Gravel flew and crunched noisily in front of her building as he braked sharply. He left the engine running and barely putting the gearshift in park before jumping out of the car and striding to the front door, a man on a mission.
It swung open and Katrin was halfway down the steps as he reached for her, seizing her hips and lifting her easily. She locked her legs around his waist, and he slammed his lips into hers in one fluid, hungry motion. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and his mouth moved frantically, relentlessly over hers.
He hadn’t expected her to jump in his arms, but it set his body on fire for her to be so bold, so spontaneous, and for him to be holding her so intimately with her legs open and locked around his waist. He wanted to push her up against the nearest wall, discard the clothes between them and bury himself inside of her until they both cried out in release.
He boosted her up, holding her backside and she turned her face away, but Erik wasn’t ready to stop. He kissed a trail from her ear down her cheek back to her lips, demanding her mouth again, palms flat against her jeans, holding her intimately against him. She pulled him back to her and opened her mouth to him, stroking his tongue with hers, sucking on it until he thought he’d lose his mind. She ran her fingers through the stubble of his hair, moaning softly into his mouth.
Finally she pulled back, panting, and rested her forehead against his. She loosened her legs from around him, and his hands slid to her hips then her waist as her feet touched the ground. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her as close as possible. Her cheek rested on his chest, over his heart, and Erik could feel her breathing, ragged and heavy, as his hands relaxed, resting on her back.
He had kissed her blindly, madly, deeply, lost in her, reveling in the feeling of her body wrapped around his and when he drew back, he only had one thought: being with Katrin—holding her, kissing her, touching her—is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced in my entire life. She leaned away, looking up at him with heavy-lidded eyes and a surprised, dreamy smile. He put his hands gently on either side of her jaw and lowered his lips to hers again softly, a feather, a caress, a promise.
“Erik…” she breathed, eyes closed.
“’Night, Ӓlskling.” He touched his lips to the tip of her nose and then drew back, walking back to his car.
He looked back up at her before he opened his door.
One more look.
She stood on the top step, fingers lightly touching her lips as he drove away.
ENTR’ACT
Wow.
–Ӓ
***
Wow is right.
–M
***
Morning, Ӓlskling.
Woke up feeling fine, then realized I agreed to have dinner with José on Sunday.
–M
PS, Glad I came back last night.
***
And here I thought you were MY date!
How very modern of you to date us both.
–Ӓ
PS, Me too.
***
Where are we going for dinner?
Maybe I will borrow some groovy threads from my landlord.
–M
***
How can it only be Wednesday?
The Mountain Lake Lodge.
Groovy threads optional.
–Ӓ
***
I heard from Ing.
She said you sounded “really great.”
Did you tell her anything?
–M
***
What exactly would I tell her, Erik?
–Ӓ
***
I don’t know.
Girls talk.
You tell me.
–M
***
I told her we’ve chosen china patterns and named our firstborn.
She was surprised but pleased.
–Ӓ
PS, Of course I didn’t say anything. You are a jackass, Minste.
***
Ӓlskling?
–M
***
Katrin?
–M
***
Okay.
I am a jackass.
–M
***
Honesty is a tonic for the soul.
See you tomorrow.
Mountain Lake Lodge.
Terra Ristorante.
7:00pm.
–Ӓ
***
Let me pick you up at 5:30pm.
They can meet us there.
Söta drömmar, Ӓlskling.
–M
Chapter 10
It had been a very long time since Katrin Svenson dressed up. In fact, the last time she had really dressed up with a purpose, she wore a wedding dress. But, after months and months of grubby sweats, occasional nurse scrubs and a few weeks of jeans and t-shirts, she was actually excited to dress up…well, specifically she was excited to dress up for Erik.
For as cute and sophisticated as she found Skidoo Bay in general, stores for ladies’ apparel weren’t plentiful and if she really wanted something special for dinner on Sunday, she was going to have to bite the bullet and walk into the only real dress shop in town: J Jones Couture Wedding Boutique. Finally mustering her courage, she beelined with precision for the sale rack of short cocktail-length bridesmaid dresses in the back, hoping to avoid a well-intentioned sales associate intent on selling a white gown to her when she had zero interest in ever buying a wedding dress again, as long as she lived.
In the end, there was nothing to fear. A sixteen-year-old girl sat behind the cash register, chewing gum and flipping through People magazine, totally oblivious to Katrin shopping. She left the store pleased with her purchase: a dark brown, knee-length, sleeveless dress in simple satin with a bandeau neckline and a simple cream-colored band at the waist. It didn’t look like a bridesmaid dress at all, and she had the perfect pair of cream, patented leather, peep-toe, kitten-heel shoes to wear with it—shoes she’d bought on a whim at the Payless in Great Falls after seeing Princess Kate wearing the same ones.
She hung the dress carefully in her closet, and it waited there for her until today, ready to
