Stockholm Diaries, Melanie

by Rebecca Hunter

  “How long did you know my father before he left for the U.S.?” she asked.

  Henrik blinked.

  “Just one summer,” he said. His brow was furrowed, as if he were trying to follow the jumps that this conversation had taken. “My mother—my parents, that is—bought this place the same summer as Björn bought his cabin. My mother and I met him the first day we came out here in June. I think he left that September, and after that I didn’t see him for at least 20 years. Why are you asking?”

  Mel shook her head. All of a sudden, she felt outrageously angry at her father. Furious enough to throw the photo across the room. Instead, she took the photo out of his hands and placed it back on the table. Mel turned to walk—where? She had no idea. Henrik was about to drive her on his boat to the mainland so she could talk to her grandmother. She was about to visit the grocery store, stocked with foods that made her mouth water, foods like… well, like just about anything that wasn’t pasta. And she suddenly didn’t care.

  She headed for the door, but Henrik reached it before she did. He stood in front of it and took her by the arms, holding her firmly. Then he drew her closer.

  “Melanie,” he said. His voice was soft but firm. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  Mel closed her eyes. She wanted to tell him what she was thinking, but if he had gone this many years without wondering the same thing himself, then he must not want to know it. No, she couldn’t say it—not yet. Not without proof.

  Mel felt his hands drift from her arms down to her waist and then pull her into him, and she didn’t resist. And as he held her and her anger began to fade, her mind replayed the scene that had just occurred. Despite her fury moments ago, her instinct to protect Henrik from the pain her suspicion would cause had taken over. It was stronger than her hurt.

  “I want to work right after we get back,” she said, resting her head against his chest.

  “Okay. Why?” he asked, and she thought she heard something guarded in his voice.

  “That journal you wanted to read? Now I want to read it, too. This afternoon.”

  THE BOAT RIDE over to the mainland was bumpy and long, not very conducive to talking. Which was fine with her, Mel decided. She wasn’t sure what she would say to Henrik if he pressed her further about her sudden interest in the journal she had previously avoided. And when she stopped to think about it, Henrik seemed a little distracted, too. Which, again, worked out just fine right now.

  As the boat drifted up to the long mainland dock, Mel rummaged through her handbag and pulled out her phone.

  “I’ll just stay here and call my grandmother,” she said as Henrik secured the line to the dock. She took off her life jacket and settled back into the seat. “I’ll meet you at the grocery store.”

  “Absolutely not,” he snapped.

  Mel looked at his tight frown, and she wasn’t sure whether or not to laugh. He wasn’t going to start ordering her around again, was he? Finally she found her voice.

  “Are you serious?”

  Henrik’s eyes narrowed, and there was no trace of humor on his face. With only a few quick steps, he was back in the boat, standing only inches away.

  “Are you serious?” he asked in a low voice. “You don’t expect me to leave you in the exact same place where you almost drowned only a few weeks ago, do you?”

  She was surprised by his intensity, and she took him in warily—his large body purposely close, the heat of his breath on her forehead, reminding her of other, much different circumstances. His hand had found its way around her arm. Mel looked down at his grip and met Henrik’s eyes again. His eyes flitted down to his own hand, and he let go.

  “I still think your negotiation skills need a little refining, Henrik,” she said softly.

  Henrik closed his eyes as she spoke his name. Mel was silent. She could feel her muscles, tense and alert with an almost visceral impulse to rebel against what he was demanding of her—for no other reason than his authoritative tone. And this impulse wouldn’t lead anywhere good, as she had already learned this summer, more than once.

  Mel took a deep breath, trying to suppress her own bubbling irritation. In reality, she didn’t care where she called her grandmother. It was the way he spoke to her that made her bristle and dig in her heels.

  Henrik ran his hand through his hair. Then he shook his head and looked at the ground, apparently finding this situation just as frustrating as she was.

  “This isn’t a negotiation, Melanie,” he said stubbornly. But then his voice softened. “What were you thinking?”

