Stockholm Diaries, Caroline Page 9

  “But I’m not a sports photographer. At least I wasn’t until yesterday,” she said, trying to steady her voice. He was standing only a few inches from her, his hands clenched, and she could feel the heat of the tension in his body. But behind the tone of their conversation, she felt the undeniable crackle of pure physical attraction. Caroline lowered her voice, not sure if he was even hearing her.

  “I came here on a magazine job about ex-pats around the world. These hockey photos were just a last-minute way to fund my trip, a connection through my friend downstairs.”

  She paused for a moment to get her breath and then added, “Besides, you weren’t exactly straightforward with me. When I told you I was from Detroit, you didn’t tell me you just moved from there.”

  “Caroline, I have a bad reputation in Detroit. Really bad. But you probably know that about me by now.”

  He was quiet for a moment as he let his words set in. When he spoke again, his voice was low and sad.

  “You made me laugh that night, breaking into your own apartment. It was the first time I'd really laughed in a long time. And then, in the hall—” Niklas paused, seeming to struggle with what to say next. Then looked straight at her with his sky-blue eyes.

  “Whatever happened between us, I just wanted it to have nothing to do with my past. I’m trying so hard to get out of that world, and I thought—”

  He stopped again. He shook his head, looking back at the floor.

  “What did you read about me in your search?” he asked quietly. He sounded resigned.

  He had seen her computer screen when he had walked in.

  “I didn’t look yet,” she said. “What will I find?”

  “Bad things,” he said, looking straight at her. “Really bad.”

  Niklas looked so serious right now, and Caroline had absolutely no idea where this was going. There was a part of her that felt untethered, as if the path in front of her had suddenly disappeared. Or maybe some part of her knew where this would lead; she just didn’t want to look. Caroline took a deep breath and asked her next question, though she wasn’t sure if she was ready for the answer.

  “Are these things true?”

  “Some of them are,” he said with a tight smile. “There were a couple times when I took things too far on the ice. But the worst things the papers say—those things aren’t true, at least not the way they write them.”

  Caroline nodded slowly, wondering what those really bad things could be. Did she want to know, even after he had said they weren’t true? But before she could decide whether or not to ask, he began to talk again.

  “When I’m on the ice, I’m not thinking anymore. The game’s too quick for that,” he said, his eyes still steady on her. “I’m just acting and reacting. The danger for me, for anyone who spends his life training for a game like this, is that you can’t live the rest of your life like that. In fact, it can get you into a lot of trouble if you’re not careful. We all have ways of dealing with it, and some do better than others.”

  What was he trying to tell her? She had the feeling again that she was blindly stepping forward, but she couldn’t stop herself.

  “Caroline, I deal with this by staying away from women that I think might provoke strong emotions in me. But—”

  He stopped and looked at the ground, as if he were struggling with what to say next, as her insides sank. What? Which kind of woman was she? The kind that he stayed away from or the kind that he didn’t have emotional attachment to? Neither sounded very appealing. Niklas seemed to sense that the conversation was heading in the wrong direction, too.

  “No, wait. Please listen,” he said, and he lifted his hand to her cheek, coaxing her. “Caroline, everything about this is different. And I’m trying my hardest to figure out what to do about it. I want so much to have something with you, something more, something that’s far away from hockey. But I need to be careful around you.”

  Oh.

  The fact that she had met Niklas only a handful of times didn’t seem to matter. The truth was that she had felt this same pull between them since the first morning they had met. Caroline didn’t know what to say. All she knew was that the rough brush of his hand on her cheek was having the same effect as it had every time he touched her. She was taking short breaths, trying to concentrate on what he was saying, trying to contain all the things her body urged her to do.

  “Part of me wants to warn you to stay away from me,” he said quietly, “but the other part, well…”

  His fingers stroked her cheek again and then moved to her neck. He seemed to be waiting for her to take the next step. She looked up at him, so tender and serious. The lock of his hair that had caught her eye earlier had now fallen onto his forehead, and she brushed it away. And in that moment, she had made her decision—for now, at least.

  “This has nothing to do with hockey,” she whispered. “It didn’t before, and it doesn’t now.”

  Gently, she urged his head down to hers, and he obliged her, parting his lips and giving her another taste of his warm mouth. She could feel the smoldering heat from his body, and, yet, he still held back. She kissed him, and slowly he allowed his body to come alive. He began to explore her mouth, tasting her. His lips were soft, but there was a roughness in his kiss, a hunger he seemed to be trying to keep hold of.

  But when her hands began to trace a slow path down, over the flat, hard muscles of his chest and the ripples of his stomach, this ignited something in him, something he could no longer hold back. A low growl came from deep inside his chest as his mouth devoured hers. There was nothing gentle about his kiss anymore, only raw desire. Everything else around her disappeared except the sensations of the places where their bodies met. His hands traveled along her sides, exploring the curve of her hips and stomach. Then he found her breasts, and she felt the deep jolt of pleasure as his fingertips circled and squeezed.

  “Oh,” Caroline moaned, and she felt him react.

