Northern Fires (9 page)

“No.” She really couldn’t. Wow, she was feeling so relaxed. The sun, the lap of the water, the drone of insects, the lull of gentle laughter, her tummy was full… She could hardly keep her eyes open.

Sven reached over and smoothed his hand over her head, his touch light. “It’s okay if you want to nap. I wanted to sketch anyway.”

It was a little disconcerting how easily he seemed to read her—but she’d think about it later. Now she really did just want to stretch out and close her eyes. “You really don’t care? It seems sort of insulting on a date.” She was only kind of kidding.

“I think we’re both past all the rules, don’t you? And I promise not to tell if you don’t.”

“Deal.”

She stretched out on her back, angling her left arm over her eyes. The sun warmed her. She sank into a drowsy state, not quite asleep. She was too aware of her surroundings to truly slumber; she drifted into that place where she heard the rustle of paper, the rhythmic water against the shore, but she wasn’t quite conscious. It was a dreamlike state where reality took on different forms, lines blurred and situations shifted fluidly without rhyme or reason. And there was always the sense of Sven’s presence, as if he were standing sentinel, keeping a watchful eye on her behalf.

His touch, as light as a butterfly, fluttered over her arm, rousing her. She opened her eyes, her lids heavy. He was stretched beside her, propped on one arm, his blue eyes smiling at her. Instinctively, she smiled back.

He leaned forward and pressed small, tender kisses against her hairline. Lazily she reached up and linked her arm around his neck, inviting his lips to find hers. The dreamy thought floated through her mind that this must be what Sleeping Beauty had felt like when she finally awoke.

One kiss turned into many. She felt lush, brimming with the desire Sven stirred in her. He stroked her shoulder, her arm, the curve of her hip, her thigh where her dress had ridden up, each touch giving more than it took.

Meanwhile, she explored the breadth of his muscled shoulder, the ridges of his arms, the expanse of his back. It was unhurried, languid…delicious.

She’d always been uptight, unsure of herself, and she’d counted on alcohol to loosen her up, to give her an edge of bravado, to make her sexier. But it was amazing how relaxed she was now, how sure she was of her own sensuality with his hand on her thigh, and how satisfying it was to kiss, to touch and be touched, all stone-cold sober. The chemistry between them was more potent than any drink she’d ever downed.

Pulling him on top of her, she ran her fingers through his hair and welcomed his weight against her, the press of his obvious arousal between her thighs.

She tugged his shirt free of his jeans and up. He stopped kissing her long enough to tug it over his head and toss it aside. Oh. My. God. She pushed at him and he looked startled. She realized he was confused and thought she was rejecting him, asking him to stop.

“I just want to look at you,” she said, not bothering to mask the husky awe in her voice. He sat back some, smiling, and Juliette knew precisely what she wanted. A boldness she didn’t know she possessed sober rose within her. “All of you.”

He stood, like a Norse god—big, blond and stunningly beautiful. While he unbuckled his belt, she reached for the hem of her dress, tugging it up and off, leaving only her bra and panties. The breeze and sun kissed her thighs, her belly and the tops of her breasts while his gaze scorched along the same path.

She leaned back on her elbows and looked up at him, the expression in his eyes gratifying, the smile on his face arousing. She was no innocent. She’d done things…slept with men…made some bad decisions… And been lucky there hadn’t been more serious repercussions from her poor, or total lack of, judgment when she was drunk, none of which she was proud of. However, she realized in that moment of intense arousal that hovered between them like the dragonfly skimming over the water’s surface, her sexuality was a healthy part of a sober her.

Sven bent down, unlacing his boots. Boots and socks gone, he unzipped his jeans, slid them down his hips and thighs, and stepped out of them. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of his boxer briefs and pulled them off in one smooth motion and step. He straightened, standing tall and proud and Juliette felt nearly dizzy from the rush he evoked inside her.

A cerulean sky framed his sun-kissed gold hair and broad, heavily muscled shoulders. He was a man who worked hard for a living. Darker blond hair furred his chest and arrowed down over a taut belly. His penis jutted from a thatch of light brown hair, while his scrotum hung heavy between his thighs. A thrill of anticipation and excitement, mixed with a twinge of trepidation, coursed through her. Maybe it had been the dream, perhaps it was the water and sky and trees, but for one crazy moment she felt as if he was her Viking warrior come to claim her as his own.

She silently laughed at herself. She could come up with this fanciful stuff and she wasn’t even drinking.

