His palm was flat on her chest, under her breasts. She felt his chest rise and fall rhythmically behind her as he slept, and she put her hand over his, closing her eyes.
I love you, Erik Lindstrom. You’re mine.
***
It was dawn and the beginnings of sunlight filtered through the window into her room, dim and dreamlike, illuminating her hair like a halo. Her lashes fanned out on her cheek, and her lips looked bruised and red from so much loving. Erik loved that.
She’s mine.
He pillowed his head on his flat hands and stared at her. At one point last night, she had called out “Love me, Erik!” and while she’d meant the words in the physical sense, his mind had answered her plea with the response, I do.
As he watched her, the words rose to the surface of his consciousness again, and he felt them resound with an astounding certainty: I do. I do love you, Kat.
He breathed in deeply, confronted with the reality that had been creeping up on him for weeks, since the very first moment he met her; he wasn’t just attracted to Katrin. She wasn’t merely fun, or a passing infatuation, or anything impermanent in his life. The stark phenomenon of Erik’s life stared him in the face with undisputed clarity: he was in love with Katrin Svenson.
“Aw, Älskling,” he murmured, eyes burning, overcome with the strength and surety of his feelings for her.
Stirring lightly, her eyes fluttered opened, then closed again, and she moved closer to him, snuggling her breasts against his chest.
“Är jag din Älskling?” she breathed, the same words she had murmured in her sleep as she napped beside him on their first car ride to Skidoo. Am I your sweetheart?
“Ja. Du är min Älskling. Du tillhör mig.” Yes. You are my sweetheart. You belong to me.
It was the closest he dared come to telling her that he loved her. He watched her lips turn up in a half-asleep grin, and swallowed against the strength, the sheer purity, of his feelings for her. He trailed a finger down her side from under her arm, skimming her breasts, to her hip and back again.
She opened her eyes, heavy-lidded and dreamy. “Make love to me, Minste.”
His eyes dilated, his blood rushed, and he covered her body with his.
***
“You’re going to be sore, Kat. No more for now. Later.”
“Later?” she asked, pouting.
He chuckled, trapping her mischievous hands between his. “Wow. So wanton. Where’s the girl from the car yesterday who was so shy?”
“Now I’m too forward for you?” Katrin looked at him with wide eyes, incredulous, saucy. “Somehow I doubt that. I was there for the ‘I want you in my bed’ speech, Minste.”
He rolled on top of her, bracing himself on his elbows as he peppered her face with little kisses.
“Too forward? Nah.” Kiss. “Too…trusting?” Kiss. “Too…sweet?” Kiss. “Too…beautiful?” Kiss. “Too good for me? Definitely.” He nudged her nose with his and smiled, his eyes shining with his feelings for her. “Took me a while to find my way, Kat, but I’m here now.”
She raised her eyebrows, naughty hands deployed, and murmured provocatively, “It’s later, Erik.”
Defeated, he kissed her swollen lips. Too much happiness.
***
“It’s time to get up,” she said, picking up the clock on her bedside table and showing it to him. She swung her legs over the side of her bed, her back to him.
“Stay.” He reached out and snaked a hand around her waist from where he lay next to her on his back.
She looked at him over her shoulder, smiling and scolding at once. “Minste.”
“Huh. Was I Minste last night? This morning?”
He tugged on her waist and she lay back, resting the back of her head on his washboard stomach while his hand wandered over her chest, up and down her arm, fingers finally resting lightly on the warm, soft plane of flat skin between her neck and her breasts.
“You were perfect. This was perfect. But, they’ll be waiting for me,” she said, picking up his hand and bringing it to her lips. She pressed a kiss to each fingertip before turning around, pressing her breasts against his chest, and smiling at his beautiful face that she loved so much. “I have to go to Paradise.”
He gazed at her, so steadily, so tenderly, it was like he was memorizing her; it was like he’d never seen anything as precious as Katrin.
Finally, he murmured back, “We’re already there, Älskling. We’re already there.”
Chapter 16
While he showered, she made them a simple breakfast consisting of waffles she found abandoned in her freezer, and fruit cocktail from a can, distributed into two small bowls.
She hummed as she prepared two plates, wishing she had more to offer him. Her kitchen smelled like strong coffee that would be, unfortunately, black, but she found some sugar, so it could be as sweet as he liked. As sweet as he was.
She set the table, then looked out the window from the kitchen when something glistening in the sunshine caught her eye: out by the woodpile behind the garage was—what was it? Glass? She squinted. The sun was sure bouncing off of it, making it sparkle, whatever it was. It looked almost like ice, but that made no sense in June. She slipped her flip-flops on, and headed down the stairs, a foreboding feeling chasing her steps as she made her way around the garage.
She peeked around the side of the building and gasped, confronted with a veritable mountain of clear bottles. Some completely empty, some with a good swallow left at the bottom, all of them with jaunty red,
