Page 57 of Ship Wrecked

In fact, she had a brilliant way to make that happen.

When she edged back a half step from him, his brows drew together. Holding up a finger in a mute request for his patience, she bent her head over her cell, typed out a reply to Ron and R.J.’s message, and tappedsend.

Peter’s phone immediately dinged.

“What did you—” He paused, forehead still furrowed. “Oh.”

She beamed up at him. “Smart, yes?”

“Yeah.” Another pause, this one lengthier. His gaze firmly affixed to his cell, he didn’t look up as he spoke. “Maria, I don’t think Ron and R.J. will pay for us to visit each other’s hometowns as part of the press junket, even if we shoot some footage for a bonus feature while we’re there. And while I’m happy to see Sweden, I’m not sure a trip to Wisconsin—”

For the second time in ten minutes, both their phones dinged.

With a sigh, Peter abandoned whatever he’d planned to say.

Reading the newest message from their showrunners didn’t take long. Apparently Ron and R.J. wanted to get the matter settled quickly. They were even desperate enough for good publicity to take a suggestion from her. Kind of.

“So we’ll apparently be going to Sweden and Wisconsin after our stint in LA,” she said, smug satisfaction suffusing every syllable. “To film a bonus feature and do more press interviews.”

Slowly, his brow smoothed. “Which they claim was their intent all along, even though they only specified LA in the original message.”

“Complete coincidence, I’m sure,” she said.

He gave a little snort of amusement, then simply... looked at her.

The moment stretched like elastic, taut enough to snap.

“Earlier tonight, I wasn’t sure when I’d see you again. But now we’re being asked—ordered—to spend at least two weeks in each other’s company. Day and night.” He stepped into her, crowding her against the door to her suite. With the pad of his thumb, he traced the swell of her lower lip, the soft sweep of her jaw. “In LA, we’re sharing the same hotel suite. Did you see that?”

He didn’t seem to expect an answer, which was good. She couldn’t manage to locate words. Not in English, not in Swedish. Not while his dark eyes consumed her, intent and hot, and his hands gently but relentlessly skimmed over her flesh and set it afire.

“I’ve been fantasizing for years.” A caressing fingertip brushed the sensitive edge of her ear, and she had to lean against the solid support of the door to remain standing. “I hope you’re ready.”

That sounded like a challenge.

And as always, she would fight to win.

“What do you want, Peter?” Deliberately, she surveyed him from crown to toes, her gaze lingering between his legs until his dick pushed insistently against the placket of his jeans, visibly swelling under her attention. “Tell me. In detail.”

He waited until she met his eyes again, and then slowly, slowly gathered her hair and wound it around his fist. A light tug, and a bolt of heat raced down her spine and between her trembling legs.

“I want my hands on you. My name on your lips, my tongue on your clit. My cock planted deep in your pussy as you come hard enough to cry.” His lips curved, and it wasn’t a kind expression. It was the hard smile of a Viking. A conqueror ready to pillage. “I want all of you. You have no idea how fucking much.”

Over the years, she’d suspected he wanted her in his bed again. Especially since their one night together had lingered in her memory, her dreams, and her fantasies for a long, long time now, and she’d figured it had to be the same for him.

Sex that good demanded a replay. If not physically, then mentally.

The apparent ferocity of his desire still shocked her.

He was right. She hadn’t realized, couldn’t have conceived of him or any man wanting her that much and restraining himself that tightly for so long. His will must be... implacable.

Fy fan, even the thought of it made her thighs squeeze together.

“You going to let me show you, Maria?” His dark eyes studied her as he gently pulled her hair, tugging until she moaned. With pleasure, not pain, because he was so careful with her. So very,very careful. “When you come back to LA, back to me, will you let me touch you whenever I want, however I want?”

Her response required every ounce of her faltering concentration, but she refused to surrender too much ground on such a key battlefield.

With the lightest press of her fingertips, she glided over the length of his jeans-covered erection, and he went very still. When he finally dragged air into his oxygen-starved lungs, his sharp, shaky inhalation sounded painful.

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