"You're naked" was the first thing I managed to say.
Honestly, keeping my eyes from wandering south was taking all of my brain power. Just perceiving that his torso was also covered in tattoos was enough to drive me mad.
My momentary stupidity seemed to amuse him, as a slight grin replaced his shocked expression. "That's a very perspicacious observation."
He made no move whatsoever to cover himself or to twist into an angle where I wouldn't see everything. Was this payback for the way I'd exposed myself to him? It was so much worse than what I'd done.
"I take it you had the same idea as me?" he asked, gesturing at the space surrounding him.
Finally, I looked away, setting my eyes on the paneled surface of a wall. "Yes. But I didn't think you'd be in there, naked."
"It's just a body, Mila. You don't have to be so mortified."
Mortified wasn't what I was. Horny was what I was.
"Well, I'm American, not Scandinavian, remember? 'Just a body' is a lot for us Puritan folks."
He chuckled, and even looking away as I was, I guessed at the way his abs flexed with it. Fuck me...
"My towel is hanging out there; you can hand it to me if it makes you more comfortable."
His offer took me by surprise, so I accidentally gazed his way again. Look up, look up! "I— Uuh..."
I didn't want to be in there with him, all naked and dashing, even with a towel to cover himself. Honestly, I would rather go grab my stuff, head upstairs again, and brainwash myself into forgetting the image of naked him. Well, I hadn't actually gotten the full image.
No! Up, up, up!
"Do or don't Mila, but decide. You're letting all the steam out."
My mind was torn into three possibilities that all held the same weight. Part one wanted to back away, close the door, and leave. Part two wanted to grab his towel, step inside, close the door behind me, and sit down. And then part three wanted to just dismiss the towel altogether and sit.
It seemed I was taking too long to pick one of those, because, before I knew it, he was pushing his tall, broad, and naked body up. When he walked my way, I inhaled at once, my breath so sharp it was almost a gasp. Robbed of the little control I had, my eyes dropped on their own to the dangling appendage taunting me, guided by the deep V at his hips.
My gaze remained on his private parts for only a split second, but it was enough to engrave the sight into my brain. Definitely enough for me to notice that his considerable length — even resting as it was—was uncut. Gosh, of course the man manscaped and took care of himself. He was sex on a stick, and once more, every aspect of him was as though carefully engineered to have me drop on my knees and beg for him to take me endlessly.
I was still standing in the doorway, so when he reached for something out there, he was right next to me, his nakedness almost pressing on my thin robe. He pulled back a little when he'd grabbed what he needed, and then planted his eyes into mine, looking down with a heat that had nothing to do with the sauna's workings.
"Do you want in, or out, Mila?" he asked, so damn near he could probably hear the hectic beats of my heart. Behind me, the panel of the door came to touch my back, startling me.
"In... I want in..."
"Good."
The door was pressed harder onto me as he pulled on it to close it, to keep the warmth and the steam inside. Helpless, I took a step farther inside so he could, which resulted in our bodies officially meeting, my covered front plastered on his bare one.
He is naked, a voice screamed in my head. Every part of him is available to your touch, your eyes, your pleasure... You must give in and take what you're starving for.
Seemingly just as tempted as I was, his interest shifted to my lips for a brief moment. I was feeling hot all over, outside and inside, and I wondered if I might burst out into thousands of pieces. He'd been so perfect since I'd gotten here, such a charming gentleman, that my convictions that he was a douche deep down were only holding on a thread at this point.
He'd welcomed Reggie, taken care of me when I'd hurt my ankle, indulged my momentary distractions, and was treating me like a guest rather than an inconvenience. That, and his natural charm, the kindness and affection he harbored for Yuko, and the way he tried so hard to respect my boundaries even though I was all over the place... Everything was making it impossible to keep resisting him.
As if to prove just how perfect he was, he pulled away without a word. He returned to his spot in three steps, exposing his back tattoos to me, and I watched while he sat on the bench again. He made sure to keep himself covered with the towel as he did so, and I almost regretted that. The man was constantly triggering conflicting thoughts, and I probably wouldn't come out of this entirely sane.
He bunched the towel across his lower abdomen and upper legs, covering himself from hip to hip. Most of him was still exposed, though, so I was still in some trouble.
"Better?" he asked.
"I'm not sure."
I hadn't meant it in a flirty way, but entirely because I honestly wasn't sure it changed much. He was still naked under there, still magnificently bare, and I didn't have enough resolve to fight my desire for him.
Still, it was too late to back away, to admit that I was a wuss and needed out, so I went to sit on the bench opposite him, but not right in front of him. His attention was on me as I lay back on the wall behind me, the wood of the pine planks warm against my robe. Displaying some boldness as well, I looked right back at him.
