Page 140 of Pucking Strong

“Leave them,” I pant, tugging on his shoulder. “Just fucking kiss me.”

Abandoning his hunt, Henrik rights himself. Pressing in with his hips, he pins me to the door. I groan with aching need, my hands fisting tight to his shirt as I pull him to me. Our lips meet, and we both just sink into each other, taking what we need.

It’s not air. It’s certainly not more fucking sake. I just need more ofhim. More of this taste. More of the feel of him. I want us naked. Undone. I want him pressing me down, making me bear his weight, as he claims me again and again. Fuck, I want him to ruin me more than I’m already ruined. I am so lost to this man.

But we can’t do any of that in this hallway.

With a groan, I break our kiss. “Baby, get the keys.”

“Va?”

“Keys, Henrik. Keys for door. Come on, I don’t speak enough Swedish for this.”

Swaying slighting, Henrik steps back, once again searching for his keys on the floor.

I hear a click, but I’m too tipsy to register what it means. The front door swings open from the inside, and I go falling backwards.

“Teddy!” Hanna shrieks.

I’d like to say I catch myself, but that would be a lie. I land on my back on the entry rug, staring up at a shocked and dismayed Hanna.

“I’m so sorry!” She reaches for me with both hands. “I heard a noise. I thought maybe you forgot your keys!”

“Found them,” says Henrik, holding up his key ring. He finds me on the floor and lifts a confused brow. “What are you doing on the floor, mitt hjärta?”

Hanna giggles, helping me to my feet. “Seems like you two had a nice time tonight.”

I slip my shoes off, leaving them by the door. “Henrik taught us all a snapsvisa.”

“Uh-oh.” She steps back, holding the door as Henrik enters. “Do you need me to stay the night?”

“Not necessary,” I reply with a wave, stumbling my drunk ass towards the kitchen.

Henrik says something in Swedish.

“English, babe,” I call over my shoulder.

Hanna laughs. “Actually, I speak Swedish, remember?”

I just groan. “Why does everyone speak Swedish but me?”

Over by the door, Henrik now seems to be having trouble removing his shoes.

Hanna just smiles. “Well, you both seem good. So, I’m gonna go. Have a great rest of your night, okay? Maybe take some aspirin.”

“I’m gonna make us some coffee,” I call from the kitchen. “We’ll be totally sober in, like, an hour.” She stifles a giggle that has me turning towards her. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing,” she says with a wave. “Just, Henrik said almost the exact same thing in Swedish just now. You two enjoy the rest of your night.”

I’m busy stuffing coffee grounds into the brew basket when I hear the front door finally shut. I set a mug on the cup rest andpress the On button. The machine hums to life just as Henrik steps in behind me, pressing me to the counter with his hips. “I don’t want coffee,” he growls in my ear, his hands wrapping possessively around me to splay across my chest.

“You will,” I assure him, patting his arm. “In about thirty minutes, when this warm cloud of drunkenness wears off and the sake headache sets in.”

He groans, pressing his face to my neck. “Then we still have thirty minutes.”

I grab his wrists and squeeze. “Not here.”

“Tell me where.”

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