Ulrik
Her eyes darted to me, doubt and confusion veiling the darkness of her irises. The words had flown out of my lips before I could hold them back. "Don't say things like that," she said with authority. "Not when your treatment of me has been so unexceptional."
Would her bluntness ever stop getting to me like it did? It was refreshing to be around her, to witness her disarming honesty. She didn't hesitate to voice her true opinion, to admit things others would never voice, to open her thoughts to me. Her strong-mindedness was commendable, and it never failed to reach me hard. She was the kind of person who gave herself entirely, who didn't hold back, who didn't shy away from what she wanted. This made her fearless in my eyes, more courageous than so many others.
If I claimed her—or rather, if I won her over—she'd be a wild ride from start to finish. And this was a ride I was eager to experience, despite knowing better.
She cleared her throat, making me realize I'd done nothing but stare at her for a few seconds, so I shook myself out of my thoughts.
Part of me despised the fact that my actions might have made a dent in her confidence and self-worth. This woman ought to know how unbelievably alluring and splendid she was.
"The way I acted in New York isn't reflective of my appreciation of you," I impulsively declared. My words unsettled her for an instant, but she swiftly gathered herself.
"I'm a firm believer of actions over words, Mr. Westergaard. And your actions have been loud and clear."
The way she looked at me was defying, daring, even. The fire that flickered within her was as scorching as ever, its wild flames dancing right behind her eyes. I craved its burn like one might seek an adrenaline spike, like an addict needed their fix. I wanted to be burned by her intensity, to experience the heat of her temperament.
My feet brought me to her without the approval or command of my brain, my body weaker than my mind. With each step I took forward, she took one back. The confidence on her face was replaced by uncertainty again. She jumped slightly when she bumped into the low shelving units in the center of the room, and her eyes rushed to mine, trying to understand what I had in mind. Hell, I didn't even know myself...
Once I was inches away from her perfect shape and face, I bent forward slightly, which prompted her to lean back. Almost trembling, she looked up at me, her eyelashes fluttering with confusion, her plump lips parting to take in a quick gasp. Caged between me and the counter in her lower back, she didn't know what to do, where to go. But we both knew she wouldn't move one inch if she could. This was exactly where she belonged, where she wanted to be.
Her desire to oppose me and remain strong was still there, but, just like my intentions to stay away from her, it was battling with the intense attraction we'd had from the start.
"Miss Connelly, trust that if I were a less disciplined man, my actions would leave no doubt about my appreciation of you."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Her voice was breathy, and her skin was flushed. She was smart enough to know exactly what I meant, so I didn't bother replying.
Instead, I allowed my hand to reach for the curve of her hip, gliding softly over the thick fabric that covered it. I lowered to whisper the rest in her ear, as if it would make any of this acceptable; as if it was any better than admitting it with my full voice.
The scent of her invaded my nostrils, making me lose a little more of myself. It was both flowery and fruity, and my mind conjured the image of her rolling naked in orange blossoms, her olive skin looking so tanned against the white petals.
"I've been dreaming of you, love. Nearly every night since we've met. The things I do to you in those dreams...they are naughty, dirty, depraved..." My hand slid to her back, but the counter she was leaning on prevented me from caressing the roundness of her ass. So instead, I kept it flat on her back. "And if I weren't in control of my actions, I'd be doing all those things to you right now."
A few seconds passed, charged with lust and need, before she answered, "You're assuming I'd let you?"
The mere trembling of her voice was enough to tell me she would. She'd let me do all those things to her, and then would ask for more. I chuckled, wondering if she realized how obvious her desire for me was. "I think you would, kjære. I think you're dying to have me inside of you as much as I am dying to enter you."
"How presumptuous of you... You're so... You're so arrogant, it's repulsive," she let out, surely in an attempt to shield herself more than to offend me.
"Is it? Then why aren't you pushing me away, Mila?"
Her hands rose between us to settle on my chest. Before she could add any pressure to her touch, I caved in and pressed my mouth on the tender skin below her ear. She trembled against me, releasing a shaky breath. Eager to know if she tasted as good as she smelled, my tongue slipped between my lips to sample her skin. Her hands fisted the fabric of my shirt as the taste of her spread on my tongue. No orange blossom there, but her slightly salty savor was even better.