She had no idea if it had been seconds, minutes or hours—time seemed to have lost its continuum—but Sven finally broke the silence. “You are exquisite.”

She wasn’t used to comments like that. It left her at a loss, so she simply laid back and opened her arms in supplication.

He came to her. He kissed her neck, the juncture where her neck met her shoulder, the curve of her arm, the bare skin between her bra and panties. The rasp of his faint beard was a delicious scrape against her.

She reached between them, tangling her fingers in the hair on his chest, fingering the points of his nipples, finding her way down his big body until her hand encountered the rigid length of his cock. He was warm, veined satin in her hand, against her fingers. He trembled beneath her touch and she felt both powerful and humble that she was here with this man at this moment in time.

He slid her bra straps down her shoulders and paid homage to her breasts, licking each crowning peak as if he’d been bestowed a treasure. She felt the restraint in his big body.

He skimmed her hip with his hand, touching her through the thin material. She arched her hips, seeking, wanting more.

It was a little awkward, though not uncomfortable as he finished taking off her bra and panties, but then she was gloriously naked beneath the sky and his gaze.

Juliette got the impression Sven felt awkward when he reached into his jeans and pulled out a condom. Far from awkward or embarrassed, she appreciated his forethought. Once she’d tested clean and thanked the powers that be, she’d vowed never to have unprotected sex again. She reached into the slitted pocket of her dress and pulled out her own condom to show him. He smiled as she tossed it aside. She was eager, suddenly impatient to have him inside her.

Condom-sheathed, he hesitated. “Tell me if I’m going too fast,” he said, “or you’re uncomfortable or…”

She reached for him, opening her legs, inviting him, urging him. “Sven, just…please…”

He nudged between her thighs and she gasped as he entered her. It had been a long time. She was tight and he was large, but bit by bit he nudged and she stretched, welcoming him.

He rested inside her, giving both of them time to adjust to one another. And then he started a slow, long, in-and-almost-out rhythm. He shifted, pulling her legs around his waist, moving faster, driving harder, taking her higher and higher until it felt as if she were soaring, carried by the joining of his body with hers, the celebration of flesh against flesh, spirit with spirit until she lost herself somewhere in the blue sky and the orgasm that rocked through her as she’d never been rocked before.

9

J
ULIETTE
STRETCHED
,
surprisingly unselfconscious in her nakedness given how prickly she could be at other times.

“Are you warm enough?” Sven asked. The breeze blowing in off the lake had grown stronger.

“I’m just right. That was stupendously good.” She reached over and lightly touched his hair.

He didn’t have to ask if he’d satisfied her because it was written all over her face, but it was good to hear “stupendously good” nonetheless.

“I concur. I am a very happy guy right now.” He caught her hand up in his and pressed a kiss to her wrist. He felt a sense of freedom, hedonism, here on the blanket with her, soaking up the sun. “It’s nice lying in the sun naked. I can’t say that I’ve ever done this before, but I like it. It could be habit forming.” Damn, he was talking to a woman with an addiction. What a stupid thing to say. He pushed up on one elbow. “Juliette, I didn’t think… I mean…crap…talk about ruining a moment with my foot in my mouth.”

She turned her head on the sheet, looking at him, laughing. “Sven, it’s okay. I’m actually flattered you think naked sex with me in the sun could be habit forming. At least I think you meant with me.”

He wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else. He traced the bottom line of her breast with his fingertip. “Of course I meant you.”

“I told you I’m an alcoholic. The last thing I want is for people to tiptoe around me or act all freaked out about it. That’s one reason I just keep quiet.”

He wrapped on arm around her and pulled her to him, fitting her against him. “Okay, then. I’m not going to tiptoe around it or you. Tell me about it. I’ve done some research online.”

She looked surprised. “You looked it up?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I? I wanted to know and I realized I didn’t have any facts. So, I know about alcoholism, the disease, the treatments, but I don’t know your story.”

She stroked her fingers over his forearm, which was resting against her belly, not looking at him. “My parents are both alcoholics.” A portion of his heart sank, his mother’s concerns still fresh in his mind. They were alcoholics and so was she. Hereditary. “My mother’s a crying drunk and my dad’s a mean drunk who likes to throw things and hit people.” She smoothed her thumb against his skin. “I learned early to make myself scarce.” She paused and looked him dead in the eye. “I started drinking when I was fourteen. I just didn’t get it. All I knew was that I hated my life and when I drank, I got to be someone else. I didn’t cry like my mom and I didn’t raise Cain like my dad, so I didn’t think I had a problem.”