  “If I made that mistake last time, don’t you think I’ll be smart enough to avoid it this time?”

  There were so many challenges implicit in her statement. Henrik gave a little snort.

  “I’m not going to answer that,” he said, but the hardness in his eyes relaxed a little.

  Mel looked down at the water lapping against the posts of the dock. The truth was that though the event the last time she was here had caused her recent nightmares, at this particular moment she wasn’t thinking that much about it. The prospect of her grandmother answering some—or maybe even all—of her questions was much too distracting. Mel looked back up at him.

  “Look, you’re right. I’m distracted, and I wasn’t thinking about…” She paused, searching for what to say about their previous experience on this dock. “…about what happened last time. But you don’t have to scold me for it.”

  He gave her a wry smile.

  “You’re right. I don’t have to be so condescending, controlling—”

  Mel cut him off.

  “Stop. You’re listing these traits off like you’re proud of them.”

  He frowned and shook his head.

  “No, Melanie,” he said quietly. “I’m not proud of them at all. But I just don’t see how you can still be surprised.”

  “Haven’t we come further than this?” she said, almost to herself.

  But he was listening. She felt his arms come around her, drawing her in, closing the last of the distance between them. And despite herself, she welcomed it. Despite her anger and frustration, there was something about being close to Henrik, touching him, feeling his body against hers, that she didn’t want to stop herself from responding to. Or maybe she couldn’t stop herself.

  Mel glanced down the empty dock. Only a couple boats were tied up, and their owners were out of sight. She wasn’t much for public affection, but they seemed to have the whole dock to themselves.

  Her fingers found their way under his soft cotton shirt, onto the hard, hot muscles of Henrik’s back. She felt him stir at her touch, and he pulled her closer. He buried his head in her hair and kissed her.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “There’s something about you that makes me feel… After what happened right here…”

  Mel felt his hand ruffling her hair, finding her neck. He held her, slowly stroking her skin with his thumb.

  “In the past, my relationships weren’t much about compromise and discussion. And as you know, that didn’t go so well.”

  Mel felt herself stiffen. Quite frankly, she didn’t want to hear anything about his other relationships right now. She pulled away so she could see his face.

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  Henrik gave a humorless laugh.

  “I can see that it doesn’t.”

  Mel raised an eyebrow and pulled further away.

  “I don’t really want to hear about how you ordered your ex-wife around, let alone hear you imply that I’m not sufficiently submissive compared to her,” she said.

  “I don’t want that from you,” he said. He gave a little snort and added, “At least not most of the time. Though right now it might be nice.”

  Henrik gave her a hint of a smile and leaned down to brush his lips against hers.

  “Why?” she asked. “Why do you have to be in control all the time?”

  “I don’t k
now,” he said. “I don’t want to think about that right now, okay?”

  Mel could feel his heart thumping wildly as her head rested on his chest. The mix of his hand on his neck, the muscles under her fingers, and his words—yes, his words, too… Why this man? How could she be so drawn to a man who seemed to be everything she didn’t want?

  Mel felt a sudden wave of sympathy for her mother. Had she felt like this about Björn? Did he hold her like this, kiss her? Did he make her feel like she had finally found what she didn’t know she was looking for? Because Mel had only known Henrik for weeks, not years, but if the same thing were to happen, if she were to find out that the passion she had felt from him was actually for someone else, well, she couldn’t—

  “Melanie?”

  There was something in Henrik’s voice—fear?—and Mel realized her fingers were now digging into the hard muscles of his back, holding onto him as tightly as she could.

  “Tell me,” he said in that same voice that tugged at her. “Don’t shut me out.”

  She felt him swallow hard against her.

  “We keep coming back to the same issues, and all our discussions and arguments seem to end in sex as some kind of resolution. But we’re stuck here. This isn’t a healthy relationship.”

  “Don’t say that,” he whispered. She felt his lips on her forehead. “Please, don’t. Not when I’m trying so hard.”

