He examines his cuticles, like they’re the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. “She doesn’t have to anymore.”
So, he supports her. I take a large gulp of wine—which is probably inappropriate, given the bottle looks half-decent, something he’s saved for an occasion, but I don’t really care. It’s earthy and smooth. Mattias’s gaze flickers up to me, lingering on my throat as I swallow.
“I’m really sorry to hear that,” I say. “It sounds like you had to grow up too fast.”
“Don’t pity me, Hearst. It wasn’t so bad, and Micke takes care of himself now. Besides, I make enough now to ensure my mother’s taken care of for the rest of her life, and I can look after Micke’s family, too, if he needs it when that time comes. There’s nothing to worry about anymore.”When I don’t have a response to that, he adds, “So then what’s your tragedy? How does a sweet girl like you end up cut out of the family trust?”
I laugh at the way he sayssweet girl, clearly mocking in that Swedish lilt of his. It’s kind of funny when he puts it like that. I finish my glass and skewer another meatball on my fork.
“I dropped out of business school two years ago. My father won’t release my inheritance without me earning a business degree, which is never going to happen. I don’t want all the pressure and surveillance that comes with that money anyway.”
“A business degree? Why do you need that?” His upper lip curls. “Doesn’t he know you want to be a filmmaker?”
“Yes, and he disapproves. I don’t think it’s really about my career. It’s about keeping me under control.”
“So, he doesn’t care what makes you happy.” It’s a statement, not a question.
It almost sounds likehecares what makes me happy—or like he can relate.
“Happiness isn’t the goal,” I sigh. “The goal is making sure the family stays richer than god.”
“So, you don’t have any money?” His icy eyes are razor sharp.
I flush. I don’t normally tie wealth to worth, but for some reason, his comment makes me feel unworthy.I don’t want him to think I’m a failure, I realize. Clearing my throat, I say, “I get by. I’ve got enough to keep me afloat for a while, and like I said, I don’t want to be part of the trust, anyway. That’s why I took this job. Do I look like the kind of girl who’d make a hockey documentary by choice?” It’s an attempt at steering the conversation away from my flaws.
“You look like the kind of girl who can’t tell a stick from a puck—or at least you did at first. Admittedly, your game intuition has improved substantially.”
I look at him incredulously. “No way you just complimented me, Falkenberg.”
He stands and crosses to me, leaning over me to grab the plate. In doing so, he leans down close to my face and whispers, “I would never.”
His lingering proximity and the way he continues to hold my gaze sends a rush of heat straight to my core. This close, I can see the darker ring of blue around his irises, the way his pupils are beginning to eclipse it.
“Good,” I whisper back. “You wouldn’t want me to get the wrong idea.”
His gaze darkens and I clench around nothing, my breath turning shallow.
I hardly believe what’s happening when he snatches my chin between his fingers and drags my mouth open with the pad of his thumb. My pulse pounds, his eyes boring into mine.
“Don’t push me, Hearst,” he says, a threat in my ear as the pad of his thumb swipes over my lower lip to remove a smear of berry.
It’s unfair, the way three little words can make me so miserably wet.
I’m done dancing around each other, playing this little game. I grab a fistful of his shirt, and pull his mouth to mine.
Chapter 31
Mattias
For a second I’m frozen, my mind reeling with all of the reasons this is a terrible, horrible idea—but then her mouth moves against mine, hot and needy and practically begging for it, and I give in. My hands thread into her hair, tugging at the roots as I draw her bottom lip between my teeth. She opens her mouth for me, and I groan as she pulls me closer. She tastes like summer, soft and warm with the lingering tang of berries on her tongue.
She stands, her arms threading around my neck, and my hands immediately catch her wrists, pinning them back at her sides. Her eyes blink open, a devastating look of uncertainty in her expression, and I can’t help the small uptick of my lips as I look down at her, drinking in her flustered state.
I step towards her, kissing her, and she stumbles back, her ass hitting the edge of my kitchen table. I pull back for a moment, my breath ragged, looking for any trace of doubt in her expression. I only see desire, and I’m desperate when I crush my mouth against hers again.
We both know we shouldn’t be doing this. Neither of us seem to care.
My hand drops lower, dragging over the dip of her waist, pushing into her hips, my fingertips teasing under the hem of her shirt. I half-expect her to recoil, but instead she leans into my touch, pressing herself against me. The greedy witch has the audacity to palm me over my trousers, and I can’t stop the groan that tears from my throat. I grab both of her hands and pin them behind her back before she tries to get handsy again. This isn’t for me. She looks frustrated, burning a hole in me with her dark, smoldering eyes.