"Please..." she begged, the sweet agony in her voice making me so fucking hard it hurt.
"Please what? Please more? Please stop?"
"Stop... Please stop." Her hands between us finally pushed against me, as if she'd regained control of herself, breaking through a spell. "I don't want this," she insisted, wriggling against me to free herself.
The cracking in her voice acted like a cold shower on me, and I released her right away and took a step back. What the fuck was wrong with me? One second I was reminding myself that I had to stay away from her, and the next I was all over her, ready to fuck her on the furniture if she was willing.
My brows knitted as I looked down at her, wondering how we'd ended up in this situation. She was flushed and breathless, her hands shaking as she passed them through her hair. Once she'd gathered herself, she dared to meet my gaze.
"You told me you were fine with keeping things professional," she reminded me with murder in her eyes. It had been a lie, one I couldn't entertain any longer. As much as I wanted to keep things professional, I wasn't fine with it.
She pushed herself away from the shelves and walked back and forth a few times, doing her best to recompose herself. "I need to know how this will go, right now," she eventually said, looking at me again. "I'm here for work and only work. Were you genuine when you offered to let me borrow some pieces, or was it some kind of twisted trick to get me here?"
"I was genuine. Take whatever you want."
"Okay, good." She scanned the room full of artifacts and priceless antiques, and then turned to me again. "We're not—We're not going to fuck," she bluntly declared. "My work's too important to get tangled in some sort of...sex thing with you. I can't risk you changing your mind because things went south."
As a man of my word, I wouldn't change my mind, but if she needed that to keep the idea of me at bay, I wouldn't take it away from her. "That's fair," I said instead of correcting her.
"Also, you're kind of a dick, and I don't—I'm trying to stay away from assholes at the moment."
"Ouch... But also fair, I suppose."
"Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"The charming smirks and the mesmerizing eyes, and the...everything," she concluded after a moment, vaguely gesturing at all of me.
"You want me to...stop being me?"
"It would be very helpful."
She must have realized the absurdity of her request, because a nervous laugh came out of her. One of my own joined in, and after a moment, we were left with nothing but silence and awkward tension. She broke it first, proving once more that she was remarkably resilient and strong.
"I think I'll go to bed, actually," she spoke, taking another look around. "I'll start this in the morning. Do you have any advice? I don't know where to even begin."
I cleared my throat and did my best to sound as professional as she just had. "This wall is Denmark, this one's Sweden, then upstairs is Norway. That wall over there is anywhere else, Iceland, Greenland, Irak, Mediterranean Sea... And the ones about Haakon are in the gallery."
"Alright, I'll start with the gallery, then. Thank you." She hesitated for a moment, her eyes lifting to mine. "Hmm... Good night, then. I'll, uh, I suppose I'll see you in the morning."
"It's likely to happen, yes."
She nodded, still tense, and walked to the stairs after a few more seconds of hesitation. I remained where I stood as she climbed them, keeping my attention on her. She paused to look at the shelves of books behind the protective glass, and then passed the door that led to the gallery.
Once she was out of sight, I let out a long sigh and went to half-sit on the edge of the shelving unit I'd caged her against.
This was a clusterfuck of massive proportions. I'd believed myself able to behave for a week, but I'd already messed up after her first evening here. This woman robbed me of good sense and discipline. With her around, I turned into some primal being with no control whatsoever. And that wasn't something I was used to, nor something I enjoyed in the slightest. If I didn't manage to get a hold of myself, everything would spiral into an even bigger mess.
At this point, the best thing to do was to lock myself in my home office all day and do all I could to avoid her. It was the only way I could make sure nothing like this happened again. Staying away from temptation.
I remained in the room for a solid ten minutes, pondering on my actions, trying to figure out what the upcoming week would be like. Maybe I'd find a way to escape this house for a few days, just to make sure there was enough distance between us.
But even halfway around the world, she'd still invade my damned dreams. At least she wouldn't be at arm's reach, two doors up the hallway from mine...
Faen, hvordan havnet jeg i denne situasjonen?