by Sybil Bartel
I tried to retreat. “I have to check on Conner.”
His hold tightened. “Your cell phone has a broken screen. There is no TV but there is a TV stand. Half the apartment is unfurnished and there is no milk in the refrigerator for the child.”
Out of all of the reasons why I thought he would’ve grabbed my wrist, none of them were even close to the actual words that came out of his mouth. “Are you calling me a bad mother?”
One of his nostrils flared but his voice stayed even. “You had money for the dress.”
Unbelievable hurt crushed my chest and I lashed out. “You have no right to judge me.” I yanked my arm free and made it a whole step.
He caught my shoulder and in one swift move, he pulled. My back hit his chest, his fingers dug into my upper arms and his breath landed on my ear. “I neither presume nor judge. Fact is fact. Why have you not said something to Luna? He has company phones and apartments.”
I snorted because I was embarrassed. Yeah, my boss had a bunch of extra cell phones and yes, he owned the building the office was in and it had apartments on the upper floors. There was even a parking garage and a gym and a fancy elevator that actually worked. I knew that. I knew all of it, but just because I was a twenty-one-year-old single mother didn’t mean I was a fucking charity case. “I don’t need handouts.” I spit the words out with enough force to hopefully make them true.
“Then what do you need?”
The question took me off guard, not because he asked it or even the reason why he was asking, but because of his tone. Gentle, filtered, it was almost as if he cared. But I was smarter than the eighteen-year-old version of myself. Much smarter. And I knew men didn’t care. “I need you to take your hands off me.”
His thumbs drew slow, deliberate circles across my bare shoulders and he lowered his voice. “You do not like me touching you?”
The sweet lick of desire mixed with alarm and swept through my veins. Every inch of my body stilled as I tried to process his shift. “What?”
“You heard me.”
My heart raced. “Is this some kind of alpha hot-cold bullshit to throw women off their game?”
“I do not play games.”
I thought I’d wanted to be alone with this man. I’d dreamt about it. Strong, unyielding, I thought about what it would be like to have him protecting me, shielding me… making love to me. But now that he was here, I knew I’d been a fool. Viking didn’t make love and he wouldn’t shield me from shit. Stupid fucking fantasy. “Then what are you doing?”
His palms skimmed up my arms and over my shoulders. “What are you afraid of?”
Him. His touch. What happened to my heart every time he held Conner. But I didn’t say that. I stepped out of his grasp and carefully didn’t look at him because from the second I’d first laid eyes on him, I swore he could see into my soul. “Nothing.”
“Turn around, Ariella.” His quiet command took up my whole living room.
Ignoring him would only draw attention to the wounded heart I desperately hid. I was never again going to let a man take my trust and crush it. Being left with a newborn and bills was one thing, but falling for a warrior like Viking? That was emotional suicide. So I sucked in a breath, pasted on a bored expression and turned.
Viking’s gaze swept across my face like he could read my thoughts then he did something completely out of character for him. He shook his head.
My face burned. “What?”
He tipped his chin toward Conner’s room. “Go. Check on your son.”
Refusing to let him get to me, I strode to what used to be my mother’s bedroom and went to the crib pushed into a corner. Perfectly tucked in, his little security blanket folded next to him in case he woke up, my baby was sound asleep. Awareness crawled up my spine and I glanced over my shoulder.
Viking stood in the doorway.
I left a kiss on Conner’s forehead and tiptoed back out. Viking let me pass then pulled the door shut.
I’d never been more aware of another man—the reach of his arm, the crisp fabric of his shirt, the control in his movements. He took up my entire hallway and left me no room to breathe. “Thanks for putting him down,” I murmured, forcing the words past my lips.
In a stance that belied the sheer strength of him, Viking casually leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. For the first time, he let his eyes wander. Dropping his gaze to my lips, he did a slow sweep down my neck, across my breasts and over my hips. He took in the length of my bare legs and heat flushed across my skin as if he were touching every inch of me.
