Page 57 of A Copenhagen Snowmance
It’s a shy kiss only for a moment, but then Anna lets herself go, that beat in her head of “go get him” urging her on. She slides her hands up to cup his jaw and leans further into the kiss and then backs him up to the wall behind him. He lets out a low growl as her hips meet his and she presses further, and one of his hands slides up into her hair at her nape, in turn sending a shudder down her spine. She feels life in parts of her that have been dormant for over a year. It makes her tongue glide across his lower lip and then back in to dance with his, in time with each other but taking turns to hold the control. It’s heady and intoxicating and Anna wants more.
She drags one hand away from his face, brushing her fingertips down his side where she slides them under the hem of his Henley. The feel of his skin against her palm elicits a small moan from her and escalates her desire. She wants her hands all over him, to feel the differences in his skin in ALL the places; the smooth, the rough, the silky, the strained. She wants to know it all. And she wants to know it now.
Her lips kiss their way down to his neck, where she basks in the scent of his skin below his ear. Cedarwood and leather and lovely. It fills her nose and entices her to linger longer, with more kisses travelling along to his collarbone.
She doesn’t really notice at first that he’s stilled. That his hands have released her, until they settle again on her upper arms and gently press her to make some space between them. Has he been distracted? She tries to restart things by pressing her hips back into his, because she can feel he’s into this, too. That’s not an advent candle in his pocket, she’s sure of it. But the rest of him is still, save for his thumbs rubbing the top of her arms.
“Anna?” he says carefully.
It’s not really conversation she’s looking for, to be honest, so she brings her lips up again to his. He accepts the kisses, but there’s something missing.Response.She swipes her tongue against his lips, hoping he’ll let her in, but instead he presses her further away.
“Anna.” He’s firmer this time.
Her eyes flick to his, and it takes her a second to focus. Her lust is clearly blinding. His expression is an odd mix; his eyes dark, his lips red with use but his smile is gentle and considered.
He steps aside, to uncage himself from her and the wall, though he doesn’t let go of her, for which she is thankful. She doesn’t really understand what’s going on, other than her horniness is being stymied.
“What?” she asks.
He closes his eyes for a beat and takes a deep breath, as if resetting himself. “This. This…”
Yes, she feels it too– the epicness. She takes a step forward again, to show him. His mouth pulls up to one side and she thinks he’s on board. Yasss!
“Stay,” he says, like she’s a puppy, or an unruly toddler. “I mean, wait.”
She does so, but is glad for his hands on her arms, as she might just sway. She can’t keep her eyes off his lips. His delicious, clever, kissable lips. Why are they wasting time?
“Anna,” he says, catching her attention again. “You’ve been drinking.”
“Mmmm,” she agrees, thinking of the last shots she and Katrine had had, drinking arms entwined across the table, mirroring everyone else in the room, and singing heartily. “Just a bit.”
“Just a bit,” he agrees.
She leans in a little and whispers, “Might have been a bit more than a bit.”
“I think you’re right.”
She smiles at him, glad they’re so in tune. That they agree with each other, on so many things. Maybe. But definitely this. And that’s a good thing, isn’t it? That if you want to get close to someone you agree about things…
“Anna? Stay with me. Your eyes are going in opposite directions.”
“They do that,” she says. “’S’fine.” She gives him her best reassuring smile. “I can shut them, if it bothers you. They don’t have to take part.”
She hears him chuckle, then feels the warmth of his breath at her ear as he whispers, “When we do this, I want your eyes open and on me. I want to see your pupils blown wide as you shout my name.”
Anna can’t quite get all the words in the right order in her brain to make sense of them– her attention is mostly on the sensation by her ear– but she feels deeper heat in her knickers.
He pulls back and she experiences a base need to stand on her tiptoes to get her ear back to his mouth.
“Here’s the plan, Lundholm. I’m going to take you to bed.”
Oh yes, back on track! Anna reaches out and places her hand on his crotch. Nope. Not a candle. She gives him a slow stroke and delights in the combination of the deep rumble from his throat and the grimace that shoots across his face.
“Behave.” He moves himself from her touch. “I’m going to take you up to bed,yourbed, and I’m going to tuck you in, and you’ll sleep this off.”
The cogs of her brain can probably be heard turning in Malmö, so slow and churning are they, and along with them, the crunch of her smile juddering as it drops.
“You don’t want to?”
