Page 15 of Broken Ice, Mended Hearts

“Did you see family while you were there?” I asked.

“No. My parents died when I was a baby, so my grandparents raised me—Mom’s folks. Long story, but I didn’t really haveanyone else. Since my grandparents died, I only go back to see friends.”

“That’s something else we have in common. I have no siblings, and since my folks are gone, I only have a few cousins back in Quebec.” Not wanting to leave it there, like I was parroting him, I added, “I’ve always wanted to visit Sweden.”

He glanced at me. “You should go when you can. It’s a beautiful country.”

We were silent the rest of the way to Chevy Chase. Sven stared out the side window, lost in his thoughts. I couldn’t resist sneaking looks at him, wondering what was going on in his mind. My own thoughts raced, trying to figure out how to make him feel at ease. If anything happened tonight, it had to be on his terms. I didn’t want to come off like a perv, luring him home after our first night out just for sex.

God, I needed it, though. I couldn’t even remember the last time I got off with someone else. Last winter, after the divorce was final?

I angled my head toward Sven and studied his profile. He was outrageously handsome, his firm jaw and prominent forehead especially appealing in the indirect light. He had a closely trimmed short beard, and I wanted to reach over and touch it.Fuck, that’s hot!I wondered how it would feel against my scruff-covered face, hair pulling against hair. Jesus, my cock rocketed from zero to sixty in a few seconds. I had almost no sexual experience with men, but that only meant Sven would have more to teach me.

Groaning inwardly, I wondered if I’d have the nerve to go through with a hookup even if he wanted to. I’d always had a big mouth with limited follow-through, and one of my best kept secrets was that I hadn’t been half the man-slut the media made me out to be.

At the house, I gave the driver forty bucks for a tip. It was a holiday weekend, and the traffic had been ugly.

Sven whistled as the car pulled away. “Beautiful house. Been here long?”

“Last winter. I bought it after the divorce since she got the other place.”

He winced. “That’s brutal, but this is awesome. You chose well.”

I lived in a 1920s Tudor the former owners had renovated, restoring it as much as possible to its original condition. “Come on, and I’ll give you the five-dollar tour.”

Inside, I showed him around. He oohed and aahed, admiring the arched doorways, oak floors, and vaulted ceilings. My heart pounded as we went upstairs, and images filled my head: Sven pushing me against the wall and ravaging my neck, grinding his hard cock against my ass. What if he threw me on the bed and crawled on top? Would I resist?

Regardless of my fantasies, we toured the three bedrooms without incident. Heading back downstairs, I led him to the kitchen, a large room with windows on two walls, stainless steel appliances, and granite countertops.

“Now, this is a fucking kitchen,” he said. “We’ve got to make dinner here sometime.”

“You can cook?” I hadn’t meant to sound dubious, but Sven was big and masculine. I just hadn’t thought?—

Shit! I know better.That’s the kind of stupid thought that almost had Cleevs and Kev beating the shit out of me a few years earlier.

Sven chuckled, rubbing a hand across my lower back. “Have you ever had a real Swedish meal?”

The warmth of his touch sent tendrils of pleasure winding through my body. I leaned back, and he slid his hand to my side.

“A… a Swedish meal?” I took a breath, needing to calm myself. “Gummy meatballs in bad restaurants on the road.”

He laughed again before dropping his hand. “That’s a shame. What if I come over one night and make some real Swedish meatballs? I promise you’ll love them.”

He edged his lips into a sideways smile that had my heart doing gymnastics in my chest. “That sounds great. Would you like a drink? I think I’ll have a beer.” I needed more alcohol because if there was a chance we would do something besides talk, I had to relax.

“Beer’s good.” He tilted his head and smiled. “I’ve been thirsty all day.”

The fuck does that mean? Was “thirsty” code for horny?

I hope so.

God, I hope not.

Fuck me.

I grabbed two bottles of beer from the fridge and passed one to him. “Take a look outside,” I said, flicking a series of wall switches, turning on the outside lights and revealing my amazing backyard. Pride welled up inside me because the area was far more than grass and trees; it was a beautiful garden. Bright, well-tended flowers were as vibrant as they were at midday. Carefully trimmed grass ran along the edges of lush plant beds, while scarlet oak trees stood guard along the perimeter of the property. A large pool was off to one side. Thank goodness for landscaping services because I didn’t know a weed from a stem.

He looked stunned. “Holy shit. What a place to live.”

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