The Viking Wants Forever (31 page)

“It won’t break?” she asked, her voice lilting with uncertainty.

Eirik shook his head. “I made sure it would support two people.”

“For entertaining the ladies?”

“Only you,” he said with a grin, as if any woman could compare with her.

Her brown eyes widened appreciably as if charmed by his confession, and then she chuckled. “You’re smooth...real smooth,” she conceded, waggling a finger at him. Eyes twinkling, she sat back, giving him a glimpse of the book in her hand:
The Mighty Kings of Norway
.

“Is your next hero a king?”

“More like villain. Cisco says we should up the ante.” Eirik noted the excitement in her voice. “He thinks we should pit Eirik against someone formidable but off the battlefield.” He also noticed she held her co-collaborator’s opinion in high regard. Was their partnership only professional? Had he taken too much time to find her? Had she given her heart to someone else? She’d said there was no one, but hadn’t another woman played him false?

“King Haakon was a manipulating pig. So he’s perfect,” she crowed.

“Excuse me, who did you say?” While struggling with the fervent desire to bash someone’s head in, he’d temporarily blocked her out.

“King Haakon.” She placed the book between them. “Hated by his people, they refused to fight for him against an invasion by
Olaf Tryggvason
. With no support, and Olaf on his trail, Haakon hid in a pig sty with his slave, Tormod Kark. While in hiding, Tormod slit his throat.”

“Just desserts,” Eirik whispered, barely glancing at the excerpt. He’d purposely bought the book several months ago to learn his half-brother’s fate. Remembering his personal library, he asked, “If you ever need to do any research on the era, I have a few books you might be interested in.”

“If they’re anything like that museum in there,” she jabbed her thumb at the sliding doors, “then yes, I’m
very
interested.”

Exhilarated he’d given her another reason to return, Eirik quickly disentangled himself from the hammock. In quick order, he helped her to her feet as well.

“It’s not much,” he warned, when they stood in front of the pocket doors leading to his bedroom, “my collection is nowhere close to a library.”

With her close on his heels, he pushed back the bedroom doors.

Reese, mouth agape, padded into the room. She stopped briefly to examine one of the numerous piles of books stacked at the foot of his bed. “It’s not much,” she mocked, her fingers trailing over a worn cover. “It’s safe to say you have more than a passing curiosity for Viking history.” Hands on her hips, she eyed the four floor-to-ceiling bookcases framing his bed. Although he was happy she was impressed with his book collection, all Eirik could think about was her proximity to his bed.

Cock hardening, Eirik thrust his hands in his pockets.

“I—I’m looking for information on my family, particularly my...one of my ancestors, Thoren Sigurdsson,” he said softly. Even if Haakon had received his comeuppance, he still could’ve harmed his family for not marrying Ivar’s daughter. Even now he was waiting on a genealogist to return Bo’s inquiry.  

She plucked a book from the shelf. “I guess I will be indebted to you until the day I die.”

“I’d like that,” he instantly replied.

Her gaze swiveled to his, and her eyes held his for a hot instant. “At least you’re consistent,” she murmured as she re-shelved the book, breaking the moment between them.

He walked toward her, continued to dog her steps when he said, “I would not be where I am today without being relentless in everything I pursue.”

She swiveled around and he zeroed in on the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Remembering her chocolate-dipped nipples, and with the thought of their sweet taste etched in his memory, he stepped even closer. So close, her felt her warm breathy exhale against his chest.

“Y—you’re in my personal space,” she gushed.

Noting she didn’t out right reject him he spoke softly, “I want to be closer.”

The blare of a car horn startled them both.

T
alking about bad timing!
Reese trekked back through Eirik’s apartment to the terrace.

“Hey, Square Peg!” Allen called up to her. Riding shotgun, he was hanging out the passenger side window of Cisco’s SUV. His gaze suddenly narrowed, and she knew Eirik stood behind her.

Before things turned ugly, Allen didn’t have a filter, she said, “I’ll be right down, guys.”

Reese turned around and crashed into a wall of flesh. Her eyes traveled up and up, her mouth watering over the way his t-shirt hugged his body. She needed to put some distance between them or she’d end up doing something extremely slutty.