His short hair was messier than I'd ever seen it, and it made him somehow more accessible but equally charming. It was as though the man had many facets, and little by little, I was uncovering more of them. Deep down, I wished that I could know him well enough to discover each and every one of those versions of him, that I'd be lucky enough to know all of him. But it was a dangerous thing to wish for. Unlike the ancient antiques I worked with, he wasn't mine to discover, nor mine to unearth. He was a man of flesh and bones, with his own secrets and mysteries, and the potentiality of fucking me up real bad.
Since it would make things easier, I closed my eyes and focused on the heat slowly seeping into me.
"How's your ankle?"
I peeled one eyelid open. "Much better. I can't even feel it anymore. But I'll still be careful for another week, in case it's still a bit tender. I'd hate to actually hurt myself and be immobilized for weeks."
To prove my words, I lifted my foot on the previously injured side and rolled my ankle in every direction. I wasn't expecting him to reach for it, though, so when he did, my other eye opened in surprise and I sat up straighter. I remained silent as he inspected the articulation, resting my heel on his muscular thigh and gently massaging the space above my foot.
Barely a minute in there and I was already finding the heat unbearable. It was attacking me on every front, between the sauna that released more steam and my body that warmed up on its own at his touch.
"It's good that you didn't injure yourself too badly," he declared, still torturing me with his skillful massage. His hands were slowly moving lower, his thumbs already pushing into the sole of my foot. "I'd hate to see you hurt while you're under my care."
"I'm not under your care. And it would have been my fault, so no need to feel responsible. I'm the one that got spooked by Jakob and lost my balance."
"Frightening beautiful maidens is in our blood, so I suppose it wouldn't even have been your fault."
His take on things had me smiling irrepressibly. "You're very proud of your Viking heritage, aren't you?"
"I'd say my collection speaks for itself," he replied with amusement.
Slowly, I was relaxing, subdued by his magic touch. I shouldn't have indulged, shouldn't have let him massage my foot like this, even less so since we were both nearly naked. But damn, it felt good. So, so good. Not just because he was amazing at it, but because it was him, and small sparks of delight would ignite every now and then, only to jolt up my leg. I closed my eyes and leaned against the wood again, tilting my head back.
"Were your parents also into Viking history?"
"My father was, yes. Definitely. My mother...not so much. I think she could have been, but she had too many things going on."
"Do you collect anything else, aside from the cars and the artifacts?"
"Actually... See that locked room you obsessed about the other day?"
I opened my eyes instantly, my interest definitely piqued. "What about it?"
He bent closer, looking so serious and grave my excitation peaked. With a very serious tone, he confessed, "It's filled with the bodies of my past wives."
Half a second. I was speechless and shocked for half a second. And then something clicked in my brain. With a huff, I removed my foot from his care and pushed on his knee with it to reprimand him for his joke.
"Isn't that from some French folk tale?"
"Bluebeard, by Charles Perrault," he admitted with a massive, luminous grin on his face. Okay, I couldn't even be mad at him for the teasing. Not when he looked so damn endearing.
"Give me your other foot, sweetheart," he demanded, taking me by surprise.
Was he turning this into a full massage session? What on earth was going on? He was trying to turn me into a puddle, wasn't he?
"What's with you and pet names?" I protested instead of cooperating.
"I keep forgetting your name, is all." He gave me another massive grin, and my heart twitched at the sight. Christ, he was in a good mood today... Maybe I needed to flash him my ass in tight gym pants more often.
I shoved him with my foot again, the other one this time, and before I could set it down, he snatched it. "There you go," he said proudly, initiating a massage on this side as well.
Once more, his dexterous fingers prevented my retreat. It felt too good to deprive myself of it, so I wouldn't. It felt like I hadn't been touched like this in forever. Gigi was tactile, but not to this extent, and the men I sometimes shared beds with weren't selfless enough to do such things, nor would I want them to.
However, it actually felt too good, and I couldn't help but feel like we were headed down a dangerous path. One that might lead to much, much more than foot massages.
"Ulrik, wh–what are we doing?"
"We're being friendly, that's all."
"I don't normally do such things with friends. Do you?"
I didn't need his answer, reading it in his eyes instead. This was unusual for the both of us. We were navigating in unknown waters, and the desire that bound us together was coming in the way of any attempts at something platonic. Just this had me wanting to rip our towels off so we could have wild and intense sex in here.
"When have we ever been normal?" he argued, which I had to admit was true.
I didn't answer. What could I say, anyway? I didn't want this to stop, and while we were walking all over the boundary we'd set for ourselves, we weren't crossing it. Not yet.