  Mel realized he was holding onto her just as tightly now.

  “We’ll keep working on it, Melanie.”

  She felt his large body surge against her, and he whispered, “Fuck, I want you right now.”

  The problem was that Mel felt the same.

  He caught her cheek in his hand and brought her mouth up to his. The kiss was hard and rough and full of raw desire. She opened her mouth to taste him, trying to keep up with this sudden flood overloading her senses. He licked and sucked and bit her lips with such an urgency that her legs threatened to give out. She grabbed him for support. The fact that they were now in public didn’t seem to register with him. She felt his great body thrust against hers, and her own body responded, sending jolts of pleasure through her.

  He stopped and took her face in his hands.

  “I want to be inside you so much,” he groaned.

  “Me, too. I can’t help it,” she panted.

  The corners of Henrik’s mouth turned up a little.

  “Sex can’t be our whole resolution, but it can be part, can’t it?”

  She found the heady mix of his scent, his heat and his hard body against her impossible to resist. Her thoughts disappeared, leaving only desire, a deep-seated desire she didn’t want to contemplate further.

  Mel looked up into the dark eyes that waited for her. She nodded slowly.

  “Isn’t there some sort of bed down there?” she whispered, pointing under the deck of the boat.

  This was all the encouragement he needed. Henrik took her by the hand and backed down the narrow stairs, into the tiny boat cabin. Most of the area was taken up by a wide ledge lined with cushions that could serve as either seats or a bed. There wasn’t enough room to fully stand, though Mel was pretty sure that what Henrik had in mind had nothing to do with standing. Not this time, at least. She was beginning to regret her pencil skirt, not particularly great for navigating boat steps and other small spaces.

  Henrik sat down in the middle of the cushions. He put his hands on his knees and closed his eyes, but the uneven rasps of his breath in the quiet cabin betrayed his calm, controlled exterior. Mel stood only inches away, and she reached down to run her hand along the slope of his neck, over his well-defined shoulders. Her touch seemed to awaken him. He opened his eyes and reached forward to wrap his hands around her thighs.

  His hands travelled up the inside of her skirt, along the back of her legs and rested on her rear. His fingertips slipped under her panties, and with a slow caress he pulled them down her thighs. She was naked underneath her skirt now, and the cool air made her shiver. Henrik gave a dark smile. Mel arched her eyebrows at him.

  “Take off your shirt,” she said. Actually, it came out more as a command.

  She couldn’t read the expression that passed over Henrik’s face.

  “Are you ordering me around now?”

  His voice was a warning she ignored. Mel tried to repress her smile, but she wasn’t successful. He studied her for a moment and then began to pull off his shirt. Mel watched as the white cotton disappeared, revealing more and more of his large, muscular torso. She was conscious that her mouth was hanging open, and she swallowed and closed it. How could he still have this effect on her? She had seen and touched his body every day for weeks, but the powerful draw of touching him hadn’t let up.

  Mel reached out a hand to run it over his tanned skin, but he caught it, mid-air, and shook his head.

  “Your turn,” he murmured.

  Mel lifted up her shirt. Her nipples were already tender and aching, and the fabric scraped over the thin, silky layer of her bra. She caught her breath. She was wearing only her bra and her short skirt now, and somehow that felt even more erotic than being naked.

  Henrik clearly was thinking something similar. His heavy gaze traveled up her body; his lips parted in a silent appraisal. He let out a low groan and pulled her onto his lap so she straddled him, pushing her skirt higher on her thighs.

  “You are so beautiful,” he whispered.

  His erection pulsed hard against her. She drew in her breath, and her body instinctually rocked into him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth against his. His kiss was almost an assault, hungry and wild, and she responded.

  “Wait,” he hissed and grabbed her hips, stilling her. He rested his forehead against hers, and she listened to the luscious melody of their heavy breaths, intertwined.

