Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Suffice to say, the ride into Oslo feels much longer than it should. And hotter. And it feels like there’s no air in the car. By the time Olaf drops us both off outside Steen & Strøm, I feel like I’ve been released from some prison of my own sexual frustration.
“Where you off to?” James asks me, following me as I head into the store, totally prepared to just leave him outside.
“I’m going to get my grandmother a cake from the café,” I tell him, stepping out of the way as shoppers come in and out of the store. “Then maybe do a bit of shopping before I see her.”
He has this eager, almost hopeful look in his eyes. His puppy dog impression. But I’m not about to invite him along for this. This is the one day of the week that’s my time and my time alone. In the name of self-care, I can’t have James following me around.
I don’t even have to say anything because that hopeful look disappears pretty quickly. “So what time does Olaf pick us up?”
“I’ll text Olaf and let him know when we’re ready. I usually go for dinner after, so…” I pause, rubbing my lips together for a moment, knowing I’ll regret this. “So if you wanted to get something to eat when I’m done, I know a nice little wine bar.”
His brow creases in surprise. “Really? I’d like that.” He walks over to me, and I freeze, not sure what he’s about to do.
He holds out his hand.
I stare at it for a moment.
Stare up at his face.
Get overwhelmed at how handsome he is.
And put my hand into his.
He smiles in delight, giving it a squeeze. “Actually I was just wanting your mobile. I wanted to add my number.”
Shit.
My cheeks immediately burn, and I try to snatch my hand from his, but he hangs on to it for a few seconds more before I can take it back. I look down and busy myself, searching for my phone in my purse, my skin on fire.
Finally I enter my passcode and give him my phone, avoiding his eyes. Even so, I can tell he’s got that cat-got-the-canary smile, and right now I’m one very flushed canary.
He takes the phone and enters his contact information. “Feels kind of silly, doesn’t it?” he says as he types. “Considering we’re practically sleeping in the same room.”
I swallow, trying to calm my flaming cheeks, make my face go neutral. He’s baiting me about this morning again. I say nothing.
He hands it back to me. “Text me when you’re done. I think I might go check out the Viking museum.”
Then he walks out of the store, holding the door open for an elderly woman who gives him the crankiest look. He shoots me another grin over her head and then leaves.
I stare at him for a moment, watching him disappear through the glass doors. If you didn’t know he was a professional bodyguard, you’d pick up on it anyway. Yes, he’s charming and a little goofy at times, definitely a rascal, but he walks with a sense of purpose and grace, like he can fight to the death and he knows it. His body is a very well-oiled machine, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice, and the man doesn’t seem to show any fear. He’s all confidence.
And yet, there are times when I’ve seen his confidence waver. And there was one time when I saw the fear.
It was in bed.
With me.
When I told him I was falling for him.
I didn’t think it would be a big deal, not in the moment anyway. It was after a particularly slow and sensual round of sex. I’d just come, hard as hell and in an emotional way, and I was so loved up on endorphins, being held in his arms, feeling his heart beat, that I just blurted it out.
I mean, it wasn’t “I love you.” I didn’t love him. I wasn’t in love with him.
I was just falling for him.
That’s not the same at all.
But when I said the words…James just froze.
Literally froze.
Like I thought he died. He wasn’t even breathing.
And the look in his eyes after that was…well, it was fear. He was afraid. I opened my mouth and said something I shouldn’t have, when I was feeling very open and vulnerable, and I set him off.
So yeah, I’ve seen him be afraid.
Just sucks that I was the one that scared him.
I shake that out of my head, hating that those old feelings are being conjured up again, the feelings I did my best to forget. Rejection, bitterness, unworthiness. I push them away and then carry on in the department store, looking for cake.
Thankfully they do have cloudberry cake, so I order a small version of it, and then I peruse the makeup section, wondering if a new lipstick in red would be a nice pick-me-up. I find one that’s more expensive than it ought to be, but that’s Norway’s pricing for you.