Page 64 of From Helsinki with Love
"It's late for that as I'm already in love," Vivian admits, making my heart race.Does she mean me, too?"But thank you for keeping me entertained."
I kiss her neck before whispering, "There are many ways I can do that."
She playfully wiggles her eyebrows. "Shouldn’t I be getting ready?"
"I can be quick," I promise.
"No, you can't." She laughs, nudging me back, so she can get out of the bed. "Nice try, though. Now, let me take a shower and get ready."
"Okay then." I pout playfully, knowing she’s right. If I got her naked now, I wouldn’t let her out of the bed for hours.
As Vivian disappears into the bathroom, I grab my phone and call the restaurant, ordering us a room service breakfast. They promise to bring it in less than ten minutes, which is perfect.
Finishing the call, I hear the water running and picture Vivian standing under the shower, water cascading down her curvy body, her dark hair falling against her pale skin. My mind starts to wander, and I imagine joining her in the shower, the steamy water enveloping us as we explore each other's bodies. The picture in my head is so real that my cock hardens even though I know that there isn't time for any naked fun.
The water turns off, and I wait for Vivian to appear. She comes out dressed in a fluffy white robe, tempting me, making me want to touch her. I walk to her and slide my hands under the robe, feeling her delicious curves. I inhale her sweet scent, a mix of lavender shampoo and vanilla body lotion, as there’s a knock on the door.
"Who's that?" she asks, jumping away from me, before walking back to the bathroom.
"That should be our breakfast," I say, making myself ready to answer the door, tugging my hardened dick inside my boxers.
Opening the door, I invite the room service waiter in, and he sets the tray down on the table. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and food makes my stomach growl.
"Thank you for being so quick," I tell him in Finnish and hand him a generous tip.
The young man avoids my eyes as he takes it. "Thanks, sir."
I’ve met hundreds of fans, so I know the signs when someone recognizes me and is too afraid to say anything. "Wait a moment," I tell him and go grab a signed hockey card from my bag before trying to hand it to him.
His eyes go round as he realizes what I’m holding. "I can't take it."
"I insist.” I nudge the card toward him.
"Thank you. Have a good day, Mr. Åkerman."
I laugh. "You can call me Jasper."
"Bye, Jasper."
As I turn after our goodbyes, I spot Vivian smiling, leaning against the bathroom door frame. "That was sweet of you."
"I try to be nice to my fans whenever I can."
"What did you give him?” she asks curiously.
“A hockey card.”
Vivian looks confused, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. “What’s ahockey card?”
“A trading card, but instead of Pokémon or something else, they have ice hockey players on them.”
“Can I see one?”
I hand her the hockey card with my photo and information on it. She turns it around, inspecting the design before reading all the text.
“Jasper Alexander Åkerman, born on January 10, 1993, in Tampa, Florida. Six foot three, 205 pounds. Center for the New York Woodpeckers. Right-handed,” Vivian reads the information aloud. “Well, I knew everything but your weight.”
“Yeah, I guess my weight is something I don’t even think about outside the rink.”
