Her legs shifted again and he turned to take a gentle bite from her thigh, smiling at the peal of giggles that sounded like music to him. Then he couldn’t help himself. He pressed kisses to the inside of her legs, easing into the space she created as she spread them for him. Slowly he drew himself up, kiss by kiss, until he could feel her beneath the entire length of his body. She moulded herself against him, dips filling hollows, curves claiming arches, the feel of her skin like silk.
She reached up to frame his face with her hands as he positioned himself at her entrance. The trust, the need and the sheer honesty he could see in the warm whisky-coloured eyes humbled him. And they rode out the moment together before he slowly entered her, the wet heat welcoming him in a delicious sensuous glide that had Freya gasping on an inhalation.
She surrounded him in a slick grip that held him tight and urged him on, urged him deeper. His mind filled with stars and his heart hurt at the beauty of what he was feeling. Of what he might never feel again. His arms, braced either side of her, began to shake as he held himself while she adjusted around him. The air between them filled with little sighs and pants as she relaxed around him, making him even harder within her. She bucked her hips gently beneath him and he wanted to curse, he wanted to pray. And when they started to move together he was simply mindless.
Freya was drowning in pleasure, gasping through it for air, for something more, something indefinable. As Kjell moved within her she became incoherent with need. That need a physical thing in her chest, growing, expanding, building and desperate for more, forhim. It wanted out. It wanted release. And she could see that same need in Kjell’s eyes as he stared down at her in wonder. She knew. She felt it. That incredulity that something—anything—could be this...incredible. Until that need became so all-consuming that it pushed her right to the edge.
‘Kjell—’
‘I’ve got you,’ he said as he nudged them closer and closer to the precipice. ‘I’ve got you.’
It was the last thing she heard as they soared together over the edge and into the night sky.
CHAPTER EIGHT
FREYASIGHEDASshe slowly woke. Kjell was watching her from the kitchen, holding a cup of coffee and willing her back to sleep just so he could watch her a little more.
Stalker.
Mm-hmm. He agreed with Enzo’s observation. He turned the cup in his hands, missing the man who had been like a brother to him so much that morning it hurt.
What now?
He refused to answer the question that sounded like Enzo, him and even Freya. A Greek chorus commenting on his life. And it was too much, too soon after last night. Another sigh drew his attention back to Freya as she turned beneath the throw he’d had the sanity to cover them with before they’d drifted into sleep just as the sun began to peer through snowflakes that had started to gentle.
His heart thudded in his chest. That she’d never grow round in pregnancy, that she’d never feel the weight, the child growing within her... He could see how much it devastated her. And he wasn’t obtuse. He did understand that she shouldn’t have to parade her pain before the world’s press and population if she didn’t have to. It killed him that he couldn’t protect her from that.
But he knew—as much as he wanted to fight it—he instinctively knew that she shouldn’t step down. She would lose too much. Her sense of identity was inextricably linked with her role and her place with her family. To lose that as well as the chance to carry a child to term... He shook his head, his heart breaking for her. She wouldn’t make it. But he couldn’t and wouldn’t force that realisation on her. He could only hope to help her understand that for herself.
She stirred again, her body rippling with wakefulness, even though her eyes were still closed.
‘Mmm... Coffee?’ she asked, turning towards him with a smile. There was a hint of something there in her eyes. Nervousness? Not insecurity, but something...uncertain.
In an instant his thoughts and concerns were masked behind a smile, and he allowed some of the wicked heat she inspired in him to show so that doubt disappeared from her gaze.
She reached her arms out from beneath the throw and her body arched into a stretch that threatened to undo his plans. ‘Shower.’ She exhaled.
‘Later. After coffee.’
She frowned.
‘I have plans,’ he said, answering her unspoken question.
‘Plans,’ she repeated, desire blooming behind those amber eyes.
He barked a laugh. ‘Notthosekinds of plans.’ And he smirked as she pouted.
Freya put her coffee down on the table with athunkas Kjell finished explaining what he had in mind, shock and no small amount of fear shimmering in her chest.
‘No! Absolutely not. No. You’re insane.’
‘It’s good for you.’
‘There isnothinggood about that. I’ll die. Literally.’
‘Don’t be silly, you won’t die. We do it all the time.’
‘Who is thiswe? I don’t see anyone else here, and I think you’re lying. So, no. I won’t do it.’