Page 132 of Close Knit

“It’s because I like walking behind you,” I murmur, squeezing her butt. She playfully slaps my chest, her eyes sparkling.

“That reminds me, can you make that butternut squash soup this week? And get the sourdough from the shop around the corner? That was so good.”

I’ve been trying to figure out dinners that both Daphne and I will enjoy; squashes have been a hit.

I lean in, my lips brushing her ear. “Only if you promise to taste it…off my fingers.”

“Taste soup? Off of your fingers?” She snorts.

“Sounded sexier in my head.”

A blush creeps up her neck. “I’ll try anything once.”

She adds a few more yarn balls to the basket as we plan our meals for the week. I can’t take my eyes off her. Her movements, deliberate and graceful, stir something deep inside me. The way she carefully selects each ball of yarn, her fingers lingering on the soft textures, mesmerizes me.

She suddenly stops, counting the balls in the basket. “Wait…it’s like I blacked out for a second. I can’t possibly buy all this yarn. I don’t need them! Even though they’re so pretty.”

“They’re on me.”

“Seriously?”

“This weekend’s my treat.”

“Thanks, Goose.” Her smile widens.

“You’re welcome. How much can each yarn ball cost, a hundred bucks?”

“Fifty?” She laughs. “The priciest one here is probably thirty euros, and that’s for local wool.”

I definitely got played by the shop owner when arranging this private shopping trip. “Go wild. I can ask them to ship a box back, if you want.”

When the basket is overflowing, we head to the checkout. I spent more on yarn than I did on those damn vanilla candles, but her smile makes it worth every penny. Seeing her happiness as she moves around the store, knowing I can provide for her, makes my heart race.

As we leave, I pull her close, my voice low and rough. “You know, seeing you like this does things to me.”

She looks up, her eyes sparkling. “Oh? What kind of things?”

I lean in closer. “The kind that makes me want to keep you smiling, any way I can.”

Winter makesthe days short and the nights endless in Finland. The overnight train we took arrived in Lapland early this morning, and today was our only full day here before we head home tomorrow. The sun barely made an appearance before disappearing again. During twilight, we strapped on our snowshoes and ventured into the forest. Daphne’s nose and cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink, catching our guide’s eye and securing us an intimate meet and greet with the sled dogs.

By afternoon, we were lounging in the spa, soaking in the hot spring baths. We dared each other to plunge into the icy lake. She jumped in first, her squeal echoing off the frigid water. I couldn’t back down, not with her eyes on me.

Dinner was a five-course Finnish feast. Daphne ordered every dessert: Runeberg torte, pulla, and lingonberry pie. We lingered over strong black tea, determined to catch the northernlights. Last night on the train, the sky was too cloudy and I was far too motion sick to look out the window.

Now we’re back in our igloo room, trying to kill time. The glass ceiling arches overhead, offering a clear view of the sky. But nothing’s going as planned.

“Cameron, you’re down fifteen, and it’s the last sixty seconds of the game. It’s not happening,” Daphne says, her body laid back on the white hotel bedding.

It’s 2:00 a.m. and there are no northern lights, and now I can’t get her off. I roll my shoulders back, wiping the sweat off my brow.Come on, Cameron.

What am I doing wrong?

“Let’s try something else then,” I suggest. I’ve touched, licked, kissed, bit, pulled, and fucked her pretty cunt, but I can’t manage to get her to finish. This is outside my realm of experience.

Daphne giggles, tucking her hand between the space of my jaw and her thigh and pulling my gaze up to hers. I pull myself out of the heaven between her thighs and sit up. Is she no longer comfortable with me? We’ve been fooling around for the last half hour. Everything started as usual—hot and heavy and fucking perfect. But I immediately noticed something was off with Daphne.

“What you’re doing feels great, but it’s my anxiety meds, and we had a long day,” she assures me, wrapping her fingers in mine. “Fluoxetine sometimes just shuts off my libido. A stupid side effect.”

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