2
anywhere you want
We walked the San Francisco streets, through Little Italy and Chinatown. Neither of us said much, and I barely remembered what we passed along the way. My mind was playing back our conversation in the restaurant. I glanced over at Niklas and saw the sadness still etched on his face.
We turned and headed back up the hill to our hotel. A few months ago, if someone had told me I would end my trip around the world at the Ritz Carlton, I would have laughed. Even putting aside the impossibility of the expense, it wasn’t at all what I had in mind for my summer.
And yet here we were, ordering room service and rolling around in absurdly soft sheets. My days of gritty, adventurous photojournalism had ended. Niklas and I were no longer uncovering new places for stories to tell. Instead, we had become the sort of pampered tourists who skimmed the surface of a city through the windows of the limousine that picked us up from the airport. Except part of me that enjoyed the luxury. The ease. The pampering. Exactly the opposite of what I had set out for when I left Detroit.
Now, after a day back in my hiking boots with my camera around my neck, I couldn’t have felt more out of place as we walked up to the hotel’s stately entrance. The hotel really was meant to be entered by car, not on foot, in sweaty clothes.
“This place looks like the White House, and right now I’m nowhere near dressed for an evening with the president,” I whispered as we walked up the half-moon driveway.
Niklas stopped, taking my hand so I stopped as well. He tugged a little until I turned around and came back to him. He wrapped his arms around me, staring at me as if we weren’t in front of this high-end hotel, in the presence of doormen and drivers helping expensive guests out of limos. As if we were alone again, just the two of us.
“You look beautiful, Caroline.”
He stroked my cheek and brushed his lips against mine. Just that light touch made my insides stir.
“I chose this place for the view,” he continued, “but we can go somewhere else. Anywhere you want.”
“Thanks, but I’m enjoying it, too,” I said, wrapping my arms around his waist. “How do you go in and out of this life so easily? I don’t think I’d ever feel at home somewhere like this.”
I gestured at the enormous white hotel. His other arm slipped lower, pulling me closer.
“Nothing about being here is easy,” he said. “Only when I feel like it’s just you and me.”
His statement felt so simple and clear. My breath caught in my throat, and I swallowed back the lump forming.
Don’t think about what comes next.
I pulled his head down for a soft, lingering kiss. He took a moment to respond, letting me take the lead. My lips held my apology and the raw tenderness that the aftermath of our argument had left. He shuddered under my slow movements, hinting at the fears he kept well-guarded.
The shudder seemed to trigger a rush of desire in him. He moved his hand to the back of my neck and ran his tongue along the seam of my lips, begging entry. I recognized his hunger. After traveling together, through the inevitable frustrations, confusions and misunderstandings, I was intimately familiar with it now. It tipped from want into need, and I welcomed it.
He broke off the kiss, leaning his forehead on mine, stroking my arms with both hands. His rough palms smoothed over my skin, reminding me of more intimate ways these same hands had touched me. Reminding me that we were standing outside the Ritz Carlton, in view of the steady flow of patrons and employees in the front drive.
“We should go in,” I whispered.
Niklas nodded, but he didn’t move. He waited, letting his breath slow. His hands stilled on my shoulders, and he leaned down and kissed the base of my neck.
“Okay,” he said, “let’s go.”
I hadn’t just imagined it. People stared at us for a moment too long, though we did a good job of pretending not to be interested. Was it our scruffy clothes? Or the fact that I had just been caught in a less-than-decorous kiss? Niklas either didn’t notice or didn’t care. His hand rested on the back of my neck, his thumb gently stroking my skin. When I glanced up at him, his gaze was focused on the ground in front of us.
We walked through the lobby, not speaking. The room sparkled in golden-white and chandeliers. I looked down, trying to find a way across the distance these last few hours had driven between them. I focused on the desire building in me with each step closer to our room. The ache in my legs from the long, steep climb faded away. As we stood in the over-decorated hall, waiting for the elevator, his hand slipped lower, down my back to the top curve of my rear. I heard the hiss of his breath. His fingers cupped me, pulling me closer, but he still stared at the ground, not looking in my direction.
The elevator doors opened, and he nudged me forward, following close enough to brush against me. Before the door had fully closed, he planted his feet on both sides of mine. He put his hands on my hips and pulled me against him, making his intentions perfectly clear. His lips brushed the skin below my ear, sending a wave of arousal straight to my core.
“Fuck, I want you so badly, Caroline,” he whispered, his breath coming in pants. “I need to be close to you again.”
I reached for the button with our floor number, pressing a few others along the way. Niklas chuckled.
“What do you want,älskling?” he said, his voice heavy in my ear.
“You, Niklas. Only you.”
This was the truth. At that moment, I wanted nothing on earth more than I wanted to feel his hot skin on mine. His erection throbbed against me, and his hands tightened around my hips. From somewhere in the haze of arousal, I smiled. We could find each other again, despite all the things that had pulled us apart.
