Nordic Lessons (5 page)

I adjust the shoulders of my little fitted, black silk Catherine Malandrino top. I adore the deep plunging ‘V’ neckline and the sweet hint of black lace trim at the neck and along the tiny cap sleeves. I’ve paired it with an ultra short, pleated schoolgirl miniskirt that has a lovely silver buckle closure at the right hip. I normally would only wear this with black tights but have decided to be daring tonight, flashing lots of skin. Why not? Knee-high black suede Salvatore Ferragamo sex-kitten boots with three-inch heels and a delicate silver zipper running all the way up the back complete my ‘take me down hard’ look.

I walk to my mirrored dressing table to spritz on a touch of Yves Saint Laurent ‘Parisienne.’ I hope he likes the ultra feminine scent that’s a lovely combination of sandalwood and Damask roses. I reach for my small black Chloe ‘going out’ handbag, along with my smart, black suede fitted jacket, and excitedly reach for the handle of the door.

With damp palms I think …
Time to face him. Head high, shoulders back ….

His golden eyes are consuming me the second I round the corner into my brother’s lavish, dimly lit sunken living room. I stop near the glass coffee table, my earlier confidence suddenly wavering under his devouring gaze.

He is silent and remains stock-still.

Just as I’m about to ask if the attire works for where we’re headed, his rich voice slices through the space.

“Come to me,
min skjønne
.”

The smoldering sexuality lacing his tone is undeniable.

On trembling legs I cross the twenty feet to stand directly before him. Looking up, I ask quietly, nearly in a whisper, “Do you like it?”

He tags my left hip, pulling me in close, and that wicked goatee framing his full lips lowers down slowly until I feel it brush lightly against my left ear.

Warm breath caresses me as he murmurs deeply, “You’re so gorgeous that it’s nearly painful to look at you, Elora.”

The effect of his distinctive voice, coupled with that delicious scent and the softness of his facial hair teasing my skin leaves me swaying slightly forward into his chest. I reach up to steady myself on his leather, just below his collarbone. I’m both dizzy and aching with need. My right palm rests on the seam of a red patch that reads ‘Torvik’.

In one motion he closes his hands around both my wrists, backs up and lets go of my left one to reach for the door.

I hear him mutter under his breath, “Fucking unbelievable. Need to move, now, or we’ll never make it to the party.”

We step out into the hall. I secure the lock and turn to ask, “Party?”

“Yep.”

“What kind of party?”

We walk the ten feet to the elevator. He punches the down arrow, threads his left hand through my long locks and lands me with, “Elora, take a good look at me, babe. It damn well isn’t going to be a cocktail event.”

I clutch my suede jacket tighter and fight a twitching smile. “Oh.”

His eyes roam my face as his fingers slowly skim across my hair. “I’m taking you to my club.”

“Your biker club, the one named on your jacket?”

“That’s the one.”

I smile broadly because I never thought I’d experience something like this. The heady flow of adrenaline begins to course through my body. Saturday night at a hardcore biker clubhouse?
You only live once, right?

As the steel doors close us in, he looks way down at me and asks softly, “You excited,
min
skjønne
?”

Ooh, I really like that.

“Very, Mikkel.”
Actually, I can’t wait.

He stares thoughtfully at me and quietly says, “That will do for now.”

“Sorry? I don’t understand.” I tilt my head at his odd choice of words.

With an earnest look he tells me pointedly, “You will.”

What in the world?

His smile is sincere. It’s the first time I’ve had a good look at his teeth and they’re gleaming white, even and perfect.

He continues to watch me as the elevator slows and then chimes, signaling our arrival at the main level.

“Enjoy your evening, Miss Thornthwaite.” Anders gives a polite wave, looking a bit relieved that the massive biker is leaving the premises.

“Thank you, Anders.” I nod to him as Mikkel leads us out into the brusque evening air. We stride together straight to his big, bad ride.

Turning to me he holds his hands out, “Here, let me help you with your jacket.”

I give it to him and swivel about; the anticipation of having his hands on me is intoxicating. I glance back to slip first my right, then left arm into the warmth. He slides it carefully up my arms, stopping once it is in place. His hands rest at my neckline for a moment before he ever so gently sifts through my long hair, succeeding in freeing it to flow down my back.

Turning back to him I’m struck by the mesmerizing intensity of his eyes. I should fear a man like him. Actually, I do, but it is an alluring fear. One that draws me to his undeniable magnetism, which hints at secrets I know nothing about.

Softly, I break the silence hovering between us, “I should tie back my hair; otherwise it’ll be an absolute mess when we arrive.”

I pull it all to one side and begin twisting it into an impromptu side braid. He watches me carefully, so very observant.

“Here,” he says, handing me his helmet, “wear this again and I’ll pick one up for you tomorrow. This way the wind and cold won’t bother you when we ride out. I’ll get you a helmet with a full visor. There’s only about a month left of good riding this time of year. We’ll make the best of it.”

I take the helmet, and double check that my bag is secure across my body. I can’t resist the thrill that courses through my bloodstream with the thought of riding out with him on a regular basis.

“Good to go,
min skjønne
?”

I pull it down onto my head. “Yes, I’m ready.”

He throws a leather clad leg over the hulking black motorcycle and I watch in fascination as he starts it up. The machine roars to life with a vibrating snarl.

“Just like before baby, swing your leg over and stay clear of the pipes.”

I hold onto his shoulders, enjoying the suppleness of his thick jacket. My pleated mini makes it easier to climb on this time. Within seconds I’m seated and leaning forward into his warmth, arms bound tightly around his waist.

Yes … that heavenly scent. I could smell him forever and not get enough.