“Are you frightened of me?” His deep, quiet voice didn’t bend the silence, it owned it.
Hating how he made me feel both insignificant and like the only woman alive, I tried to swallow past the sudden dryness in my mouth. “No.”
His chest rose with a steady inhale then he pushed off the wall and took a step toward me. “When I ask a question, I want the truth.”
My heart raced and every fantasy I’d ever had of him flew through my mind unchecked. Except none of them left me as terrified and breathless as he was making me now. “Yes,” I whispered. “You scare me.”
“Turn around.”
This was bad. Really bad. I couldn’t handle a man like him. I didn’t want to handle a man like Viking. I was Conner’s mother. Nothing else. I needed to be nothing else. But every cell in my body was aching to do exactly as he commanded.
“Now.”
I spun on shaking legs.
Spicy musk filled my nostrils and his warm breath touched my cheek. “I will not hurt you.”
“I wouldn’t let you if you tried.” Any sort of bravado I might’ve had was completely wiped out by the ridiculously high pitch to my voice.
“Did you trust me with your child today?”
“Yes.” I wouldn’t lie about that.
“Then trust me now.” His finger traced a line from just below my ear to my collarbone. “Drop your head.”
I trembled but the command blanketed my racing heart and my chin fell to my chest.
Calloused fingers wrapped around my nape and my zipper slid down my back.
Cold air hit my spine with a shock of reality and I sucked in a panicked breath. “Neil, we need to talk about—”
“Do you want to be with your son’s father?” Firm, warm, electrifying, his hand brushed down the middle of my back.
Just like his voice, his touch was commanding and I answered his question without thinking. “He’s gone.” But he’d be back. The next time he needed money or a place to crash or something else he thought he could use me for.
Viking’s fingers pressed into the sore muscles of my lower back as if he knew holding Conner and wearing five-inch heels had taken a toll. I shuddered at the bite of pain followed by the release of tightness.
He slipped his hands further inside my dress and curled his fingers around my hips. “Are you with anyone?”
God, it felt good having him touch me. “I don’t do relationships.” Or one-night stands, I reminded myself.
“The boy’s father?”
Apparently eight hours with him had worn me down, because I didn’t even flinch at his abrupt manner of questioning anymore. “He was the last,” I admitted.
His thumbs rubbed hard, slow circles. “Why?”
An ache pooled between my legs and I didn’t even try to fight the moan. “Because… reasons.”
His hands went perfectly still. “Which are?”
I didn’t want to think about my promise to myself. Not now. “It doesn’t matter.”
His lips nearly ghosted across the back of my neck. “Tell me.”
His breath on my skin, the low timbre of his voice, it made my head swim and suddenly I needed to catch my breath. The spice of his cologne mingled with the musk that was all him and I wanted to breathe it in forever, but this was Viking. No question or action would make him anything different than cold and unattainable. “I don’t rehash the past.”
“Your
pulse is racing,” he accused.
What the hell did he think would happen when he decided to play massage therapist? “Your hands are on me.”
“What did he do to you?”
Besides give me a baby and a complex? Nothing. Shame set in and two years of celibacy crawled up my conscience and bit me in the ass. “Was this your plan? Get me half-undressed and interrogate me? Let go.” I tried to step away.
His grip tightened like shackles. “Tell me what happened and I will.”
After years of stripping and having to protect myself, it was instinctual—I brought my leg up, fully intending to slam my heel down anywhere I could connect.
Quicker than I could blink, I was spun around and on my tiptoes as his giant hand caught my jaw. Fierce gray eyes penetrated my rebellious stare and destroyed my defiance. “I said I would not hurt you but if you kick me, I make no promises.”
“Is that what gets you off?” My words were biting but my voice shook. “Inflicting pain on women?”
His grip loosened and my feet went flat on the worn carpet. “You are tired and you are defensive.” He reached around me and pushed my bedroom door wide open. “Go to bed.” He released me and stepped back.
