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He shifts beneath me, reaching for his phone and placing it in the center of his chest near my hand. I sit up, crossing my legs beneath me, and I don’t miss the way his gaze drops to check out my nakedness on full display.
Grinning, I pull the sheet over my lower body. “Later. First, I want to see the type of house you love.”
“That seems like a fair deal.”
He swipes his thumb across his phone, and when he hands it to me, there are a series of computer-generated drawings. They show a sprawling low building from different angles. White walls, angled to fit into the landscape, butt up to a rough natural-stone entry with a series of wooden platforms leading up to it. I see the design elements of the Nordic House, but they are used in a very different way.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, slowly scrolling through the photos. “And you designed this?”
He laughs. “Aye. You know, you probably shouldn’t look so surprised.”
“Sorry. It’s just you only talked about those ordinary houses. This is not a little box and it’s definitely not ordinary. It’s magnificent.”
“Thank you,” he says, reaching across to take his phone from my fingers and placing it back on the bedside table.
Suddenly he turns, throwing off the sheet and leaving me open to him. “Now, that is magnificent.”
I laugh as he pulls me down on top of him.
Damn, I’m going to miss Rory when he leaves tomorrow. But at least I can have hope that I’ll see him again.
Chapter thirteen
Rory
Monday
Idon’t want to move. And this time, it’s not because I don’t want to set off another wave of water sloshing underneath me. But because I don’t want to let go of Freya. Her naked body is curled around mine. A hand rests in the center of my chest. Her head pillowed on my shoulder. I glance down, and above the white sheet, I can see her breasts squished against my chest wall, one pert dusky nipple just visible, the other hidden. I want to rub my thumb over it, but she’s sleeping peacefully, so I restrain myself.
I don’t remember the last time I smiled just for the heck of it—just because a pretty Icelandic girl is in my bed.
She’s feisty and adventurous in the bedroom. The half-English, half-Icelandic words coming from her mouth last night, like the one before, sounded fucking hot. Our bodies coming together this weekend was not with the awkwardness of first-time lovers but with the innate knowledge of exactly what buttons to push to eke out maximum pleasure. We seem to instinctively fit like we’d lived an earlier life together, maybe back in the times of Vikings. The thought stirs a smile.
I read in one of the museums that Freyja in Norse mythology is the goddess of love, beauty, and sex. And the modern version tucked into my arms is the embodiment of all three. The Norse gods would be proud of Freya’s efforts to live up to her name.
She’s fucking amazing, and based on our conversation last night, this weekend cannot be the end of us.
Freya stirs in my arms, and the slight movement sets off a ripple beneath our bodies. For once, the gentle rocking doesn’t have me cursing the fucking waterbed. Instead, my fingers dance up and down her spine.
“Mmm, that feels good,” she murmurs in her husky morning voice. It’s sexy as hell, and I want to hear more.
“How are you this morning? Sore? Hungry?” I ask, bringing my other hand across to brush the curtain of gold back off her face.
She blinks several times before green eyes lock on mine like magnets. “Hungry. Definitely hungry. But not for food.”
A grin nearly splits my cheeks apart. That’s my girl, insatiable. But then the thought hits me. Is she really my girl? We haven’t made definite plans yet. My mouth twists back into a straight line at the thought that this may be all we have, unless I come up with a plan to meet up again.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, lifting her head to look at me more closely.
I force a smile back in place. “Nothing. I’m just trying to work out how best to feed your hunger.”
The wrinkle between her brows smooths, though I can tell she’s not completely convinced. “I can think of a few ways.”
My mouth ticks up at the corners more naturally this time. “I bet you can, but first let me try”—my hand dives under the sheet, tilting her hips back and reaching between her thighs—“this.”
***
Reluctantly, I flip my phone over to check the time. It’s bad news, and I slam it face down on the table with a bang. We need to leave for the airport. Freya has offered to drive me, and any additional time with her is a bonus, so I agreed.
