“I’ll call when I get home.” He swallowed back his own emotions and ended the call.
Henning set his phone on his desk and ran his hand through his hair, shaking his head. It had taken his sister only one short phone call to uncover all the conflicted feelings for Alya that he was trying to tamp down. Which meant he was going to have a hell of a time putting aside every reaction he had to her the moment he showed up at her door tomorrow morning.
But he’d do it. His job was to watch her every moment of the day. And every long hour of the night. Just the two of them, alone in the darkness, in a remote resort in northern Sweden.
Holy hell.
CHAPTER THREE
HENNING STEERED THE big black SUV over the packed snow that made up the desolate road to the Icehotel, keeping his gaze fixed straight in front of him. The pine forests, covered in white, stretched out along the road on both sides. Alya was looking out the window at the passing landscape, dotted with occasional houses painted bright red and topped with snow. He didn’t need to look in her direction to know what she was doing.
He’d been tuned in to her every movement since he’d picked her up at her Sydney apartment. That was expected. What was unexpected was the sense that she was just as tuned in to him. He had kept himself awake half the night going over her response to him yesterday in the Blackmore Inc. conference room. Imagining all the other ways he wanted to end that meeting.
“It’s cold here,” said Alya, clutching her down jacket tighter around her. “I mean, of course it’s cold, but I didn’t know it would feel like this.”
Henning knew exactly what she meant. When they’d stepped out of the airport, the wind found its way through his jacket immediately. He had seen snow in person, but nothing like this endless blanket of white. It was fascinating to look at, or at least it should have been. Now, the fascination was tainted by the memory of the ice-cold concrete floor of the warehouse where he had lain, watching his team member die from the shards of glass that had hit them both in the explosion. But he could put that reaction aside for the next few days. Besides, he was Australian for fuck’s sake—of course he reacted to the cold.
Henning checked to make sure the seat heater was on max and hiked up the temperature a couple notches. “I thought you were from Russia.”
“We left when I was six,” she said with a snort of laughter. “And I think my parents did a better job of dressing me for the weather.”
Henning smiled. “I should probably call them for some tips.”
He glanced over at her. Other than the parka and boots, Alya was dressed for late summer in Australia. She’d walked onto the airplane in tight jeans, a silky top that showed skin, and sunglasses. The look-don’t-touch vibe rolled off her. A good thing, as far as Henning was concerned, since the travel portions of the assignment were the most unpredictable—and the most critical for her to feel safe. While he accepted that he could never completely shut down his reaction to her, this cool, polished Alya was easier to separate himself from. But right now, after a day of traveling halfway across the world—hair mussed from fits of sleep, curled up in her puffy down coat with her feet tucked under her—keeping a professional distance was close to impossible. Had he caught her staring at his ass when they were getting off the plane? That didn’t help. It triggered a vivid image of her that he’d conjured up in the shower the night before as he came: Alya up against the door, his cock deep inside her as he put his mouth on her soft, slim throat.
Heat flooded to his groin. Fuck. Enough of that.
No encounters with Nick. No scenes that called attention to her personal life. That was his job. Nothing else. Unless she said explicitly that she wanted more. It was this last thought that had kept him up way too late.
Alya yawned and reached into her bag, pulling out the master schedule, scanning the pages.
“Today you have a meeting when you arrive, and then there’s drinks in the Icehotel, right?” he asked.
She nodded. “I was just checking to make sure we have time for a nap between those two.”
“Can you nap in that igloo?” He had seen photos of the Icehotel rooms, glowing with the tint of ocean blue. They were works of art, really, elaborate beds, chairs and sculptures carved from enormous blocks of ice. Strikingly beautiful but not made for casual napping.
“I could probably nap anywhere at this point, though I think the frozen portion of the hotel is more like a museum during the day,” said Alya, stifling another yawn. “But we’re not staying in the part of the hotel with ice rooms tonight. We’re scheduled in the regular heated building, right next door, for the first night, so we can use the beds in our room anytime today.”
Use the beds. Unfortunate phrasing. As the words left her lips, an image came of using a bed, naked, with Alya riding on top as he fucked her. Henning swallowed back a groan. How long had it been since he’d gotten laid? Too long, clearly.
There were places he could go to fuck, clubs where women got off on having a big, scarred man over them, holding them down, just the way they asked for it. And the women had no problem with his limits either—they had no interest in touching or kissing him anyway. Maybe he should have gone there last night, just to burn off some of this intense want.
But Henning had quit, cold turkey, when he found himself searching for tall, blonde women with endless legs. He had never had a preference before, and he knew exactly why this one was forming. Which was more than enough reason to cut that habit off immediately. What he felt for Alya was so many worlds away from what he wanted from those women. Henning couldn’t bear to mix the two worlds.
So it had been a while. Maybe that was why he had thrown caution to the wind and offered Alya anything she needed. Or maybe, after watching those blue eyes come alive under his gaze, he couldn’t resist.
