At the top of the stairs he turned to her. The niceness, the humor, had gone from that much-loved, cheerful expression. Instead his eyes were burning. With desire. And she threw herself into his arms. They carried on making out as they stumbled toward the room. At that moment she wasn’t sure whose room it was, but one of them found a pass key, and Didrik threw open the door.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since you showed up at my office,” he murmured in her ear.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since I saw you at Rendezvous with Elnaz.”
“Have you now?” he whispered in her ear. Then he looked at her again, and she knew that he wanted her, knew that she wanted him in return, their shared desire heightened by what they saw reflected in each other’s eyes. Bente knew what he felt, because she felt exactly the same.
She let her leather jacket slide down her arms and onto the floor. Then she slipped her hands inside the collar of his coat, let her fingers play with those thick curls.Oh God.Continued inside the coat. The tweed fabric was rough, but his cotton shirt was smooth to the touch.His shoulders were so warm. She caressed his cheek, felt the stubble rasp beneath her fingers.
His hand was on the base of her spine. The other hand crept into her hair and took a firm grip, which sent a shiver right through her body. She stroked his shoulders, broad and solid beneath the layers of neatly ironed, respectable clothes.
She so wanted to rip off those clothes. She just wanted Didrik, exactly as he was, nothing more. She could be the woman he used to get over his wife—right now she didn’t care what that might lead to: wild emotions, unrequited love. None of it mattered.
She just wanted him.
She took off his coat, then his jacket, kissing him all the while, deeply and intensely, playing with his tongue. She couldn’t get enough of his kisses, and yet she wanted so much more.
Quickly she unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off.
A shirtless Didrik Holgersson was better than she could ever have imagined. She wanted to touch his body, and she did exactly that, stroked and felt him. She was out of control. His skin was burning.
He pulled down her dress, kissed her shoulder, up along her throat, and she shuddered.
He edged her over to the bed with an unexpected briskness. Quickly removed her dress and gazed at her with a look in his eyes that made her inhale sharply with pleasure.
She propped herself up on her elbows so that she could take off his pants and underpants while he eased her out of her panties.
He caressed the inside of her thigh, gently with one finger, making her whimper impatiently. He continued with his hand, higher and higher, and she whimpered again. Grabbed his shoulders, pulled him down, wanted to feel his weight on her. Meanwhile, that hand was still working, stroking her labia, one finger finding its way to her clitoris, moving in circles, gentle but determined.
She stroked him in turn, loving how hard he was. She paused, dug a condom out of her purse.
He carried on caressing her, and just as she was about to come, he pushed into her. She tried to hold back, suppressed the first wave that tried to take over her body and focused on him, touching him, the back of his neck, his back, his weight on her.
When she could tell that he was close, she let go. Allowed that wonderful wave of pleasure to surge through her body as he thrust harder and harder.
And there it was again, that fantastic pleasure, as she looked up at him through half-closed eyes.
22
When Bente woke up the following morning, her head was pounding and she had a weird feeling in her body. Warm yet slightly nauseous, as if yesterday’s alcohol was overheating her blood. She rarely drank so much that she finished up with a hangover; she loved wine too much to sabotage the experience like that. But yesterday she had ...
At that moment she remembered, and suddenly became aware of something else. Someone was lying next to her, and she had a memory of something wonderful: that warm, relaxed feeling that came only from having sex. She turned her head to see Didrik moving slowly. Seeing his tousled hair, his lips swollen from all the kissing, the stubble that had grown even darker during the night, caused a sense of tenderness within her to wrestle with much more earthy, swirling emotions.
A second later he opened his eyes.
Her heart was racing. She wanted to kiss him, snuggle up close beside him, cancel the train home, stay in this hotel room with him for the rest of the week.
This was not good.
She reminded herself that he’d only needed someone in order to get over his ex. She had to get out of here, save them both from this uncomfortable situation.
But Didrik acted first, pulling her close with complete confidence, as if doing so were the most obvious move.
She had no intention of letting herself be fooled. He was only doing this because he regarded himself as a gentleman. She had to be professional. She sat up. Pulled the sheet over her body.
“Are you okay? Does this feel ... wrong?” Didrik asked hesitantly.
“Not wrong, but ...” She pulled the sheet right up to her chin, wanting to conceal herself. “I don’t think this was wrong, or bad or anything, it’s just that we work together and you’re ... in the middle of a divorce.”