He
hurt
inside for her. “You got any brothers or sisters?”

“Nope. Just me.”

“Your folks are still alive, right?”

“Oh, yeah. I got in touch with them a couple of times when I was going through my twelve steps.” He knew about the 12-step program at Alcoholics Anonymous from his research. “All I can tell you is you can’t save someone else if they don’t want to be saved. And even then, they have to do it themselves.”

“You still in touch with them?”

“No. I can’t deal with their alcoholism and they can’t deal with my sobriety. The only thing a drunk hates more than himself is a sober drunk. I think it’s that whole lowest-common-denominator thing.”

“You lie down with dogs, expect to get up with fleas?”

“That’s close. And it sounds as if you’re not in danger of catching any fleas in clan Sorenson. Merrilee was telling me about your mom being so excited about her granddaughter.”

He was almost embarrassed to admit it in light of her family history. “Yeah, my folks are great. They have their moments, but overall, they’re very tolerant. My sister-in-law, Darnita, is African-American and she was pretty nervous about how my folks would feel about the race thing, but Mom and Pops have loved her from day one.”

And he had to admit he resented the hell out of his mother’s attitude about Juliette’s disease. Nor had Marge been too damn happy about Juliette being married twice. But once they met, once his mom had actually seen her and talked to her, everything would be okay.

“That’s good. I’m sure it just works better when everyone gets along.”

“You’ll meet them. Mom and Pops that is. They’re coming to the play.”

“Merrilee mentioned that.”

The very fact that she was so non-committal spoke volumes. Most women would be telling him how much they were looking forward to meeting his parents. But then again, Juliette wasn’t most women and that was for dead-ass certain.

“So,” he said. “Tell me about flying, about why you love the sky so much.” Every instinct inside him said it was all linked to her childhood.

“What? We sleep together once and you feel like you can ask me twenty questions?”

“Something like that. And just think. This is only question number two…well, maybe three. And you were just about to tell me about flying.”

She sighed. “You don’t give up do you?”

He was discovering a newfound determination he’d never needed before. “Not on the things that are important to me.”

A pause stretched between them as his words settled in the space, the wind rustling the grass around them. He’d just told her she was important to him. Finally, she spoke.

“When I was really little I’d leave the house and climb the tree in our yard to get away. I’d sit up there in the leaves and hide. That worked for a while, but then my folks figured out where to find me. I’d always think, if I could just be a little farther up, up there in the sky, they couldn’t find me. They couldn’t get to me up there.”

He hoped he never met her dad…or her mom. He could just see her as a kid, scared, crying, being dragged out of her tree. It made him want to hurt someone or break something.

He tightened his arm around her. She wrapped her hand about his arm and he felt as if she was taking solace in him. He hoped she was. “Then one day old man Haddrick who lived next to us went into the crop-dusting business. He busted me one day after a month of me sneaking into the cockpit of his plane. But he was nice about it. Instead of sending me home, he took me up and it was a done deal. I loved flying and the sky. It was as wonderful, even more than I’d dreamed it would be. After that, old man Haddrick would take me up with him every time he had a job. My folks never figured it out.”

“Is that when you knew you wanted to fly?”

“No. I was just a kid who knew she liked being up in the sky. Then old man Haddrick had a stroke. His daughter moved him in with her, sold his plane and that was that.”

“Damn.”

“I felt bad for him, but to tell you the truth, I felt worse for me.”

Her level of honesty surprised him. It must’ve shown on his face.

She shrugged. “I was a kid used to looking out for myself. I wasn’t real empathetic. I dropped out of high school and got married to get out of the house. I figured out pretty early on that was a mistake and at least went back and got my GED and then I got a divorce. It never occurred to me I could actually fly the plane, so I decided I wanted the next best thing and got a flight attendant job. I married again in the middle there and figured out that was a big mistake, too. Derrick and I met in a bar and we only got along when we were both drinking. The problem was we both had to sober up somewhat every day to go to work. He was an airline mechanic. We split. A friend once asked me if I thought we’d have stayed married if we’d both gotten sober. Heck, no, we’d have never gotten married if we’d both been sober long enough.”

She slid her finger down his chest. “And that’s a pretty frightening bedtime story, isn’t it?”

“I don’t frighten easily.”

“Apparently not.”

He hated the shadows that appeared in her eyes when she talked about her past. He was sorry he asked. Not that he couldn’t handle it, but he didn’t want her to have to go through it all over again.

