It’s also about having Viktor in every single way I can get.
In New York, the few dates I’d gone on, some of them had ended in sex. Sometimes the first date, often the second. And I was nervous for each one. Worried about everything from how the guy was going to judge my body or my performance, to whether it was going to be any good, what kind of protection we were going to use, if it was going to be weird to be intimate with someone I didn’t know well. Sometimes I even worried if the guy would be an asshole if I decided to say no.
But with Viktor…it’s different. Every single thing about him is different. He’s nothing like the guys I’ve dated or slept with. What we have, whatever it is, is nothing like the relationships I’ve had before.
Don’t get me wrong, I am nervous about having sex with him. I want everything to be perfect, I want to make it so he’ll never forget me. I want him to strip all my inhibitions away and turn me into a wanton, greedy woman. But at the same time, it feels like it has to be this way. I mean, the first time I laid eyes on this man, he was buck naked. After that, everything sort of fell into place.
I know my cheeks are hot right now under his gaze. My body has been doing nothing but betraying me this past week.
He pulls the car around to the back of the hotel where one of the valets cheerfully takes the vehicle, gushing over the make and model and all that car stuff. The mustang is a gorgeous blue, the color of the deep Pacific, and a few middle-aged women waiting for their rides, big sunglasses taking over their face, are admiring it.
Or maybe they’re admiring Viktor. Everyone here seems to be somebody and Viktor definitely is. They might not recognize him as the crown prince of Sweden but with his stature and his ridiculous good looks, they probably assume he’s a movie star.
Of course I feel out of place at the Roosevelt. It’s not abundantly fancy but it’s got this hip, young Hollywood vibe, and let’s face it, the place is way too cool for me. I wish I had put more thought into my clothes on this trip instead of slipping on jeans, a tank top and Converse but I pretend that I’m so famous, I don’t even need to dress up.
“Here you go, Mr. Andersson,” the smiling receptionist says to Viktor as she hands him the key cards and for a moment I’m confused until I remember that he has to travel under the fake name and only I know who he really is.
The receptionist then seems to wink at me and gives me an impish smile. Jeez, they sure are friendly here. You don’t get that kind of greeting at my hotel.
Viktor waves away any help with the bags, which is odd because I assumed that he’s used to having people do stuff for him. I mean he told me he not only has a private secretary but a butler as well.
We walk through the hotel toward the pool area, past cool little outdoor bars with Turkish rugs, a multitude of dangling lights all over the place. People are drinking, socializing, some are jumping in the pool. Again, not the type of hotel I’m used to working in.
“I was going to get that room for us,” he nods at a door as we pass it on the second floor, the walls here are white concrete or brick, giving you the feel of being somewhere exotic. “It was Marilyn Monroe’s suite. Unfortunately, someone had already taken it.”
“Jerks,” I mumble under my breath. I love Marilyn but I’m just so damn happy to be here, I would have taken anyone’s room.
“Here we are,” Viktor says as he pauses at one of the doors. I could be wrong, but I swear he looks nervous.
He takes an anxious look at me, as if to say here goes nothing, and then swipes the key in front of it, opening the door.
We step into the room.
He flicks on the light.
It takes me a moment to take it all in. It’s a really nice room for sure but that’s not what grabs my eye, causes my hand to fly to my chest and makes me gasp.
A trail of purple flowers leads from where we’re standing at the door all the way to the bed, the white bedcover absolutely covered in them.
Then the smell hits me and my eyes adjust better.
Lavender.
Instead of rose petals, the room has been sprinkled with lavender.
I stare at Viktor in disbelief. “Did you do this?”
“Well, I had the hotel do it, but yes.”
I’m completely dumfounded by this.
He did this.
For me?
“Do you like it?” he asks tepidly, and now I see why he was so anxious before.
“Viktor,” I say, his name comes out breathless as all my emotions rush to the surface. “This is the most romantic, beautiful thing that anyone has ever done for me.”
He shoves his suitcase and my duffel bag off to the side and then places both of his hands on either side of my cheeks. I love it when he does this. His hands are so large, warm, strong; my face so small in comparison. I feel protected and adored.
Wanted.
Captive.
His.
The heated glint in his eyes spear me, holding me in place as much as his hands do, and he looks dangerously handsome, the lights in the room showcasing the sharpness of his cheekbones and the hollows underneath. He has a face that you could see someone like Da Vinci trying to paint, forever trying to capture his beauty but never getting it quite right because it’s Viktor himself that takes your breath away, it’s his spirit and soul that shines through the symmetry of his features.
