“The housekeeper comes twice a week. I brings groceries, cleans, does the laundry and fixes a meal.”
I tried to keep my voice light. “Just twice a week? In this kitchen?”
The corners of his mouth quirked up a little. “It’s usually not this bare. I fix my own meals, believe it or not, but I sent a bunch of stuff to Sweden, remember?”
I gave him a real smile this time. How could I forget the wooden spoon and spatula from our first encounter? He rested both hands on my thighs, gently stroking me with his thumbs.
“Back to the housekeeper thing. If you really don’t like the idea, I doesn’t have to come. But I’m not much for cleaning or laundry, and you’ve already told me you’re not either.”
I sipped my coffee as his hands slid up to my waist.
“We’ll figure something out, but let’s keep her until then,” he said, moving a little closer. After our conversation in the airport, he didn’t seem to want to discuss the future.
“Okay,” I whispered.
Just having his body so near made my voice come out a little breathless. His eyes widened, sensing my shift in mood. He glanced down at the cup in my hand.
“Finished with your coffee?” he asked, his voice huskier. “I still haven’t shown you the bedroom.”
I set down my mug.
“I think I’m ready now,” I said, bringing my hands around his neck so our mouths were almost touching. “Take me to your bedroom, Niklas.”
He chuckled and lifted me off the counter for a soft, lingering kiss.
“This way,” he said, tugging gently at my hand, his voice low and inviting.
He led me down a short stairway onto a landing, lit by skylights. The staircase itself turned and continued down to the bottom level, but Niklas stopped on the landing and reached for a door I had assumed was a closet.
“What’s down there?” I asked, pointing down the rest of the staircase.
“A home theater and a workout room.”
Of course it would be something decadent like that. I peered down, but Niklas rested his hand on the curve of my lower back and said, “Later.”
He opened the door off the landing. It most certainly wasn’t a closet. It was an enormous bedroom.
Like the living room above, the walls were white and bare, as was the duvet that covered the king-sized bed, but the wooden floor, exposed beams and a rough, wooden dresser filled the room with warmth. As in the rooms upstairs, long windows lined the side that faced the lake, interrupted by French doors that opened onto a deck.
“Wow,” I whispered.
Niklas brushed my hair off my neck and kissed me below my ear.
“You like it?”
I nodded. “A lot.”
Niklas slipped his arm around my waist and drew me in closer. The pull between us grew stronger.
“Last night in the hotel room, I couldn’t stop thinking about having you, right here with me,” he said.
His voice was rough, and my muscles tensed in anticipation. I knew where this was leading, and after the scene at the airport and our quiet ride to the house, I wanted it badly. I needed him to hold me and touch me, the connection of his body against mine. I turned around to face him. I found the hem of his shirt and slipped my hands underneath, onto his hot skin.
“What are we doing here?” I asked. “Or do you want me to guess?”
He groaned and brought his hands to my shoulders, pressing on my arms and stroking up and down, as if trying to contain some of the energy building between them.
I brought my hands around to his stomach and slipped them down under the waistband of his jeans. I wasn’t sure if it was the coffee taking effect or simply my reaction to Niklas, but all traces of exhaustion had disappeared. My body hummed with the awareness of his. I fumbled with the buckle of his belt until it came loose.