  “I’m worried I’m going to…” He stopped and swallowed. He started again. “Please tell me if I’m… too rough with you.”

  His voice came out harsh and strained. Mel let her hands drift over his shoulders and down the tense muscles of his arms. He was warning her that his self-control was slipping away. And though she wasn’t sure what that meant for her, Mel realized that she wanted whatever it was that he was holding back.

  “I don’t mind rough, Henrik,” she whispered.

  She felt his erection throb against her, hard and unrelenting, and his breath hissed in her ear.

  “But you have to tell me,” he growled. “If you want me to stop, I will.”

  He seemed to be saying this as much for himself as he was for her. For a moment, she hesitated. Henrik had never thought to warn her before, and it gave her pause.

  Mel took one of his hands that was clamped tight on her hips and brought it up to her mouth. She gave his knuckles a soft kiss.

  “I’ll never know if it’s too much if we don’t try,” she said, trying not to let her voice waver.

  She pressed her lips against his hand again and ran her tongue along one of his fingers. Henrik’s breath was sharp and sudden. Before she had time to register what was happening, he had her on her back, angled on the row of cushions up against the bow of the boat, and his body was heavy on top of hers. Even if she had wanted to move, she couldn’t have. He rested on his forearms, his hands around her arms, pinning them above her head. His hot skin skimmed her nipples as his chest expanded and contracted with each breath, shooting waves of delicious pleasure through her. She tested his grip, but her arms went nowhere. Instead, she felt his erection surge against her, and she moaned.

  “Do you like this?” Henrik growled. “Do you like me holding you down like this?”

  Mel lowered her eyes. She wasn’t sure what was more disconcerting—that he clearly needed to dominate her like this right now or that she was incredibly turned on by it. But Henrik wasn’t moving. He was waiting for her answer. Then he brought his mouth to her earlobe and sucked.

  “Do you like it, Melanie?”

&n
bsp; His voice rasped low, barely there, and he let his tongue slide along the rim of her ear. She felt the jolt of his teeth.

  “Oh,” she moaned in a voice that didn’t sound like her own.

  “Tell me,” he demanded through clenched teeth.

  Mel closed her eyes.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I like that.”

  Henrik thrust hard against her, the roughness of his jeans scraping over the most sensitive area of her body. She cried out in dark pleasure, and he lifted his head to give her a wicked smile.

  “I see you do,” he groaned as his body surged against her again. “Don’t move.”

  Henrik climbed off, and her body ached at the loss of the hard pressure of him on top of her. She was exposed, her skirt up at her waist with nothing underneath and her nipples poking hard out of the thin, silky layer of her bra. The low ceiling kept him hovering over her, brushing up against her legs. Henrik’s gaze raked over her body, intense and hungry, and Mel wasn’t sure what she felt. The swirls of feeling inside were nothing that she recognized.

  He kept his eyes on her as he reached down and unbuttoned his jeans. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry. Her hands were still over her head in surrender, and she shifted to watch him.

  “Don’t move.”

  Mel’s heart thumped hard. The mix of apprehension and pleasure and other, more disturbing thoughts was too much for her to put together. Was she going to let him order her around like this? Somehow, the very thing she couldn’t stand in the rest of her life turned her on right now.

  She opened her mouth to try to make sense of these feelings, but Henrik effectively ended this line of thought by taking off his boxers. Mel drew in her breath as he stood up and showed his impressive length. He put his hand around himself and stroked a couple of times as he looked over her.

  He groaned and said, “I like this view.”

  Mel licked her lips. He was doing this as much for her as for him, she realized, making her ache for him. Her body rocked with anticipation as he slowly climbed back up on the cushions. He opened her legs wider and kneeled between them, letting his erection ride over her. She moaned and pushed up against him. He slid his length over her again and brought his body down on hers, hot and heavy. His hips pressed into hers, and his hands held her arms again. His mouth descended on hers, hard and wanting, and she answered him with her own need. The kiss left her gasping, pushing to close the space between their bodies.