One Night in Stockholm: Short, Steamy Romance - Episode #1 of 4 (Stockholm Diaries, Alice)

by Rebecca Hunter

  Alice leafed through the first pages of his manuscript, stalling.

  She stopped, her eyes fixed on three words in the middle of the page: curly red hair. The American woman in his dark story with lots of sex had curly red hair. He didn’t make that up.

  “So now you see why I wanted to talk to you this morning,” he said softly. “But this part I didn’t count on.” He gestured around at the pub, and the corners of his mouth turned up. “Your straight hair from this morning is even curly now.”

  Alice closed her eyes. At that moment, she was her old self back in Brooklyn, not the woman she had worked so hard to become. That other version of herself. She wanted just a little more taste of it.

  She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. Jonas was still watching her, his eyes dark and suggestive. Who did he see when he looked at her?

  Her own question from earlier came back: What was she interested in? She still didn’t have an answer.

  Alice looked down at the manuscript, skimming through the pages. More phrases jumped out at her: … she hitched up her skirt and straddled him…she knelt down in front of him and licked her lips…

  Shit. She had never once straddled her ex-boyfriend or knelt down in front him and licked her lips, not even in the beginning. Jonas, on the other hand, looked like the kind of guy who had been straddled more than his fair share of times.

  “You know, I’m not the woman in your book,” she said.

  Jonas nodded slowly. “I know. And I’m not the man in it, either. Not anymore.”

  He fingered a few of her loose curls, letting his hand brush over her shoulder. A trail of goose bumps ran down her arm. What would his large, warm hands feel like on her bare skin? She wanted to know the answer.

  He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “But we all have many sides, sides that we don’t always let show, don’t we?”

  Alice closed her eyes and swallowed hard. Oh, God. Just once she could be the kind of woman who would straddle this man. Who would kneel down in front of him. Who would make a man with a don’t fuck with me body want something badly.

  And Stockholm was probably the best place to do it. Because she knew no one. Because with a bank account like hers, she was probably never coming back.

  She opened her eyes. Jonas had turned to look into the crowd that now filled the bar, two-people deep. The room was filled with the din of men’s voices, cheering for the soccer game on the TV screen and calling out to each other. One guy shoved another, but it ended in laughter.

  He rested his arms against the table and took a sip of his beer.

  “Does it get rowdy in here?” she asked.

  Jonas frowned. “Mostly just on the weekends.” He gestured to the TV screen. “But tonight’s a big game. You’ll be fine.”

  Because she was with him. He didn’t have to say the words. He slid closer to her, his big, muscular thigh pressed against hers, his body between her and the crowd.

  What was it like to be Jonas, to move through the world knowing he could take on anyone? Alice looked down at the scarred knuckles as he lifted his glass. Not an easy life. He’d done more than just intimidate.

  Guys who had knuckles like that huddled in groups on her old Brooklyn street, blocking the way to school. Their arms were decorated with tattoos, too, usually with some mixture of religion and soft porn. They could show a girl a good time for a night. That was never a question.

  But they never, ever became writers. So who was Jonas Hällström, with his scarred knuckles and his hard muscles and a couple dozen books under his belt?

  He set his glass down. She would have expected a guy like him to have finished about three beers by now. Alice drifted her fingers over his hand before she realized what she was doing. She quickly pulled her hand back.

  “Sorry.”

  Jonas smiled. “Don’t stop on my account.”

  His deep blue eyes were open and welcoming, and he seemed to be waiting for her next move. She buried her hand under the table. Probably better just to ask her questions rather than make more stupid moves while she thought about them.

  “How did you become a writer?” she asked.

  It was the most basic question, but his expression hardened. He turned away.

  “Never mind,” she said, looking down into her glass.

  He shook his head, and when he turned back to her, she saw a glimpse of something. Regret?

