“Good.”
My gaze wandered to the table in the adjoining dining room cluttered with ceramics, the stack of art books in the corner near framed Matisse, Picasso, and Hopper posters, and the collection of tiny frogs she’d shaped from clay lined up like soldiers on the low bookshelf she’d painted bright blue. The apartment color palette of white and blues was an ode to her Swedish heritage, but the chaotic detritus of art supplies, knickknacks, paperbacks, and used coffee cups was all Freya.
“You didn’t have to come all the way out here,” she said, wrapping her long fingers around my wrist.
“I wanted to be sure you’re okay.” I stared at her hand for a moment, adding, “And I have questions.”
Freya sighed theatrically as she sat up. “I know you do. But before you ask…can I just tell you, this isn’t a cry for help. This is me taking control, helping someone in need, and?—”
“And capitalizing on it.”
She furrowed her brow indignantly. “Don’t you dare judge me.”
I held my hands up and inclined my head. “I’m sorry. That was…I’m sorry.”
“Oh, Viggo. I don’t want you to take care of me forever. I can’t always be tied to you, or you to me.”
“Why him?”
“Dexter? Why not him? He’s a nice man with a good background, and he wants to be a parent.” Freya’s eyes welled as she sucked in a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about Anni all the time, and I think she’d?—”
“Stop. Let’s not do this.” I shook my head and switched to English. “Are you hungry? I’ll get you something to eat.”
She nodded. “Okay. Maybe tuna fish?”
She’s fine.
I left my phone on my nightstand and headed for the bathroom, anxious to wash the day away. I was glad tomorrow was Saturday. It had been a long, exhausting week and I was looking forward to starting a new project in my workshop and maybe going fishing.
I lathered soap as my mind wandered to childhood fishing trips. We’d spend hours on Lake Mälaren in summertime, fishing for perch and pike. I never got tired of it. The simple joy ofdrifting on the water, pole in hand with my dad, Lars, and sometimes Anni and?—
No. Don’t go there.
It had been good to be with Freya today, listening to her chatter about baby books she’d purchased, the soda water that made her burp, and her sudden craving for pretzels. I wished she’d confided in me before she’d made her decision—especially if it had anything to do with Anni. But it was done.
And it was pointless to tell her that I was struggling with the fact that I wouldn’t be part of her son or daughter’s life. There’d be no outings at the park, no fishing excursions, no lessons on how to carve and build toy boats and airplanes. The thought of missing out on something so precious made me sad.
Too sad.
I closed my eyes under the warm spray, hoping to clear my mind.It isn’t my business, I reminded myself for the umpteenth time. Freya had made her choice, and she was happy with it. So was Dexter.
He was nervous, too. I’d pegged Dexter to be cool under pressure, but he’d panicked at the idea of Freya in distress. It was good that he was concerned…that he cared. But I liked his smile better. It was cocky with a hint of mischief.
And that mouth…
My dick twitched on cue as my thoughts took a sudden X-rated turn.
Sudden and pornographic.
Dexter on his knees, his lips around my dick, gaze trained on me…waiting for permission. Yes, it was an outrageous fantasy, but it was a good one. A beautiful, godlike man bobbing his head, his nails raking my upper thighs as he sucked and licked me.
I braced a hand on the tile and stroked my cock in earnest, giving in to the illusion till it seemed so real I could picture him right here, right now.
Please. Please give it to me.
My breath hitched and my chest heaved as cum spurted over my fist, then washed away.
I felt a twinge of shame afterward. Handsome or not, it was in bad taste to have lustful thoughts for your friend’s baby daddy. Even through surrogacy. I needed to get out of town and get laid properly. The sooner the better.