And he knew exactly how to dissipate those shadows. “Not to change the subject, but to change the subject…”

That earned him the smile he’d hoped for. “Yes?”

“I see that you came prepared, as well.” He nodded to the cellophane-wrapped condom she’d tossed aside earlier.

“I did.”

“Well, I believe a perfectly good condom is a terrible thing to waste and yours has an expiration date on it.”

“It does? I don’t know how I missed that.”

“I have no idea, but it’s clearly set to expire in an hour.”

“Really?”

“Honest to Pete.”

“Well, what do you think we should do about that?”

“I think—” he dragged his lips over her breast to capture her nipple in his mouth and sucked until she gasped and he released her “—you should…” He caught her waist in his hands and rolled to his back, pulling her on top of him. Her legs naturally braced on either side of him. “Climb on top and let me enjoy the view.”

Juliette leaned forward, sliding her already-wet sex along his bare thigh. She kissed the column of his neck, nipping little kisses that darted through him like desire-laden arrows that went straight to his dick. Her breasts rubbed against his chest, her nipples teasing him, taunting him to touch them, play with them, make love to them. He caught them between his forefingers and thumbs. Her low, soft moan vibrated against his skin.

When he couldn’t stand it anymore, when the need to be inside her was more than he could take, he rolled on the condom. A wicked little smile playing about her lips, she eased down onto him…and then back up. Again and again and again until he thought he would lose his mind with the need to feel her silk channel all the way around him.

“Juliette…baby…please…”

“Patience.”

Just when he thought he had her rhythm, she plunged down, taking him all the way inside her. “Ahhhh.”

Head thrown back, bracing her hands on his thighs, she ground down and around on him. But it wasn’t until he felt her muscles tighten around him, squeezing him and her body convulse with pleasure that he allowed himself the ecstasy of coming…and coming…and coming.

* * *

J
ULIETTE
WALKED
BESIDE
Sven, her hand in his. He was a touchy-feely kind of guy and she was finding that she liked it quite a bit. She was finding that she liked everything about him more than quite a bit. She’d decided to open herself up to experiences, but it was all happening at light speed. Adopting Baby, taking their relationship—whatever it was, and she was more than happy to leave it undefined—to the next stage.

The sun had sunk below the horizon on their way back, a waxing moon rising but still low and heavy in the sky. It had to be approaching 11:00 p.m. They’d spent about nine hours together…and she’d enjoyed every minute of it.

“I had a lovely date with you, Sven Sorenson.”

“So did I.” He brushed his fingertips against her temple. “It doesn’t have to end now. You don’t have to go.”

She was tempted, ever so tempted. But she needed time to think, to digest and process. She needed time to orient herself around all that had happened today. Her and him. Baby.

“I need to go home.” As much as she’d enjoyed herself and his company, she really needed to be in her own space and alone.

“I understand.”

She wanted to make sure he did. “It’s not—”

“I know.” He laughed. “It’s not personal.” He put his hands in his pockets and simply looked at her and she realized it had been kind of an inane thing to say. Before, the first time she’d said it to him, it hadn’t been personal. But now…

“Okay, well, I guess there’s no way it’s not personal at this point, huh?”

He nodded. “That’s pretty much the way I see it.”

Juliette hesitated and then closed the space between them. She wrapped her arms around Sven’s waist and felt a rush of relief when he put his arms around her in return. She leaned into him, resting her cheek against his chest. His heartbeat thumped strong and steady beneath her face. She wanted to make sure he understood. She didn’t want to hurt him, so if that meant leaving herself a little vulnerable, so be it. “Sven, it’s not because I haven’t had a good time. I’ve had such a good time. I’m not sure when I’ve ever enjoyed myself so much.” If it sounded silly to him, then it sounded silly to him but she decided to just throw it out there. “I want to lie in my bed and savor it. I just want to hug the day to me and go back through it. Does that make any sense?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it does. I guess I’ll lie in my bed and savor it, too.” He yawned. “Or I might go to sleep. Woman, I’m tired. You wore me out.”

“Ha. Blame it on me. You wore yourself out.” She plunged forward. Now that she was talking, she couldn’t seem to shut up. “And I need to think…well, about everything.”

“I’m not so sure I get that. Sometimes people overthink. Sometimes you just have to
be
and go with the flow.”

Surrender. Serenity. Accepting the things you couldn’t change, having the courage to change the things you could and the wisdom of knowing the difference. It was the flow and intellectually it made sense, but sometimes it was hard to walk that path. And she still needed her space tonight.

“I hear you. Sometimes it’s hard to do that.”