‘I may just allow you to, but only if you address me the way you crave to.’
I’d bared myself to him, admitted that I wasn’t sure how capable I was of returning the feelings he craved from me. But this I could give him. He dropped to his knees, and I was awed all over again by how magnificently comfortable he was in that position. How magnificent he was, full stop.
With reverent hands, he took my clothes off and then, at my nod, he undressed himself, pulled back the coverlet and helped me into bed.
Sliding between my thighs, he wrapped his arms around me. ‘Jeg elsker dig. I love you.’ He dropped a long kiss on my lips. ‘Merry Christmas, my heart. Min elskerinde.’
‘Merry Christmas, Jensen.’
We spent Christmas in bed making the most sublime love I’d ever known.
Jensen was searingly sweet, attentive and generous with his love. With every second that passed, my soul healed.
When Bryce called out of the blue, I bit back tears as I wished him and Savvie a merry Christmas. A text from Gideon an hour later daring me to spend New Year with him and Leonie brought on another emotion bout.
I’d never discovered what my mother had written to them in their letters, and I didn’t need to. Not any more. Somehow we’d all found happiness despite the abysmal odds, and that was enough for me.
I was a little apprehensive when Jensen strode into the room the next night, breathtaking in his tuxedo. I was also formally dressed in a strapless gown, with shoes and a matching clutch. Diamonds sparkled at my throat and in my ears, and my hair was slicked back and down my back, a simple enough style that’d surprisingly taken more time than I’d anticipated, making me a little late and a lot flustered when Jensen halted in his tracks.
‘Holy fuck, you look incredible,’ he breathed, his voice rough.
‘All this wasn’t achieved without huge effort, I’ll tell you that.’
He shook his head, his hands sliding over my waist to grip my hips. He loved gripping me there, and I loved his big, callused hands on me.
‘The outer package is merely the support act to the real diamond beneath that shines through your eyes, your smile. I taste it when I kiss you. Feel it when I’m inside you.’
I fanned my face, swallowing more than once before I could speak. ‘You’re going to make me cry again and ruin my make-up and make us late to wherever we’re going.’
He gave a wicked smile, kind enough not to point out how many times I’d dissolved into tears in the last twenty-four hours. It was as if all the grief, anger and bitterness I’d bottled up inside had needed an outlet immediately. He’d never once complained.
He’d simply gathered me in his arms and held me until the storm passed. That simple act of kindness had helped me heal faster, enough to tentatively embrace the phenomenon of his love.
He held out his hand and I slipped mine into it, my heart flooding with joy as he walked us out of the door and downstairs to his car.
The bright lights of Copenhagen flashed by as we headed into the inner city. When he stopped in front of a futuristic-looking glass building, I stepped out, looking for clues as to where we were.
‘If you’re trying to guess where we are, don’t bother. Unless you’ve become fluent in Danish in the last day and a half?’
I shook my head, laughing. ‘I’m good, but not that good.’
Jensen tossed his keys to a valet and held out his arm to me. I slipped mine through and we walked together into the building that turned out to be an art gallery.
My eyes widened. ‘It’s your exhibit?’ I guessed, thrilled.
He nodded with a smile. ‘My agent thinks it’s about time for another one.’
‘I wholeheartedly agree.’
He mock-winced. ‘I hope the two of you never meet. My life would become unbearable.’
‘It’s because we both believe in you. Your work is magic.’
He leaned down, his lips brushing my earlobe and making me shiver. ‘That’s what you keep insisting in the bedroom. And I might just start to believe you, min elskerinde.’
I was laughing when we walked into the first, largest room.
My laughter died, my senses overtaken by a different sort of pleasure.
The space was filled with Jensen’s work, starting from the first time he’d picked up a camera to his latest project, which happened to be mine. The whole place was hushed, the guests admiring his work in reverent silence.
We walked slowly through the gallery, stopping every now and then when a guest stopped him to congratulate him or express their wonder at his talents. He accepted accolades with a simple nod and smile, but as we drew closer to the end of the exhibit, he grew apprehensive.
‘Something wrong?’
He flashed a smile. ‘I hope not.’
About to ask what he meant, I held my tongue as his mother, stepfather and sister approached. His mother was smiling, her smile a little tearful as she addressed her son. Dag simply beamed, the proud father.
After a quick exchange in Danish, Agnetha turned to me. ‘Your lovely presents arrived this morning, Graciela. Thank you so much, but you really shouldn’t have. You’ve given me the best Christmas present.’ Her gaze veered to her son, fresh tears filming her eyes.
Tears clogging my own throat, I waved her away. I’d woken a slightly disgruntled Elsa and had her raid the emergency presents stash I kept in the office. Agnetha’s scarf, Dag’s vintage bottle of red, and Merete’s crystal bracelet had been hand-delivered this morning, along with Christmas cards and a present for Mikkel.
‘Excuse us, please,’ Jensen said to his family, then smoothly led me down a short, darkened hallway.
‘Where are we going?’ I asked, excitement mixing with a touch of anxiety.
‘You’ll see,’ was all he said.
I was learning that in some things Jensen was immovable. He was