  He ran the back of his hand over the bare skin of her arm, sending a delicious shiver through her. She turned to him, and he brought his hand up to her face. He caressed her cheek with the kind of gentleness she never would have expected from a man like him. Or maybe she didn’t know what kind of man he was after all.

  “If you really want to know the answer, I’ll tell you,” he said softly. “You can look it up anytime. But I’d rather not talk about it. Not tonight.”

  She leaned into his touch. “There isn’t anything more than tonight.”

  “Perhaps.”

  She waited, but he was silent again. His thumb stroked her jaw, and his expression softened.

  “What can I ask?”

  Jonas shrugged. “What else do you want to know?”

  Where did she start? She had a hundred questions about his past. All of them would probably bring back the same wariness in his eyes. Or maybe even the stony gaze he gave the other men in the pub.

  His warm hand moved to her shoulder, and he rested it there. Her body hummed with the slow caress of his fingers. He was still watching her, waiting.

  Alice met his gaze, straight on. “If you could go anywhere, where would it be?”

  “To live or to visit?”

  “Either.”

  “There are a lot of reasons I wouldn’t move from Stockholm, but to visit?” He closed his eyes, and the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile. “If I had my way, we’d be in Paris right now.”

  We. Not just him. What else did he imagine them doing together?

  “What about you?” he asked. “Where do you want to go?”

  Alice shrugged. “Paris sounds good to me. I’d go anywhere outside the US.” She paused. “You know, this is my first trip out of the country. I never even owned a passport before a couple weeks ago.”

  “All the more reason to go,” he said quietly.

  Had the discussion shifted past just imagining? She and her ex-boyfriend had never traveled further than New Jersey together, but Jonas looked serious. Alice frowned. There was no reason to get excited about something that would never happen.

  A deep crease formed between his brow, and he pulled his warm hand away.

  “I don’t want to scare you,” he said, backing up. “I just came over here to sit with you for a while. Talk.”

  Her frown grew deeper. He was backing down now? He had broken off the intimacy of the moment, and he looked like he was ready to walk away.

  It was now or never. If she ever wanted a taste of the kind of guy she had sworn off, this was her chance. The danger in a guy like this didn’t come the first night. With a guy like this, the really good parts came first. Until a girl was hooked. Then the destructive parts came out.

  Before better judgment could intervene, she said blurted out, “What if I want more?”

  He stilled, and his eyes grew darker. “Do you?”

  Alice swallowed and nodded. She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his. He let out a soft groan, so she did it again. She caught his lip and the new stubble of his beard, a mix of soft and rough. He rested his warm hand on her cheek and pulled back. His eyes bore into hers. It was now or never.

  “Do you want more?” she asked.

  His mouth curved into a dark smile. “Hell, yes.”

  “Good. But I need to talk to the bartender first.”

  THEY STEPPED OUT of the pub, and Alice shivered in the cool evening air.

  “Can we take the long way back to my hotel?” asked Alice. “I’ve never been to S
tockholm before.”

  “Sure,” he said. “Let’s head up the hill.”

  They turned up a narrow cobblestone street. Jonas shoved his hands in his pockets and walked close by her side. She couldn’t get over how big he was. It was impossible not to notice him. The guys they passed on the street stepped out of his way, and women sized him up. Jonas kept his head down, as if he didn’t notice the attention. Or didn’t care.

  There were so many reasons why Jonas would make a terrible boyfriend. Starting with the way women looked at him. She’d spend too much time wondering if he’d look up one day and notice all the cute young things staring just a little too long. When the fun was over, he’d probably end up leaving her for someone softer. Younger.

  But he wasn’t her boyfriend. He was hers for now, for tonight. Anything after that didn’t have to matter.

  “I can’t believe you asked the bartender for personal details about me,” Jonas chuckled, his chest brushing against her shoulder as they passed a couple on the street.

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “At least he understood me this time,” she said. “A woman can’t be too careful these days. Besides, it’s rather sweet to find out that you meet your mother there for dinner every Sunday.”

