Page 45 of Veiled Fantasies

Since she’d met him. She’d never been like this with any other man.

So wasn’t he worth trying to hang on to?

She leaned into his tight frame and vowed to talk to him—after. Test the waters. Surely there was some way to give themselves a chance. Maybe Stockholm wasn’t that far from London after all. Maybe they could give it a try. Maybe—

Erik rocked her gently back, letting one hand slip between their bodies and roam.

After. She would talk to him, after. Because her head was already lolling back as his fingers worked down her body, his lips not far behind. How anyone that solid could touch so gently was beyond comprehension.

The drone of the conference call receded until a voice pierced their bubble. “Bergstrom, what do the numbers say to you?”

Erik’s chin snapped up from her left breast. She tingled from the scrape of his stubble as the voice came again. “Bergstrom?”

She held her breath while Erik fumbled the laptop microphone on. “Everything lines up with what the office in Sydney wants, but there’s some concern about the third bullet point.” His composure was amazing. “I think we should consider what Evans has to say on the subject. Evans?” Erik tapped the microphone off and went back to where he’d left off.

“Very smooth,” she whispered, huffing lightly into his ear.

Erik rewarded her with a broad smile, then went serious as he guided her hips closer. She ground them into his, connecting. Her eyes closed as he slipped inside.

“Very smooth,” she groaned, taking him deeper.

“Bergstrom?”

Erik cursed and reached out again. He tapped the microphone key on and off, on and off. “Having-a-connection-problem-connection-problem.”

She couldn’t feel any evidence of a connection problem at her end of things and emphasized it with a sharp contraction of her inner muscles. Erik let out a tiny gasp and cut off the conference call just as the chairperson redirected his question. “Let’s check with Persson instead…”

She giggled and went for Erik’s mouth, wanting him inside in two places at one. She felt his hands clutch her tighter and start to lift. “Hey!” she protested. “What about my connection?”

“Coming,” he murmured, already pulling her to the bed.

His lips tickled her breast as he settled on top of her. His hand kneaded the soft tissue while his lips worked the sensitive tip. Her legs were already falling wide, and he responded with a wickedly slow-moving finger. Then two fingers, drawing a moan as they slipped and stirred, wakening every slumbering fiber.

“What are you doing?” she protested as he rose to his knees and tugged her upright.

He smiled a sinful smile and leaned into her ear, whispering a long, luscious word rich in slow vowels and tumbling consonants that could only mean something terribly naughty in Swedish. Something written with all the funny symbols they used, little circles above their A’s and dots over the O’s. Whatever it was, she wanted in.

She wanted him in, to be precise. She wanted him to linger over her body the way his tongue lingered over those sweet sounds, drawing out every ounce of beauty and pleasure. And the best part was, she knew he would.

“Let me,” she said, reaching for the condom he was pulling from the bedside table. Slowly, studiously, she unrolled it over his shaft. It was a pity, really, to cover such perfection.

Still on his knees, Erik lifted her up on him, leaning back for balance. A little too high at first, he let her ease down onto his erection.

“Oh, this is good,” she managed, barely stifling a cry. Precarious, but good. She kept firm hold of his shoulders as her legs gripped his waist. Inside, she was warm with the heat of both of them.

“Lean back,” he whispered.

How was that supposed to work?

“Lean back,” came the throaty whisper.

She leaned back ever so slightly. His mouth was still close enough to kiss, to cling to.

“More,” he whispered, arms gripping their reassurance. “Let go.”

Like a diver eying the height from the high board, she pulled in a long, slow breath, thinking of the space behind her. She leaned back slowly until she could barely maintain contact with his bulging biceps. The angle pushed him deeper, setting off another rush of pleasure.

“Let go,” his voice turned husky, low.

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