“I would have taken you home.”

“They were going crazy wondering where I was, and...and...they twisted my arm.”
Why do I feel so guilty about leaving him?

Hands in his pockets, he stepped back. “The library is always open to you.”

Celeste blinked up at him. Why didn’t he stop her from leaving? She inwardly raged. The bigger question, why did she want him to? They were strangers and lest she forget, he kidnapped her. 

“It’s been awesome,” she said with very little enthusiasm. Knowing the way downstairs, she didn’t wait for a personal escort. He still provided one, shadowing her the entire way.

Watching her through the side mirror, Allen jumped out of the SUV when they rounded the corner.

“Maybe I’ll come by next week,” she remarked as a way of good-bye, and already looking forward to the encounter with anticipation.

His glance turned assessing, but when he spoke he offered no challenge. He said only, deep and hushed, “I’ll be here.”

“What time is good for you?”

His shoulder lifted in the minutest shrug, but his eyes were grave. “I’ll be here.”

Unable to drag this out any longer, Reese moved to get into the SUV.  She barely took a step. His touch, at the back of neck, froze her in her tracks.

“I need a kiss to get me through until then.”

“Hey, buddy,” Allen protested. Reese gave him the hand, wanting this kiss as much as the air filtering through her lungs, and he disappeared inside the truck.

“After while crocodile,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with a suffocated intensity.

His grin was the last thing Reese saw before she closed her eyes. He ate at her mouth as if craving her taste. Tightening his grip, he pulled her into him. Reese moaned. Rock hard and enormous against her belly, his unyielding passion was feverishly arousing. She felt a delirious heat burn through her body. She clung to him, wanting what he wanted.

“I’ll be here,” he breathed, as his mouth lifted from hers.

“You better,” Reese softly reproved. “You do not want to be on my bad side.”

“I’ve experienced your bad side once and I swore to never go down that road again.” He spun her around and gave her a tiny nudge.

“Who’s down for Redberry froyo?” Allen proposed as she climbed into the front seat.

Reese adored Redberry. She maxed out her customer rewards card every thirty days. But right now frozen yogurt didn’t sound the least bit appealing. “Can you guys just drop me off at home? I think I’m coming down with an epic headache.”

Before they could inundate her with 1,001 questions, she pulled the seat handle, leaned back and closed her eyes.

* * * * *

E
ither the migraine or her dream jostled her awake. Reese couldn’t quite pinpoint the culprit. All she knew she was up at one o’clock in the morning, and it had everything to do with Eirik Sigurdsson. After he’d kissed her, her head started to spin, the line between reality and fiction blurred, bombarding her with memories she only thought were dreams. Head throbbing, Reese flung her legs over the side of the bed. Neither aspirin nor a doctor could rectify her current condition.

Bo’s eyes lit up when she walked into the brewery thirty minutes later.

“Reese, you’re back!” Grinning from ear to ear, he set down four pilsner glasses on a nearby tabletop. 

Reese surveyed the milling array of bar patrons, in an attempt to discern a blond giant. No luck. The late night crush was a stark contrast to the lunch crowd. “Where’s Eirik?” she asked giving up.

“He’s in the back playing darts with a few of the customers. I’ll go get —”

Reese walked off before he could finish. Like a sheikh with his harem, she found Eirik surrounded by a bevy of female fans. Sycophants, they hung on his every word, held their breath with each throw of the dart. Reese eyeballed one particular redhead who couldn’t keep her hands to herself. Her manicured hands ran over his biceps, his taut torso. She could barely stomach it, but when they traveled lower, she lost it.

“Eirik Sigurdsson,” she barked. “I have a bone to pick with you.”

He glanced over his shoulder and an instant smile creased his tanned cheeks. “Reese, you’re back,” he parroted Bo. Without missing a beat, he released the dart in his hand, hitting the bullseye.

“You kissed me and now I’m having migraines and the oddest—”

“Sounds like my wife,” a loaf at a nearby tabletop cut her off, and a titter rippled among the surrounding tables.

“You’re a liar, Viking.”

Eirik turned around slowly. He stood very still for a moment, his pale gaze traveling over. “What did you call me?” he finally said.