His gaze drops to my lips, his gorgeously long lashes creating shadows against his golden skin.
“Mitt liv, mitt allt,” he murmurs in Swedish, his voice so low and rough it makes shivers shower down my back. “Mitt Maggie.”
I don’t understand what he’s said, all I know is that he means it.
His thumb runs across the edge of my jaw, pausing at my lips.
“I could kiss you for a thousand days and it still wouldn’t be enough,” he says. “I could gaze at you for a million days and it wouldn’t be enough. I could touch you, taste you, be so deep inside you that you’re fused to my skin, do this forever and it still wouldn’t be enough. Forever with you isn’t enough.”
Tears prick at the back of my eyes. I swallow, trying to stay strong. This shouldn’t be so hard. This shouldn’t feel like this. I shouldn’t be so lost, so head over heels over heart for this man.
We should have stayed strangers.
That thought sends a jolt through me. On one hand, had we never gotten to know each other like this, it wouldn’t hurt so much to have him leave. On the other hand…fuck. I wouldn’t have known this.
I’ve never had this before.
I’m not sure if I will again.
He’s right. If forever wouldn’t be enough, these last few days sure as hell won’t be.
“But,” he says, leaning in and softly places his mouth on mine, dragging his top lip over my top lip. Somehow he tastes like lemon drops. “We both know I don’t have you forever. Only for a few days. And I am going to spend every moment with you, trying to stretch it out into infinity. I want to feel your lips burn on mine the entire plane ride back home. I want the taste of you still in my mouth as I fall asleep at night.” He brings his face back just enough as one of his hands slips down to the hem of my top, tugging at it impatiently. “I would like to get started now.”
I laugh at his sudden formality. “Well okay then,” I tell him, raising my arms above my head so he can pull the top right off. “Let’s get started.”
He grins at me and yanks the top over my head, leaving me in just my bra. My best bra though, in racy red balconette lace. In the past maybe I would have covered up my breasts, feeling insecure or on display, but it’s impossible to feel anything but desired with the way Viktor is staring at me.
I shift backward and undo my jeans, shimmying out of them, so I’m standing in just my thong and bra. I feel like I’m burning up under the heat of his gaze, a look that both terrifies me and gives me courage. Feigning confidence, I hook my thumbs around the lacey sides of my underwear and start to pull them down.
“Wait,” Viktor says hoarsely. “I want to take them off with my teeth.”
Well, jeez.
Yes.
He gestures to the petal-strewn bed and starts unbuttoning the short-sleeve dress shirt he’s wearing. “Lie down. On your back. Legs over the end.”
I raise my brows. “Wow, demanding much?”
My defiance makes his eyes flicker. Gives me a quick, cunning smile as he steps toward me and places one hand on my chest.
“Lie down,” he whispers gruffly into my ear, giving me a small push downward until my knees are buckling and I’m falling, the lavender pressing into my spine. “On your back.”
He then reaches down and grabs both of my hips with bruising strength and yanks me so that my ass is on the edge of the mattress. “Legs over the end,” he repeats.
I haven’t seen this side of Viktor before and I’m taken aback, staring at his broad throat where his pulse ticks. I blink up to meet his eyes and I see fire crackling along the glacial blue, a wildness he’s kept so well hidden beneath his stately demeanor.
I like this side of him.
No, I love it.
He gives me that wicked smile again and then I’m met with a hard, punishing kiss that takes my breath away. I arch up for him, lacing my fingers around the back of his neck to keep from falling further back as his hands slips across my stomach, down between my legs. His fingers glide over the fabric of my underwear.
“This all for me?” he murmurs against my mouth. “All so wet for me?”
Everything is for you, I think.
The pressure from his fingers deepens, ripping a gasp from my throat.
God…oh…that feels nice.
Nice in a way that makes me realize how fucking hungry for him, for this, I am. I have no doubt that he won’t take long to make me come.
He pulls back and brings his mouth down my neck, over my collarbones, my breasts, the sides of my waist. He’s both kissing and nipping, sweet sharp pain that creates jolts of electricity between my legs.
His teeth raze down my hips and he takes the strap of my underwear in his mouth, his tongue curling around, and pulls it down. I bite my lip and bring my legs together to help him get it off. It doesn’t look that easy but it looks sexy as hell.