  Jonas barked out a laugh. “Sweet? That’s a first.”

  “Not sweet?” She raised an eyebrow. “You’re the writer. What word would you choose?”

  He smiled a little, but he didn’t answer. They headed down another side street that ended at a busy intersection. He stopped next to an old wooden doorway, and she turned back to look at him. His eyes were fiery and dark.

  “You want to know what I’m like?” he asked.

  She nodded and leaned against the building, waiting for whatever he was going to say. But he didn’t say anything.

  Jonas took a few steps closer, his eyes fixed on her. He moved slowly, giving her all the time in the world to back down. She didn’t. He rested his hands against the wall on either side of her. His eyes grew heavy as he watched her. She drew in a shaky breath.

  Damn, this was hot.

  He moved closer and brought a hand to her face, the way he had in the pub. But this time he didn’t stop. Slowly, gently, he caressed her cheek and traced the line of her lips with his thumb until she parted them. He tilted her chin up towards his. Her gaze drifted up, over his long, thin scar, barely visible beneath a brush of stubble, up to his glittering blue eyes. They were fixed on hers again, hopeful but a little darker, as he lowered his wide, sensual mouth to hers. Warm. Inviting. She was dizzy with relief. Finally.

  Alice opened her mouth and slid her tongue over his bottom lip. She slipped her fingers into his hair, and he groaned softly. His big hands moved over her hips, and she pressed herself flush to his long, hard body. His fingers tightened, and his kiss turned hungry. His tongue tasted hers, licking, promising more. The kiss in the pub didn’t even come close to where they were going now. She tugged on his hair, holding on, as she took the kiss deeper.

  A deep groan rumbled inside his chest. He pulled back and raked his teeth over her bottom lip.

  “That’s what I’m like,” he whispered. “You want that?”

  Alice nodded slowly, still dizzy from the kiss. “I think I’m done wandering through Stockholm. Let’s go back to my hotel.”

  He smiled. “I’d better stop at the corner store first.”

  ALICE WALKED SILENTLY down the fifth floor hall. Jonas said nothing. His large hand rested on her lower back, a physical reminder of what was coming.

  She stopped in front of her room, and her fingers trembled as she searched her purse for her room key. Could she really go through with this? God, she wanted to. Just for tonight, she was back in high school, before her father had returned for the very last time. Before she had sworn off guys like Jonas. And it felt good.

  Just one night. No danger of getting in too deep.

  Besides, all of Jonas’s charm could still be for his book, nothing more. The more they talked, the less likely this seemed. But even if this were true, Jonas’s motives didn’t matter. Tonight was her one chance to taste the other life she had turned away from.

  When the lock finally clicked open, she looked up. Jonas’s gaze was soft and steady.

  “Are you ok?” he asked. “You can still call this off.”

  “I don’t do things like this. Not even close,” she said. “But I want to. I’m more nervous about what I want, not where I want to stop.”

  Jonas chuckled and traced the curve of her waist with his hand. “Sounds good to me.”

  They walked into the dark room, lit only by the lights from the city through the sheer curtains. Alice took a deep breath and turned to him, steadying her hands on his solid, broad chest. His heart pulsed beneath his shirt.

  She smiled a little. “Maybe I should offer you the same. You can call this off, too.”

  Jonas shook his head slowly, and his eyes were heavy with lust.

  “I’ll do everything you can think of,” he said his voice low. He brought his mouth down to brush the rim of her ear. “Everything.”

  Then he did it again—that kiss. The kiss from the street, with long, slow strokes of his tongue, each one erasing everything else except his body against hers.

  She found his biceps and ran her thumbs up the hard bulges. Wow. It had been so long since she had touched someone like this, someone with such raw sex appeal. She was supposed to be long past this phase. And she was. But here in Stockholm, so far away from home, there was nothing wrong with a little indulgence. She wasn’t a teenager anymore. She could handle it.

