her head on the pillow so she lay stretched out beneath him. He devoured her hungrily with his gaze, and then
touched her, starting at the top and stroking the soft, white skin under her arms, then running his hands down to her shoulders and over the swell of her breasts. She watched him, her teeth tugging on her bottom lip as he stroked down to her navel.
“Tickles?” he said, smiling.
“I just…” She chewed her lip and then gave a bashful smile. “Nobody’s seen me naked for a while. I’d forgotten that everything heads south after you have a baby.”
He ran his fingers lightly over her the swell of her stomach. “You are so beautiful, Eva. Your body is womanly, soft and sensual. You cannot doubt what effect you are having on me?” Lips twitching, he directed her gaze downwards.
She looked down for the first time, as if it was okay now he’d finally given her permission, and her cheeks flushed a deep red as she saw how hard and ready for her he was. “Oh.” Her chest rose and fell with her rapid breaths, and she moistened her lips in the way that made his blood thunder through his veins. “Goodness. Um…condom time?”
He laughed and lowered himself onto his elbows. “You are in such a rush! You really want it to be all over now we have finally got each other into bed?”
“Er…”
He kissed her, long and languidly, his tongue sliding against hers, enjoying the sweet taste of her, the heat of her mouth, the nip of her teeth. “First I want to taste you,” he said, kissing her cheeks, her eyelids as they fluttered closed. “I want to cover every inch of you with my mouth from your fingertips to your toes. I haven’t done this in so long, Eva, and your body is driving me insane.” He kissed her again, plunging his tongue into her mouth, then raised his head to look into her eyes. “Will you let me do this? Will you let me taste you?”
She swallowed and nodded as if she didn’t trust herself to speak.
So he kept to his word. He started at her hands, which still lay above her on the pillow, and took each of her fingers into his mouth, sucking gently on them until she groaned. He touched his tongue into her palms, then to the inside of her wrists, teasing the sensitive skin and feeling the warmth of the blood in her veins, a sharp contrast to the icy exterior, the snow continuing to fall outside.
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