  He stopped suddenly, as he did before in the stairwell. He groaned again as he pulled himself away and rested his arm on the wall over her, his large body heaving. This time Caroline didn’t let go of him.

  “No,” she said, her voice husky and breathless. “Please don’t stop.”

  “Are you sure you want this?” His voice was low and ragged in her ear. “Because I’m not sure if I can hold back if we go any further.”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” she whispered back as she lifted his shirt, running her hands up the trembling muscles of his stomach and chest. His skin was searing hot.

  Caroline pulled off his shirt, and then, as he hung over her, she slowly lifted her dress over her head, dropping it on the floor next to her. She heard his camera bag drop to the floor as well. As her lips met his again, his hand moved up her thigh as she pressed herself closer to him.

  He pulled away again, but this time it was to lift her, and he did it with surprising ease. Niklas carried her down the hallway and into the bedroom.

  “Is this what you had in mind when you knocked on my door?”

  “Not exactly,” he said with a searing smile, “though I can’t deny I’ve fantasized about it. More than once.”

  He set her down on the bed in front of him. Her hands were not quite steady when Caroline reached up slowly and unbuttoned his jeans. She slid them down, following his long, hard thighs and well-defined calves with her hands until she reached his feet. There was no denying he was built like an athlete, ever part of him. His muscles tensed at her touch, and she heard him draw in his breath as she slowly ran her hands back up to where he throbbed and pulsed. Another low sound escaped his mouth as he lay her back onto the bed, hovering over her.

  “Å, vad jag vill ha dig,” Niklas whispered in her ear.

  Then he began to kiss her all over, on her shoulders, on her neck, and then lower, onto the sensitive peaks of her breasts. Slowly, he made his way down her body in a trail of kisses. Then he spread her legs and kissed her again.

>   He was so much gentler and slower than she imagined he would be. She could feel the power behind his long, muscular body, but he took his time and seemed to be as lost in this experience as she was. His unhurried mouth explored every part of her, places she didn’t even know she wanted to be touched. He licked and sucked until her own cries were muffled by the heavy thudding of her heart. And then he sucked a little harder, pushing her over the edge.

  He hovered over her, resting on his elbows as the last waves of pleasure still echoed through her body. He kissed her neck and forehead, still slow and gentle despite the erection that was throbbing against her.

  “Do I want to know where you learned to do that?” she whispered.

  Niklas’s laugh was a low rumble.

  “Probably not.”

  Caroline laughed, too, trying not to let her thoughts wander further in that direction.

  “But I’d like to think I have a few more skills, too,” he said, his smile getting broader.

  “I bet you do.”

  His erection pulsed against her again, and she couldn’t believe that her body could respond so soon. But there were plenty of things about this evening that were hard to believe.

  “Are you… do you want…” his voice was tight with restraint now.

  “I want you,” she said, arching up to drag her teeth over his bottom lip. “Please. Now.”

  He didn’t need any more prompting than that. With one hand under her, raising her to meet him, Niklas slowly entered. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on hers, pushing deeper. A little cry escaped from her mouth, and he froze.

  “Am I hurting you?” he groaned.

  “No,” she gasped. “Don’t stop.”

  She moved under him, her body trembling with renewed pleasure. She was impossibly full, but he kept moving deeper. Finally, he stilled, his breath coming in short pants.

  “Still okay?” he whispered in her ear.

  She nodded, unable to speak. The sensation was overwhelming, and her body struggled to accommodate his size. Finally her breath returned.

  Then he began to move again in long, deliberate strokes. His gaze was hot and intense, and his face filled with building pleasure. The dust of hair over the smooth, hard muscles of his chest skimmed her nipples as he lifted her hips for thrust after thrust. She wanted more, faster, harder and she held on tight as he gave it to her. Her release came in long, racking spasms, and Niklas’s low cries followed.

  He held her tightly until their aftershocks eased. He kissed her over and over, on her lips, in her hair, and in the most tender places of her throat. Gently he rolled off, keeping her body tight against his.

  Caroline was having trouble forming her thoughts. It wasn’t just the pleasure. The whole experience was much more intense, much more intimate than she expected. Nothing in her life had prepared Caroline for anything like this. Of course, she and Brad had dutifully had sex on Saturday nights, and it had been fun. But sex with Niklas was something much, much different than fun.

  “WHY WOULDN’T YOU speak to me in the stairway after the game?” asked Caroline. “I was trying to tell you I was there, too.”

  Caroline lay on her back, her hair a tangled mess on the pillow. Niklas was on his side, his hand exploring the curve of her waist.

  “I said, ‘later,’” he said, raising his eyebrows. “I couldn’t talk. It’s more than I’d do for anyone else.”

  “And I’m supposed to be grateful for that?” she laughed. “The famous Niklas Almquist talked to me.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” he said, squeezing her thigh in its most ticklish spot and sending her into a fit of laughter. “I meant that I was trying.”

