Page 83 of Sin of Love
41
Lake Inari, Finland
“When I askedyou to take me somewhere cold, I didn’t mean to this extreme.”
Nothing amuses Gideon quite so much as when I act like a shrew, but this time I’m not exaggerating just to make him laugh. It’s 11-freaking-degrees outside. Since it’s been snowing every day since we got here, we’ve been more or less stuck in this tiny cabin perched on the edge of the frozen lake.
Today, finally, the weather began to clear, and hopefully this evening the clouds will part and we’ll be able to see why he dragged me to Santa’s armpit.
The Aurora Borealis.
“I’m sure it will be beautiful, but a postcard would have been fine.”
He takes a nonchalant sip of tea, then issues a contented sigh. “Au contraire, I’m making good on my promise to light up your world.”
“Wow,” I deadpan.
His grin flips my stomach. “Isn’t this relaxing? Look at that view! Oh, did you read in that pamphlet about all the different mythologies surrounding the Northern Lights? So fascinating. My favorite was the Native Americans—the Algonquins, I think—who believed the lights were from a fire built by their creator as a reminder that he watched over them. See? Fire in the sky. Lighting up your world. Same.”
My head quiets. My body stills, but I’m tense. On the edge of action. Like I’m back on that little plank in France with the blackest black beneath me—only this time, I’m not jumping into darkness but light.
“Gideon?”
“Hmm?”
“Let’s go to bed.”
“No way! My app said this is the only clear night for the next three weeks. We can’t miss…” He trails off as my expression registers, and I watch the progression of emotion across his face: surprise, relief, lust, and finally, concern.
“Deirdre, I meant what I said, there’s no rush. Is this because I was staring at your ass earlier? I’m sorry—”
“Oh, shut up.”
I soften the words with a smile and set my tea on the nearby table. Outside the wide window, night swallows the remaining light. Not that there was actual daylight today—more like a few hours of twilight sandwiched between thirteen hours of darkness. So far, I can’t say I’m a fan of Finland in November.
I’m hoping that changes tonight. Please, I beseech whatever God might be listening, let me have this.
Taking Gideon’s cup from his hands, I set it beside mine. “I don’t need fires in the sky.”
He stares up at me, expectant and wary. “You don’t?”
I offer him my hand. The quiet world outside reflects the quiet world here, in this cabin and in my heart, where there’s only the two of us. Safe. Warm. Together.
“Forget the Aurora Borealis. I need you.”
He rises to his feet, the graceful movement electrifying my senses. I lift my arms in invitation and he sweeps me up, burrowing his face into my neck. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I hug him as hard as I can, and when his face lifts, I follow my heart to his lips.
The first silken graze of our mouths brings tears to my eyes, and as the kiss deepens, my fears melt away. This is Gideon. He would never hurt me. I’m safe.
I hang secure in his arms as he worships my mouth, slowly, decadently, like he’s remapping it with his lips and tongue. Only when I’m a puddle of desire, boiled down to primal need, does he lift his head.
“I love you,” he whispers, and when I see his eyes I realize it wasn’t just my tears I tasted in our kiss, but his, too.
“I know, and I love you. Now what did you tell me when I was about to bungee jump off that viaduct? Ah, yes. Quit stalling.”
The journey to the bedroom is swift. Gideon sets me down near the door. He strips off his sweater and reaches for his shirt, then pauses and heads for the dresser to rummage through a drawer. When he turns around, he’s holding at least seven candles of varying shapes and sizes.
“Candlelight?”