After a glance back over his shoulder and then down into his left side mirror, we pull out into the road and head through the city. It’s eight o’clock Saturday night, and the sidewalks are busy with people heading out to enjoy the action. The deep roar of his fierce engine draws more than its fair share of curious stares.

At nearly every stoplight, someone guns an engine next to us. A young guy in a sporty Audi stares our way, revving his motor, intent on racing us. Mikkel is cool and confidently arrogant, ignoring those around us. I begin to think about how alien it must feel to be a hardcore biker in Northern Europe. There are a decent number of bikers in London, although I have never met any, only seen them cruising on their sexy rides through the streets. I have always envied the freedom their lifestyle allows.

I squeeze my legs a bit tighter against the outside of his. His sexy black leather feels amazing against my legs, warming my inner thighs with the smoothness of the hide, but even more, his radiant body heat. I burrow down into his back to avoid the cold and wonder if I arouse him as much as he arouses me.

My mind begins to wander down a sexy path as we take the exit onto the motorway. I conjure up the image from last night, how powerful he would be if he took me ….

His deep voice calls out, cutting through my heated thoughts, “You good?”

I lean closer and answer, “Yes, fine.”

“Good. We’re two minutes away from the club.”

I give a little squeeze of my bound arms as my reply. My mind drifts to Alexander. He would be aghast if he had any inkling of my plans this evening. There is no way he would stand for me having
anything
to do with someone like Mikkel.

My brother puts the ‘C’ in conservative. Also in control. His behavior is always fastidious. He would blow his top if he knew what I’ve been up to over the course of the past twenty-four hours. Since the death of our parents several years back, he’s become intent on weighing in on every decision in my life. As a grown woman I find it both annoying and exhausting, but he’s my big brother, my only close relative, so I let his overbearing nature slide most of the time. It’s a good thing for me that he is halfway across the globe.

Tonight, I’m in control of my destiny.

I tighten my grip as the motorcycle turns left off a quiet, two-lane road and begins a steep ascent, climbing high up a blacktop driveway lined on both sides with dense green trees. Halfway up I can make out a sprawling, dark structure. It’s far larger than a house, more like a large, chalet-style inn.

As we draw nearer I lean slightly to peek over his shoulder and take in the elevated, three-story clubhouse. A wraparound balcony winds around the high, main level. Draped over the center of it is a long black banner that reads in stark white lettering, ‘Devils Wrath, MC Oslo.’ A demon, exactly like the one that is on his jacket, flanks each end cap of the sign.

My heart breaks into a full sprint as he pulls into a spot close to the side steps. Directly in front of it is a metal sign written in English. “Mikkel T. Only—Park At Your Own Peril.”

Oh my ….

A surprised gush of breath leaves my lungs as his hands grasp each of my bare, chilled thighs to give a possessive squeeze before he dismounts.

“Enjoy the ride?”

I dismount with his assistance, quickly remove the elastic and sift my fingers through my braid, setting my red hair free once again. With my heart still pounding fiercely like a Japanese Taiko drum, I tell him—and I know I’m gushing—“Yes, there’s such a sense of power being on your motorcycle. Although I have to admit, I’m relieved that you’re the one driving. It seems like it would be far too much power for me to handle between my legs.”

Oh no, oh shit!

I watch his expression change the second the unintended double entendre leaves my lips. His eyes are smoldering, his breathing is more rapid. A perfect mask of male lust stares down at me. He’s absolutely stunning. His huge, hot palm reaches forward to glide through my hair, firmly cupping the back of my bare neck. He leans down several inches, closing any distance between us.

In a thick whisper, he says very slowly, “Oh, I have no doubt you can handle
all
that power perfectly, Elora.”

Muffled, thumping sounds of rock music engulf us as we become lost in each other’s eyes.

The heady moment is broken when he suddenly lets his eyes slide shut, drags in a deep breath, and changes the subject. “You’re proving to be the ultimate distraction,
min skjønne
. And I’m not easily influenced. We need to move now, we’re already over an hour late.”

Without another word, he grabs hold of my hand and turns to climb the steep flight of wooden steps. I glance out over the parking lot. Not a space to be had.
There must be over a hundred people here.

He stops before the solid black door and turns to face me, his warm fingers threading confidently through mine. “I’m tending bar tonight, Elora, but I’m gonna place you right in my line of sight and introduce you to some quality friends. That work for you babe?”

“That’s fine, Mikkel.”

He lowers his body down farther to whisper against my parted lips, “My girl’s so fucking sweet.”

His girl?
Yes, I absolutely adore that.

Thankfully, he turns before he can catch my wide-eyed expression. I’m finding it hard to maintain total composure around him because his persona is so unnerving and highly observant. In the next instant he opens the massive door and blaring music floods out. AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” engulfs us in its heavy, thumping rhythm. Excitement over what’s to come flows through my bloodstream. As an artist I suppose it’s simply my nature to crave novelty. And here I am, standing at the precipice of ‘wild,’ not a typical setting for a shy person such as myself.

Here I go ….

* * *

Shit. I knew we’d draw attention, but this is fucking unbelievable.

When we first entered the club, everyone thought I was solo, as usual. They were unaware of her walking behind me because I’ve got a foot on her in the height department.

Several rowdy shouts ring out through the blaring music. “You’ve made it!” Followed up with loads of banter, “Did you get lost, Mikkel?”

This is bullshit. Here we go ….

The moment they catch sight of her the curious stares and cat calls start up. I should’ve known this was coming. I’m fiercely private by nature and any attention that doesn’t have to do with building, designing, or riding motorcycles fucking pisses me off.

She doesn’t know it yet, but when a woman is on the back of one of our bikes, it means a hell of a lot more than just a fucking joy ride. From the looks of it, she’ll get her share of direct questions tonight.