Page 34 of Yule Know It When You See It
After jotting all of this down and then some, I extend my hand with a grin. “This was amazing. Thank you so much for sharing with me.”
“I hope you find it useful, and I can’t wait to read it.”
An hour goes by and I’ve interviewed several more of the wives. Most share the same sentiment as Ramona with their husband’s time away from home, but each has such glowing things to say about things the players did when they were home. It’s enough information and inspiration to write an entire novel, not just a short story column for a magazine.
When I exit the hallway, Axel is still in the locker room, and I find myself leaning against the wall, waiting for him. Icouldcall an Uber, but given what happened between us, I don’t want him to think I’m ditching him.
Instead, my writer’s brain goes into overdrive, creating plot threads for a genre I’ve never written—historical fiction. And more specifically? The Viking Age.
A blonde Viking, clad in armor and wielding an ax. He takes off his helmet to reveal he looks—exactly like Axel. Having closed my eyes to let my imagination run wild, I blink them open confusedly. You know what? I’m rolling with it.
Grey storm clouds are in the sky, making Axel’s blue eyes downright iridescent. I peek through the tent flaps.
Ido? And now I’m the heroine in this story. Typical.
I spy him stalking toward the tent, taking off bits of armor as he goes, leaving it all in a scattered mess in his wake.
He ducks into the tent, and his lips meet mine in a fierce kiss. He smells like dirt, blood, and sweat. The idea of it caked on his hands and face, smearing my skin, should disgust me, but all it does is tighten my insides and make me more ravenous for him. He pulls away only long enough to shrug my linen dress from my shoulders, exposing my breasts. He kneads, licks, sucks, and nips them before wrapping his hands around my hips.
In one swift motion, he effortlessly lifts me from the ground. He moves us to the other side of the tent, resting me atop the table. He sweeps his arm across the items strewn on it, sending wooden bowls, apples, and a half-eaten chunk of bread clamoring to the floor. He whips the linen shirt from his torso, revealing a bronzed muscular chest and stomach. The full sleeve tattoo courses up his arm, over the shoulder, and a part continues onto one pec. His hand is on his belt, quickly undoing it and freeing his hardness for me. He bunches my dress’ skirts at my waist and pulls me to the edge of the table by the backs of my knees. Without caution or warning, he plunges into me, deep and rough. He thrusts over and over and—
“What are you daydreaming about?” Axel’s deep voice rumbles in my ear.
I snap my eyes open, not realizing I’d been fondling my neck. Please tell me he didn’t stroll into the hallway to find me moaning, too.
“I uh—was going over the story idea I came up with from speaking to the wives.”
Axel presses a forearm on the wall near my head, and I swear if he adds another, completing the “cage-in,” I will have my way with him right here in the hallway. Public indecency be damned. “Must be some story. Heard you mumbling words that sounded a lot like ‘armor’ and ‘thrust.’”
The way he says “thrust” in that Norwegian accent has a pool party developing in my panties.
“Mmhm,” Axel says, one thousand percent calling my bull crap. “Busted, Romance.”
“Okay, so it’s a genre piece. A separate novel I’m considering writing.” I press the back of my head against the sturdy wall behind me.
Axel’s nose brushes mine before he pushes away, chuckling. “And whatever inspiredthatall of a sudden?” His tone is all forms of teasing and sarcasm.
“A desire to write beyond contemporary romance?” I manage a grin that feels like a grimace.
He lets out a breathy laugh and juts his elbow to the side, offering me his arm. “Ready to head home?”
Home. Likehishome? Oh, crud. I’m not ready for this. I’m—completely blowing this out of proportion.
“My home? And you toyourhome?”
A rousing chuckle putters from his stomach now. “Yes, Theo. You’re acting stranger than normal. Are you okay?” The back of his hand presses to my forehead, and I nuzzle it like an attention-deprived golden retriever. “Theo?”
My eyes burst open. “Yes?”
Axel leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to my lips, his hand moving from my head to my cheek. “Seriously. You alright?”
“Never better. Did you get everything you needed from the hockey players?”
Axel curls me to his side and kisses the top of my head. We walk with locked arms and share stories from the players and their wives. I tell him mynon-salacious story idea about the two college sweethearts, and we continue to hit it off at every turn.
We’re already working so well together on the article, we’ve kissed, and we can share silence together. Maybe thereisthe possibility of us being something more than two writing colleagues who occasionally like to make out. Maybe this reallycouldwork.
I’ve been interviewing several players for the past hour, managing to take a few notes because Iama professional, but to say I give them my undivided attention? Not even close. Feelings consume my every thought. Theo’s lips—soft and thin. The way her body pressed into mine, exploring what I had to offer beneath layers of clothing. The moans and groans that escaped her throat when I swirled my tongue with hers.