During his undercover work with the AFP, he had built a career in part on reading people, looking past what they said and concentrating on what they did. Yesterday, he hadn’t missed the way Alya had stepped closer instead of backing away from him, the way she’d licked her lips, the way her breath came faster when she’d touched him. In the days before the disastrous bust that marked the end of his AFP career, he had gotten more than his fair share of attention from women. And he understood his responsibility as a man bigger than most other people, the responsibility of making sure he understood exactly what a woman wanted from him before he touched her. His days of propositions in bars were long over, but he hadn’t forgotten how it all worked. He had to be really fucking careful.
The GPS on the car told him they were nearing the place. He pulled off into a little parking lot in front of the unassuming wooden buildings. Tall pine trees rose up on both sides, and Henning assumed the actual Icehotel lay somewhere behind them. He found a parking spot at the far end of the lot, and turned off the car. Then he rested his hands on his legs, ready for whatever came next, but Alya made no move to gather her belongings and climb out. Instead, she turned to face him. He had the feeling she wanted to speak, so he watched her, waiting her out. After her chest rose and fell a few more times, she met his gaze.
“Yesterday, you said you had no other in-person clients,” she said. “Why did you take this job?”
Henning swallowed, taking his time to consider his answer.
Because I couldn’t say no to you. Because the chance to be next to you for five days was too much to resist.
No, he definitely couldn’t go there. Instead, he went for an easier truth. “Because you deserve to feel safe.”
She tilted her head to the side. “So does everyone.”
“Of course,” he said. “But after what happened in the AFP, I won’t take an assignment unless I’m sure I understand all the threats and would do whatever it takes to keep that person safe. Anything.”
As the words left his mouth, he knew he shouldn’t have said them. They hinted at both the past that haunted him
and the intensity of his feelings for her, neither of which had any place on this trip. Henning scrubbed his hands over his face. The bristles from his unshaven jaw pricked at his right hand, but under his left hand the scar that pulled at the side of his mouth was unnaturally smooth. A reminder of how wrong things could go.
Alya’s expression was completely unreadable. “Henning, I’m going to ask you something I’ll probably regret, but here it goes.” She took a deep breath. “If I kissed you right now, would that interfere with our bodyguard-client relationship?”
He stilled. He didn’t even breathe, but his cock jolted to life. Did he hear her right? Fuck, he had thought about kissing her so many times it was hard to register this was really happening. In his head, he could imagine the kiss as his old self, before the attack, before the scars. Soft, beautiful before it turned hungry. Perfect.
But deep inside, his past was still an open wound. Lying on that cold warehouse floor, fighting his own pain while trying to save Sanjay, watching the bastard who caused the explosion get away, he had seen his actions for what they were. Selfish. He had been blinded by his own goal, taking a risk to grab the leader, a risk that ended Sanjay’s life. That was reality, a cold, hard reality he would live with for the rest of his life. Never again would he let his own wants drive his actions. So how could he consider kissing Alya, knowing all this?
Henning blew out a breath. Shit. Why the hell was he thinking about all this right now?
His expression had no doubt grown darker because her smile had faded.
“Sorry,” she said, her voice filled with false cheer. “Should have gone with my first instinct to keep my mouth shut. Let’s just pretend I didn’t say that. I’ll find someone else to proposition.”
Henning flinched. A storm hit him, a storm of protectiveness and something else he didn’t want to acknowledge, despite the ache of his cock.
“No.” The word came out sharp and urgent before he could stop himself. Alya drew in a quick, startled breath, and he winced. But fuck, no. The idea of watching her flirt with another man was doing crazy things to his insides. It sent a surge through him, twisting into every long-dormant competitive urge to show her all the ways he could satisfy her better. It was the kind of drive he used to thrive on.
No. Just no. He had sworn to himself when he took this job that it had to be all about her. So what the hell was he supposed to do with this situation? Let her go off and find another man, someone who probably wouldn’t give a shit about what she needed? If he said yes to this, gave her what she wanted, it would have to be with his sole focus on her, not selfishly chasing his own needs.
He reached for Alya, touching her cheek, coaxing her to look at him. She did, meeting his eyes, and he found traces of embarrassment. Did she think he was rejecting her? Hell, no. Take it easy. He swallowed.
“There’s nothing in the world I want more than to kiss you right now,” he whispered. “I don’t want you to ever think otherwise, no matter what happens.”
Her eyes widened, and they came alive with unguarded interest. So much better. He pushed on.
“And, to answer your question, no, it wouldn’t interfere. Especially not if the doors are locked.”
A slow smile spread over her face, a glow of happiness returning. Damn, it was breathtaking. Then she reached for the dashboard and pressed the lock button.
Henning’s body jumped to attention, his cock all in, the eager fucker. Slow the hell down. He took a deep breath. This was for her. He had to get it right.
“But before we continue, I need to tell you something,” he said, keeping his voice quiet. “I haven’t kissed anyone since before the attack where I got these scars. It was five years ago.”
Her eyes widened. “You’ve been celibate for five years?”