“A liar. Thoren Sigurdsson isn’t an ancestor. He’s your brother.” Rocked by another neural explosion, Reese clutched her head.

His personal peanut gallery and the surrounding tabletops looked rightly confused, someone even suggested they call 911. Reese couldn’t blame them. Her behavior had weirdo spray painted in capital letters all over it.

Obviously, Eirik didn’t mind crazy. Seemed to like it up close and personal because he stalked over, cupped her chin in the curve of his fingers, gently forcing her head back. And it suddenly seemed like she’d been waiting eons for the warmth of his kiss.

He brushed a butterfly kiss over her mouth.

“Your mother’s name is Brita,” she breathed.

Exerting the smallest pressure, he advanced deeper, parting her lips.

“You fought Bjarni for me and won,” she said, coming up for air. Head swimming with neural overload, she held onto his hands.

His tongue twined with hers, then penetrated more deeply, demanding more, promising more.

“I was your slave but you set me free.”

Reese didn’t protest when he picked her up, her legs immediately wrapping around his waist. Cheered on by his customers, Eirik proceeded to climb the stairs. With each step, a tremulous pulsing fluttered deep in the pit of her stomach—a fevered response she hadn’t felt in years and what she’d believed only happened in her dreams.

It took him less than five minutes to climb both flights of stairs, unlock his apartment door, and then carry her into the bedroom. She was quivering helplessly as he lowered her onto the bed. Settling between her legs, Reese was almost lost to him, but she needed answers. She slid her fingers into his hair, until her palms rested against his temples, and gently pushed.

“How did you get here?”

She might have arrested his attention, but his hands were quickly undoing her clothing when he replied, “Freyja took pity on me and sent me forward to your time.”

“
The
goddess of love took pity on you?” Reese asked. Not completely invested in her interrogation, she lifted her hips, and he removed her shorts.

“She appreciated my sacrifice ‘for my lady love’ and rewarded me.” He rolled his eyes as if making light of the situation. Reese knew better. Gods and goddesses rarely did anything lightly.

“What does she want?”

“Nothing. I already made my sacrifice.”

“What did you do?” Reese searched his face, endeavoring to find answers, but what he said next she least expected.

“When you disappeared, I held out hope, thinking you would return, and refused to leave. I froze to death.”

Biting her bottom lip, Reese tried to repress the wetness welling in her eyes. She failed.

Noticing, he shifted her in his arms. “No tears, only happiness,” he said, settling in beside her. He tried to soothe her with soft caresses, but nothing helped.

“You keep this up and you’ll drown me. And between you and me, I’ve run all out of goddesses.” His smile could banish the gloom from the world, she thought.

“You...better have,” she warned in a hiccupy breath.

He propped his head in his hand. The intensity in his pale gaze, a direct contrast to his casual bearing. “Do I detect a little jealousy?” he asked.

“Try a ton.” She ruefully smiled. “That must be why I love you.”

“Say it again. Say you love me.” A tremor ran through his voice, and she briefly wondered if her answer hinged on his next breath.

“I love you,” she said quietly.

With a low growl, he rolled with her across the bed.

“Now it’s your turn.”

“Was there ever a doubt? I died because of you, was resurrected, and then searched for you for two long years, never giving up.”

Reese peeked up at him. “Saying it won’t hurt.”

Smiling, he leaned down and kissed her lightly on the cheek and earlobe, on the corner of her mouth. “I love you, and I always will.”

“Now show me.”

Reese held her arms up, so he could tug her blouse over her head. Naked, but warm from the heat pervading her senses, she watched him undress. He pulled his t-shirt over his head and moved to throw it over his shoulder. She pulled it from him and inhaled. His scent was heavenly.

“I’m keeping this,” she declared.

“You might as well. You have everything else.”

He rolled her beneath him. Flesh against flesh, bodies fitting together as if made for each other.

“What do you want from me?” It was only fair she give him something in return.

“I want this.” He bent his head and licked her breast.

“It’s yours,” she whispered as a shiver skipped down her spine.

His hand settled between her thighs. “I want this as well.”

“Yours,” she said readily, her thighs splaying wide.

He titled his head and his expression turned suddenly serious. His gaze direct, pierced her soul.