My dress hanging open, my pride in the fucking toilet, I fought back stupid tears and lifted my chin in defiance. “You’re an asshole.”
His jaw ticked as his chest rose with an inhale. “Good night, Ariella.”
Viking turned and walked out.
FOR THE FIRST TIME IN as long as I could remember, I wasn’t woken by Conner. My cell quietly chirped and I pried my eyes open. Pitch dark, I glanced at the alarm clock. It wasn’t even six a.m. yet. The phone buzzed again and I reached for it.
Unable to see who it was because of the shattered screen, I grabbed it off the nightstand and answered anyway. “Whoever this is, it’s too early.”
“Come to the front door.” Viking’s deep voice sank to my stomach in a flurry of unwanted anticipation.
In thong underwear and nothing else, I sat up. “I’m not dressed.” Taken off guard by not only his early morning call but his request after not hearing a single word from him in over a week, it was the best response I could come up with.
“Now,” he ordered.
“No.” Asshole. I hung up and lay back down, pulling the covers over my head. I was turning on my side and telling myself I wasn’t curious as shit when his quiet voice filled the room a second before my bed dipped.
“Where is your phone?” Viking turned my lamp on low.
I pulled the covers off my head and blinked against the light, acutely aware of the fact that I was almost naked. “What the fuck?” I whisper-hissed. “You broke in?” In a T-shirt and jeans, smelling like he’d just showered, not only did he look a thousand times hotter than I remembered, but he looked too damn awake for this hour of the morning.
“Give me your phone,” he demanded.
“Nah-uh.” I scooted back until I hit the headboard and wished like hell I’d taken his call more seriously. I could’ve at least run my fingers through my hair or brushed my teeth before answering the door. “You don’t get to break in to my apartment and get away with it.” His T-shirt stretched across his shoulders then went loose at his waist. His jeans strained around his huge thigh muscles and I swore he was even more ripped than last week.
“I did not come here intent on getting away with anything.”
Right. “The way you look, I bet you get away with a whole lot.”
Expression like stone, he held his hand out. “Phone.”
In a remarkable show of restraint, I didn’t roll my eyes. I didn’t even blink. I gave him his blank stare right back.
“I am not here so you can waste my time.”
Not that I was counting, but that was twice he’d accused me of wasting his precious time. “Pretty sure I didn’t invite you, so we’re even.”
“Test me,” he warned. “I will find the phone.” His gaze strayed to my covers.
I sighed and my hand rooted around under the comforter until it closed over my broken phone. I tossed it at him then pulled the covers back up to my chin. “How did you know my number?” And why the hell was he showing up now?
“Luna,” he admitted, catching the phone one-handed and turning it over. Quick and precise, he popped the back off, took out the SIM card and put it in a new phone he already had on his lap. Then he swiped his thumbs over the display and messed with it for a few seconds before holding it out to me.
Careful not give him a free boob shot, I took the brand-spanking-new phone that was the same kind as the one I’d had but about a thousand versions newer. “So it took you a week to decide to get me a phone?”
“I was out of town. My number is programmed. Text me later today with what size television you want.” He stood. “Groceries are on the counter.”
Shame washed over me and period cramps decided to take that exact second to unleash on me. I bit back a groan and clutched my stomach. “I can’t afford this.”
“I am not asking you to pay for it. What is wrong with your stomach?”
Fucking hell. “Nothing, cramps.” I looked up at unyielding gray eyes. “I’m not your charity case.”
“I am not letting the child go hungry,” he countered.
It should’ve made me angry. I should’ve given him an earful or defended myself. I could’ve told him I’d bought groceries, or better yet, told him where to shove it. I wasn’t a bad mother and my son had never gone hungry. Conner didn’t have what other kids had, but he’d never, ever missed a meal. But instead of being pissed or even embarrassed, stupid fucking tears welled in my eyes because just like last week, I didn’t have any goddamn milk in my fridge.
I turned away from Viking. “He isn’t going hungry.”
“I will let myself out.”
