Page 59 of Modern Romance September 2025 1-4
Now she’s trusting me again by coming to me and, though there’s trepidation in her eyes, there’s also determination. I told her she’s brave, and she is.
‘I said nothing sexual would happen between us unless you ask,’ I remind her, because she’s already made it clear that she’s not a game player, so I won’t play with her. ‘So…are you asking right now, Katla mine?’
A flush has crept into her cheeks, and uncertainty flickers across her face. Maybe the reality of the situation is hitting her and, maybe now it’s here, she’ll change her mind.
Hunger shifts inside me. I don’t want her to—Christ, I don’t want her to—but I say nothing, letting her think about it. She’s already had bad experiences with her husband, and I want to show her what real pleasure is, but only if she’s ready for it.
She draws out the moment, damn her.
‘Yes,’ she says at last. ‘I am.’
I crush the relief I feel, but I don’t hide my pleasure. I want her to know that she pleases me.
With a few quiet words, I get rid of the stewardess so we can have privacy, then I look at Katla standing in front of me, her eyes dark with a complicated mixture of fear and desire. She’s beautiful. And she is mine.
‘Come here,’ I order, holding out my hand to her.
She takes it, her fingertips a little cold, but I’ll soon get her warm, so I ignore it as I draw her into my arms and onto my lap. She moves stiffly and sits awkwardly, as if she’s not sure what to do with herself, so I arrange her so she’s sitting in the crook of my arm, her legs across me and over the other arm of the seat, her head against my shoulder.
She’s a warm, soft armful, and that flower and salt scent plays havoc with my senses. She belongs here in my lap—that’s the first thing that hits me. And it’s where she always should have been, not with that coward of a husband who didn’t know what he had in her. Who only saw the icy exterior of her and not the fire inside.
My body tightens, my cock getting interested, but I ignore it. This is not about me, this is about her. Olympia would be ecstatic if she knew that I’m considering acting unselfishly but, luckily for me, she’ll never know.
‘Did your husband ever talk to you about what you wanted?’ I ask quietly, hooking an errant curl that’s slipped out of her braid back behind her ear.
She shivers, looking up at me from beneath silvery lashes, her North Sea eyes dark and deep. ‘No. He thought I was frigid.’
Always so ready to rise, my anger burns hot at what that fool told her, but I ignore it. It’s not the time or place for my anger. ‘Well,’ I murmur. ‘Shall we prove him wrong?’
She gives a stiff nod, but her muscles are tense, and I want her to relax. ‘I think you need a drink first, hmm?’ I suggest.
She starts to rise out of my lap, but I shake my head. ‘No, stay there,’ I tell her, and she settles. Then I reach for my tumbler of Scotch sitting on the table. I take a sip, but don’t swallow. Instead, I put one hand beneath Katla’s chin, tilt her head back against my shoulder and dip my head, placing my mouth over hers.
She stiffens at first, then a second later relaxes, her lips softening. I let her taste the Scotch from my mouth and she makes a small, soft sound. I give her more, letting the heat of the alcohol and the kiss blend into something slow, sensual and hot. If the kiss in the car was a promise, this one shows her that I kept that promise. Shows her that I want her, that I’ll make it good for her, that I’ll seduce her so completely she won’t remember her own name. And I’ll take it slowly, teach her that she does indeed like sex but she just hasn’t yet had it with the right person.
Her mouth opens beneath mine, letting me in, and I deepen the kiss, the flavour of her mixed with the Scotch so damn delicious. It’s all I can do not to completely ravage her, but I keep myself in check.
She makes another sound, beginning to kiss me back, and I can taste her hunger. My anger twists into a sullen fury that this woman thought she didn’t like sex, all because her husband made her feel as if it was her fault. Didn’t he see the passion in her? Didn’t he see her hunger? But chemistry’s a funny thing, and clearly for Katla it’s the defining thing. She had none with her husband, but with me…
I place my hand on her throat, gripping her lightly, my palm pressed to her warm skin, feeling her pulse which is fast and frantic. I want her to know that she’s here with me, no one else, and that she’s mine.
She shudders as I caress the side of her neck with my thumb, tracing the delicate cord up and down in a slow stroke, then all the tension rushes out of her, her body melting against mine like warm candle wax.
‘More,’ she whispers against my lips.
The blaze of satisfaction burns through my veins like a drug. Of course she wants more; she’s ravenous for this. She’s ravenous for me, and she doesn’t even know it, though…perhaps she’s starting to get an idea now.
Pulling my mouth from hers, I reach for my Scotch and take another sip. This time she tilts her head back for me, ready to take my kiss, and when I bend my head and cover her mouth she drinks the Scotch straight from my mouth.
My God, she tastes incredible. I can’t get enough.
I take the kiss deeper, hotter, stroking the silky skin of her neck, and she moves restlessly in my lap, the curve of her rear pressing against my fly. I’m hard and aching and I want to do nothing more than sink myself inside her, but again I push the thought away. With another woman, I’d already be there, but not with Katla. Not now. I want to give her something that her husband never did: relentless physical pleasure.
I move my hand from her throat, trailing my fingers down over the silly Christmas sweater she’s wearing, following the curve of her breasts and then down further. She has on a close-fitting business skirt, very plain and no-nonsense. I put my hand on her hip, sliding it down her thigh to the skirt’s hem, before easing my fingers beneath it. I feel her tremble, and she draws in a ragged breath, so I lift my head and look down at her, checking in on her. Her face is deeply flushed, her eyes dark-blue, her mouth red. She’s staring at me as if I’m her last hope of salvation and it makes my chest clench tight.
This hold she has on me is mysterious, and I don’t understand it. The thing in my chest and the way I’m caring about her feelings… Those sensations are foreign to me. Well, perhaps not entirely foreign. I care about my sister, but she’s all I have room for. I don’t have the space to care about anyone else, and I don’t want to.
Yet Katla…