  “You’re so big,” she whispered, stretching her hand over the planes of his muscles.

  “You like that?” His breath teased her neck.

  “Yeah.”

  His hands moved lower down her back. “Good.”

  He slid his hands under her rear and lifted her, his thick, muscular arms flexing hard under her fingers. Whoa. He was big everywhere. His erection, long and heavy, pressed against her, and she let out a little sigh of pleasure. His grip tightened, and she squirmed closer. He let out a deeper groan.

  She closed her eyes and took one more breath of his scent. He released her, and she leaned against the wall, creating a little space between them. He reached out to brush a curl from her forehead and caressed her face.

  “What do you like, Alice?”

  What did she like? She had never really given the question any thought.

  “What are my options?” she asked.

  Jonas smiled darkly. “I just wanted to know if there was anything that really turns you on.”

  Alice shrugged. “The kind of things we’re already doing, I guess.”

  Jonas nodded.

  “What about you?” she asked. “What do you like?”

  Jonas’s eyes widened. “You know, I always ask women this question, and no one ever asks it back.”

  His gaze drifted lower as he shamelessly checked out her breasts. Was that his answer? He slipped his hand under the hem of her t-shirt and let his finger glide over her bare skin. She bit her lip.

  “I like a lot of different things,” he finally said. “I guess it depends on the person. How we are together. But I have this feeling that I’m really going to like you.”

  Alice stared up at him, searching for something to say. He was so direct. She had never once been with a guy who had come out and said he was into her. Guys like this didn’t exist in New York, not in her old life and not in her new one.

  He brushed his lips over hers. “Let’s just see where this goes. But tell me if there’s anything you don’t like.”

  She nodded. He kissed her again and let his hand drop from her waist.

  Jonas picked up the little bag he had dropped on the floor and carried it over to the nightstand. He sat down on the edge, not bothering to hide the erection throbbing between his thick, muscular thighs. If Jonas had looked out of place at the
Stockholm Book Expo, he stood out just as much in this sleek, modern hotel room. But he didn’t seem to care. He lifted his gaze and stared at her with unabashed interest. He tugged his t-shirt over his head, revealing muscles and tattoos and scars and a dark trail of hair that disappeared into his jeans.

  Alice opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Jonas wore the traces of his past on his body, some chosen, others not. Her heart pounded as she took a step forward. Where did he get his scars? In the pub, he had turned away another question about his past. He’d do the same if she came out and asked directly.

  She took another step. “You’re in really good shape. Especially for a writer.”

  He smiled a little. “Habit, I guess.”

  “Did you used to play sports?”

  Jonas shook his head, and his smile faded. “Nothing like that. In the past, being big had a lot of advantages.”

  Alice swallowed and came closer. “In the past, but not now?”

  “No, not now.” He kept his gaze steady on her, intense and serious.

  “Never again?” she whispered.

  “Never again.”

  She nodded. What had he left behind? She had heard a lot of never again in her life, and it usually only lasted until the temptation was in sight again. But when Jonas said those words, she heard sadness, not temptation. The same never again that she had whispered to herself as she walked out of her mother’s apartment for the last time. The loneliest kind of never again.

  And Jonas knew this feeling, too. Something flickered in his eyes, something she recognized.

  Alice froze, mid-step. What was she getting herself into?

  But no matter what happened tonight, she was leaving the country tomorrow. Just one night wasn’t enough to ruin everything she had turned away from, was it? Alice closed her eyes and steadied her breath.

  She didn’t know his story, and he didn’t know hers. They were just two people, coming together for one night. One really good night, if she had any say in it.

  She took a last step so she stood between his open legs. He was tall enough so that his face was level with her chest, even sitting down. She pulled off her own shirt, revealing a thin, lacy bra. Her nipples poked through the fabric. Jonas parted his lips, and the heat of his breath traveled over her skin. But he didn’t move. He waited. Despite the huge bulge in his pants, he didn’t seem to be in any hurry.