  Then his smile faded a little, and he pulled her closer to him. “Actually, I did want to talk to you. Badly. Or maybe a little more than talk,” he said with a chuckle. “But not after a game. Not when I was—”

  Caroline studied his face, waiting for him to continue. He was looking out the window now. There was a wrinkle of seriousness between his eyes, and the corners of his mouth pulled tight. His large, warm hand had stopped at her shoulder.

  Finally he said, “This might not make a lot of sense right now, but I didn’t want you to see that part of me. How I get when I play. I told you before that I have to be careful when I’m like that. When we walked together that morning out in Vasaparken, I felt like it was just you and me, not just the hockey player but the rest of me. And it felt so good, so easy. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like that with someone, and I didn’t want to screw that up. I still don’t.”

  Caroline gave him a wry smile. “So you didn’t want me to know you played hockey, but you were angry when you thought I deliberately kept my photography job from you?”

  Niklas laughed.

  “Okay, that’s fair,” he said. His fingers had dropped down from her shoulders and were now teasing her nipples. “But hockey brings out something in me, something I can’t always control.”

  Caroline was having a hard time concentrating on the conversation, but she had more questions for him. She tried to remember what they were.

  “What happens after this tournament? Do you go back to Detroit?”

  He shook his head. “No. My contract wasn’t renewed. I didn’t play much this season because of injuries, and then there was—”

  Again, he cut off his sentence. The alleged assault? But he had said that the worst wasn’t true. His hand stopped its explorations, and Caroline saw a flash of anger cross his face. As much as she wanted to ask what had happened, she could clearly see he didn’t want to talk about it. Caroline decided not to push the subject—not now.

  “I just found out I wasn’t going back not too long ago,” he finally said.

  And immediately, Caroline was sure she knew exactly when he had found out. It was the night shortly after she had arrived, the night she had heard him through the walls.

  “Djurgården offered me a contract,” he said and then added, “That’s the Stockholm team I played for before I went to Detroit.”

  Caroline let her hand run along the side of his face.

  “Is that what you want?”

  “What I want is to figure out what comes next. I’ve spent most of my life training for hockey, training to be quicker and stronger and more ruthless. To intimidate. To be single-minded. But there’s not much I can do with that kind of training off the ice. Not much that won’t get me arrested,” he said with a bitter smile.

  “I can think of a place for some of those skills,” said Caroline with a smile as she let her hand run across his chest and along the muscles of his arms. “Not all, but some.”

  Niklas laughed, and his expression relaxed. It felt so good to be with him, too good to think about all the reasons why she probably shouldn’t be doing this. Caroline tried to block out those thoughts, and his renewed explorations made that easier.

  “Is this what you were thinking?” he said, his voice low and husky as he took her breast in his mouth. “I hope you’re appreciating my single-mindedness.”

  She certainly was.

  Chapter Twelve

  Caroline wasn’t sure how much actual sleep she got, if any at all. The perpetual twilight of the Nordic summer night had faded in and out of her consciousness. Niklas’s body, so new next to hers, awoke something inside her own that she couldn’t let go of, despite her exhaustion. He, too, stayed half awake, his hand over her hips as he lay behind her.

  Sometime during the night, Niklas had gotten up to open the windows to the cool nighttime air. He stopped at the low table at the foot of the bed and picked up one of the photographs.

  “Are these yours?” he asked.

  She nodded. “It’s Mexico. We visited my father’s home town when I was fourteen.”

  Niklas picked up each one and held it in his palm, studying it with interest. When he came to the last one, the back of the frame fell off, and he was left with the bare photo of her fa
ther’s grief in his hand. He looked at it for a long time.

  “Why is this one hidden?” he finally asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said truthfully. “I guess it feels private. I don’t want to see it every day, but I want it with me.”

  “Can I look at it now?”

  Caroline nodded.

  He was silent for a while again, just staring at the photo. Then he said, “Your parents really love each other, don’t they.”

  It was a statement, not a question, it seemed. In all the years of holding onto that photo, Caroline had never seen it in those terms. She had only seen her father’s sacrifice, the pain and frustration that the distance from his family had caused him. But Niklas had seen something different.

  Caroline crawled down the bed and sat next to Niklas, taking the photo from his hand. He was right. Their love for each other was there, just as much as her father’s pain, if not more. She just hadn’t looked for it before.

  “Yes,” Caroline finally said, putting the photo back into his palm. “Yes, they love each other. Each gave up a lot to be together, but I don’t know if either of them thinks about it that way.”

  She looked up at Niklas’s face, trying to decipher his expression. He was watching her as if he were trying to answer some question of his own.

  “What about your parents?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Not quite as rosy,” he said. The corners of his mouth pulled down. “Some other time I’ll tell you. Not tonight.”

  He pulled her on top of him, and she settled into the warmth of his arms wrapped around her body, drawing her closer, his skin against hers. She rested her head on his chest. She must have drifted off for a moment but was woken up soon afterward by his clear arousal. She shifted, and he let out a hiss.

  “I can’t get enough of you, Caroline,” he said into her ear with a wry laugh.

  “I didn’t know exactly what to expect from you,” she said. “I guess I thought you’d be a little… rougher.”