“You do that,” I managed.
Right then, Conner woke up. His soft, raspy cry filtered into my room and I swung my legs out of bed, pulling the comforter with me as I stood.
“I will get him. Get dressed.”
I looked over my shoulder but Viking was already walking out. A second later, Conner’s cry stopped and I heard the low rumble of Viking’s voice.
I grabbed some clothes, made it to the bathroom, and shut the door. Before I could set the new phone on the counter, the date on the display mocked me. Fourteen days. Fourteen days until I needed to come up with an extra seven hundred dollars in rent. I sank to the floor and Conner’s giggle sounded through the closed door.
Pushing to my feet, I hastily showered and rushed through a quick blow dry of my hair. Fifteen minutes later, I walked into the living room to the smell of coffee and cooking meat.
“Mama!” Conner’s wide smile greeted me from his booster seat at my scarred kitchen table. Bacon on his tray and some leftover bits of scrambled egg on his face, his toothy grin made my heart melt. “Bacon, Mama!”
“Hey, baby.” I kissed the top of his head and hated the fact that I hadn’t been able to afford to buy my son breakfast meat in two months. “Let me get you a napkin.” I turned to grab a paper towel and froze. There were bags of groceries on my counter. Like, bags. “You bought all this?” I scanned what must have been hundreds of dollars of food in shock.
Viking handed me two Advil and a cup of coffee, then silently went back to flipping the bacon he had cooking.
I stared at the two pills and the mug. No one had gotten me Advil since I was a kid. “Cream,” I stupidly stated.
He nodded in confirmation. “You put cream in it at work.”
He was right. I did. A lot of cream. Because it was free. But I didn’t think Viking had noticed that. I usually had a cup of coffee on my desk at Luna and Associates because it was another thing I’d stopped buying. You never truly appreciate something as simple as coffee until you can no longer afford to buy it. But the fact that he’d noticed how I took my coffee the few times he was at André’s office? I didn’t know what to do with that. I was suddenly more
uncomfortable than when he’d quoted Shakespeare.
I set the mug down and swallowed the pills dry. “What are you doing?” He shouldn’t be here. He should be in his fancy truck with a fancy girl who didn’t get cramps, going to a fancy breakfast, or the gym, or whatever it is rich people did with their time and money in the mornings.
Viking didn’t answer me.
He forked bacon onto a paper towel and pushed eggs around in another pan. His muscles flexing, he reached for a plate in the cupboard and heaped food onto it. He took a fork out of a drawer like he knew my kitchen and cooked in it all the time, then he held the plate out to me, complete with a utensil. “Eat.”
My hands went to my hips. “I asked you a question.”
He inclined his head at the table. “Sit.”
“I’m not a dog.”
Conner’s head bounced between us as he chewed his bacon.
“Another mention of a comparison to a canine.” He moved around me and his body heat snaked up my back and sent a chill of awareness across my flesh. “Sit and eat.” He set the food down and pulled a chair out.
I didn’t move.
He glanced down at Conner and switched to Danish. The rapid words, almost harsh sounding, were accompanied by a slight upturn of his lips and Conner burst into giggles.
“What did you say?”
Viking winked at Conner then spared me glance. “That you look foolish standing when a plate of food is on the table in front of you.”
My nostrils flared and heat hit my cheeks. “He doesn’t know what you’re saying.”
Viking spoke to Conner again in Danish and Conner nodded. Viking turned back to me. “He understands.”
“Bullshit,” I snapped.
“Language,” Viking clipped.
What a jerk. A jerk who’d bought me a new phone and groceries. And made me and my son breakfast. Jesus, it was hard to be pissed when the smell of bacon and eggs was making my mouth water. “So it’d be okay if I swore in Danish?”
“No.”
“Great, then why don’t you teach me to swear in Siberian.”
He moved back to the stove with more grace than I’d ever have. “They speak Russian in Siberia.” Taking the pans to the sink, he made quick work of scrubbing them.