The uninjured corner of his mouth tugged up. “That’s not quite what I said.”
Understanding registered in her eyes. “Got it,” said Alya, and a hint of amusement twinkled in her eyes. Thank fuck for that.
Henning pressed on. “I’m telling you because I don’t even know if I can kiss you the way I want to right now. The way you deserve.”
She quirked her eyebrow at him. “And what do I deserve?”
“A kiss promising you that you’re the only thing in the world that matters.”
She blinked, swallowed, as if his words were sinking in. Good. Because he wasn’t fooling around here. Anything that happened with her would get his full attention. She was quiet for a while, and then she straightened up in her seat.
“You know what I think I need?” she said with a little smile. “Something that’s hot and fun with someone I can trust. And I’m pretty sure that’s what I’ll get.”
Henning blew out a breath. He could do this as long as he kept his focus on her.
So he looked straight into the endless oceans of her eyes and shut everything else out. “Okay. We can try for that.”
* * *
Holy shit. Alya took a couple steadying breaths, trying to slow down her runaway heartbeat and jump-start her brain. Last night, alone in her apartment, this had all sounded way more reasonable. Somewhere around midnight, Alya had decided to simply ask for what she wanted: a few days of sexy fun. Except, the morning after, when Henning showed up at her doorstep, she still hadn’t quite figured out what to say.
Are you interested in spending a few of your off-duty hours naked with me?
Maybe a little too direct. Alya had spent a good portion of the seemingly endless procession of flights to Sweden contemplating how to test Henning’s interest. His aloofness during the travel had her second-guessing the idea, but once they got into the car, the intense attraction she had felt after yesterday’s meeting was back. So, she went with it.
Then came the words she was sure she’d never forget: A kiss promising you that you’re the only thing in the world that matters. She couldn’t resist the intensity in his voice. How did he know this was her personal kryptonite, the thing he could say to send her body into flames? But these were dangerous words, too much like the lies that kept her going back to Nick Bancroft, long after she should have fled for good.
Except Nick was the past, and she wasn’t that woman anymore. Just a few days of fun.
Still, the questions kept rolling through her mind. Did the scars around his mouth hurt him? Who had he had sex with for the past five years without kissing? And, most of all, how did she make sure not to get sucked in too deep?
Alya filed her questions away and took off her seat belt. She reached over and unlocked Henning’s. He slipped it off his shoulder but made no move to touch her. His eyes were hot but guarded, burning into her. He seemed to be waiting for her, so she unzipped her down parka and shrugged it off.
He smiled a little. “Getting hot already? We haven’t even started.”
“I was up late thinking about this last night.” She winked at him playfully. “Move your chair back a little.”
“Anything you want,” he said softly, amusement dancing in his eyes. The more they talked this way, close, intimate, the more she could read him. He unzipped his own coat and eased the seat back, tipping it at an angle, making enough room for her to climb on. So she did. The car was big, but so was Henning, so they shuffled and laughed and adjusted until she was facing him, knees tucked on both sides of his thick thighs. His body radiated heat, and God, it felt so good. He felt so good.
“Your hands are big,” she said, fitting them against her own. His were so much thicker and longer.
“Does that turn you on?”
She laughed. “Maybe?”
Some of the lightness in his eyes faded. “Meaning you wish it didn’t?”
She paused. “It’s just complicated.”
“We can stop anytime.”
“I know.” She could see he needed that reassurance that she would speak up if she wanted to stop, and he re
laxed a little under her touch, his smile slowly returning. But stopping wasn’t her worry at all. It was that she really, really liked this—his size, the way he was with her, everything—and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know why. But that didn’t have to figure into kissing him.
Henning slipped his hands around her waist and cupped her ass, bringing her up against him, closer, until she brushed against the enormous bulge in his pants. His eyes were heavy with humor and lust. Right now, Henning was worlds away from the hard, impassive bodyguard who had traveled next to her all day. For all his big body and muscles, he was...gentle with her. There was no other word for it.
...you’re the only thing in the world that matters.
Alya swallowed. He was talking about the kiss, not making some larger declaration. This was sexy fun, just what she had wanted. And she wasn’t going to taint it with her past hang-ups. So she pushed all of those ideas out of her mind, and focused on the stunning man in front of her. The man whose heavy cock was currently pressing against her.
“So you want this kind of kiss?” he asked, smiling.
She nodded and moved up and down against his erection, using it to stroke her clit. He flexed his hips and ground against her, sending more sparks of pleasure through her. He did it again, rubbing his cock in every sensitive place, making her moan and shudder.
“Yes,” she said, a little breathless. “This is definitely the kind of kiss I want.”
He flexed his hips again, and her eyes rolled back as another wave of pleasure coursed through her. Oh, yes.
Henning looked like he was enjoying this slow, hot grind just as much as she was, but after hearing about his five-year kissing dry spell, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was also distracting her. If it was easier to give her his cock than his mouth.
“Henning?” she whispered.
“Mmm?”
“I want to kiss.”
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