“Is that right?” Now he was smiling too. At the sight of her. At the sudden ease of their exchange. “I’m sorry they didn’t faithfully follow Swedish custom, then.”
To be fair, her bikini hadn’t hidden much anyway. Not how stiff her nipples got after he’d toyed with them. Not the seam of her pussy when she’d stood before him and he’d traced that tempting line with a light fingertip, the brief, teasing touch a promise. A promise he’d made good on as soon as they locked the hotel room door and he slid his hand between her legs.
When she came that first time, his fingers deep inside her, his thumb on her clit, her hair wrapped around his left fist, she’d moaned so loudly he’d expected a call from the front desk.
Holy shit. At thirty-six years old, how was he getting hard again this quickly?
“At the very least, I should have been able to go topless.” When he concentrated on maintaining eye contact and thus failed to respond, she elaborated. “Everyone has nipples, Peter. Why only some people get to display them without police citations, I have no idea.”
This was entrapment. She was kneeling on the bed naked and talking about nipples, for fuck’s sake. No jury of his peers would convict him for his wandering gaze.
He cleared his throat. “Uh—”
“No, that’s a lie. I know why.”
He blinked at her.
“Patriarchy,” she declared.
Well, he couldn’t really argue with that. “Ah.”
That explained a few things. Including why, unlike every other woman he’d bedded, she evidently didn’t shave or wax. Not that he cared. That blond hair between her dimpled thighs, under her arms, on her legs—it hadn’t turned him off. It was yet another sign of the confidence that so aroused him, and it had made the whole encounter feel...
Primal, maybe. Honest.Intimate, in a way he hadn’t anticipated.
Disregarding the modern conveniences of the hotel room, she could have been a woman from almost any point in time. Painting an antelope on a cave wall. Marching to battle alongside Joan of Arc. Boarding a Viking war vessel, a shield-maiden armed and pitiless in the face of danger.
It was all way too dramatic for a simple hookup. Foolishly overromantic, especially for the taciturn, plainspoken sort of man hewas. But to him, in that moment of sexual connection—tangled together, heat against heat, his body inside hers—they’d felt like lovers out of time.
The feeling had shaken him. Left him floundering and uncertain in a way he’d never experienced after sex. He needed to know if it would happen again. He needed to know whether that tectonic shift was a fluke, or... not.
But Maria was still talking, and he also needed to listen. Because at some point it would be good to know, just for example, herfucking last name.
“Plus, I’ve heard Americans have more hang-ups about nudity and sex than Swedes,” she said breezily. “Which seems to be correct, from what I’ve seen so far.”
The cultural differences between Sweden and the U.S. interested him. They really did. But right now, he intended to steer the conversation toward more basic information.
“So, I was wondering.” His beard had left the delicate skin between her breasts pink, and he could barely drag his eyes away from that telltale, viscerally satisfying flush. “Do you live in LA, or are you just visiting for fun, or...?”
Her kiss-swollen lips compressed for a moment. “I’m here for a job opportunity.”
Which meant she might live in Sweden still. But where? And what job was she applying for? Did she think she’d get the position?
Shit, he was terrible at this. With anyone else, literally anyone, she’d say more, elaborate on her answers, give them the context he—
Suddenly, he was on his back again, her palm firm on his chest, her hair tickling his face as she planted a hard kiss on his mouth. Before he could catch his breath, she was moving downhis body, then down again, dragging her open mouth over his neck, his chest, his belly.
Oh, fuck.Fuck.
Her strong hands spread his legs, and she crawled between them.
Then she proceeded to blow his damn mind—again—with that wide, talented mouth of hers before riding them both to another orgasm.
After that, he had no words left. None. She’d taken them all, just as she’d taken him.
And by God, he wasn’t complaining. Not even a little.
The chiming alarm on his cell woke him, and he stretched with a quiet groan, enjoying the brush of cool hotel sheets against his skin and the lingering ache in his well-used muscles after a long, hot night.