Northern Lights (4 page)

It’s only when Kári slides his tongue along my lower lip that I realize he’s not pushing me away. He’s not disgusted and fighting to get free—not that it would be much of a fight for him—but is actively kissing me back.

I part my lips, more in surprise at the turn events have taken than in acquiescence to his wordless request, and a moment later his tongue is in my mouth, lapping, exploring. I’m not sure when it happened, but his arm is behind my back again, and he raises my torso, drawing me tight against his chest, deepening the kiss. And then I’m seeing stars. No, not stars—the Northern Lights. The green and red flashes burst like New Year’s Eve fireworks on the backs of my closed eyelids.

When Kári releases me and pulls away, I can’t repress the whimper that escapes my lips. However, the way I’m gasping suggests it
was
time to stop and come up for air. He sits back on his heels, breathing heavily too. His face is flushed, the crimson in his cheeks only adding to the brightness of his eyes, and his hair is tousled where I raked my fingers through it.

“Um…,” I offer, biting at my lower lip as I try to decide what to say.

Should I apologize for jumping him, even though he seemed
far
from upset about the move, judging by his reaction? Do I compliment him on his technique? Because, hell, that was, hands-down, the most amazing kiss of my life. Or would it be better to play it cool, act like it was nothing special?

“Um?” Kári prompts, and then he smiles.

We both start laughing at the same time, and any awkwardness is immediately swept away.

I try again when our laughter fades. “So. That was… nice.”

“Only nice?” Kári shifts closer and leans on the edge of the cushion, looking up at me, a playful glint in his eye.

“Well….” I pretend to mull it over. “Very nice?”

“Only very nice?” he asks, sitting up and bending over me, his lips just millimeters from my own.

“Perfect.” The word leaves my lips on a sigh as I surge up to claim another kiss.

This one is slower than the last, less hungry and more sensual. I feel a shift in his weight, and a moment later he’s rubbing his hand over the bulge in my groin. I groan and arch into the touch, wanting more, aching for skin on skin, wondering how quickly I can get him inside me. But even as I anticipate the delicious stretch as he fills me, alarm bells start ringing in my brain, and I reluctantly break the kiss and reach down to ease his hand away.

“Something is wrong?” His frown dislodges more of the herbal paste from his forehead, and I stretch out my fingers to brush the loose flakes away.

“Not wrong—God knows I want to—it’s just….”

“Your injury?” he asks, and it’s impossible to miss the hopeful note in his voice.

“No, screw the leg. Believe me, I wouldn’t hesitate if it was just that.” I pause and wet my lips, hunting in my mind for the right words, the best way to describe what I’m feeling. “I like you, Kári, and clearly someone else does too.” I gesture down my body, and Kari laughs. I manage a half smile myself before continuing. “But I only split with Richard yesterday, and I want to be certain this isn’t just some rebound thing, you know? As hot as you are, I want more than a quick fuck I’ll regret in the morning. It wouldn’t be good for me, and it wouldn’t be fair to you.”

Does he know?
I wonder. Kári’s English has been excellent so far, but is it good enough to understand such terms? Can he follow what I’m trying to say?

“Ah, you think we get to know each other better first, yes?”

I breathe a sigh of relief. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

“No, that is good. Better. How long do you stay in Reykjavik?”

“Six more days.”

This time his frown is accompanied by a slight pout, the sight of which is almost enough to make me cast all my good intentions aside and
beg
him to put those lips around my needy cock.

“You cannot stay longer?”

I’m about to answer in the negative when I reconsider. What’s to stop me staying longer? It’s not like I have a job to go back to, or any other commitments to force me home. The only issue will be accommodation. No way can I afford to stay at my current hotel past the end of this week. Part of me wonders if I’m losing my mind. I met Kári… what? An hour ago, two hours at most? And yet I’m contemplating the weeks we have ahead of us—the months, even. It’s all happening so fast. Too fast? Maybe, but then again, everything about this, from my tumble to the fact that Kári was in the park only because of the Solstice, feels… fated. And even if it ends up coming to nothing, at least I can say I gave it a chance.

“I can stay longer,” I say, and I’m unable to repress a smile of my own in response to his broad grin. “But I’ll need to find somewhere cheap to stay. Richard, my ex, he paid for the hotel for the week and left me some money, but—” I break off, shame robbing me of my voice.

“But?”

I shake my head and pick at a loose thread on my jacket sleeve. “I have no money of my own. I don’t have a job. Not a paid one, anyway. That’s the main reason Richard left me.”

“That is okay. You can stay here.”

I look up sharply. “But you hardly know me.”

“You stay with me, and soon I know you and you know me.”

I am desperate to say yes, but the memory of Richard’s words during our last argument holds me back. God knows I didn’t set out with the intention of scrounging off him, but that’s the way it turned out. I don’t want to make the same mistake with Kári.

“I don’t want to put you out of pocket.” He looks at me blankly, so I try again. “I don’t want to take your money.”

Kári shrugs. “You stay as my guest now. Later, you find work. What can you do?”

“Well, I studied journalism, but I quickly discovered it wasn’t the life for me. The wages were terrible, and as for the hours…. I do like writing, only that doesn’t exactly pay the bills, not so far. I like photography too, though I think the fall wrecked my camera.”

“This is easy. The park needs new leaflets for English tourists. You can write and take the photos. Use my camera. I call my boss and it is done, yes? If you decide you still like me, if you want to stay longer, we find something else for you after.”

“And immigration? I can’t remember the details, but I know there’s a limit on how long I can stay without a visa, or paperwork, or something. Hell, I’m not even sure if I’m allowed to work here.”

Kári waves away this concern as he did the last. “We fix. No problem.” He laughs. “You worry too much, James. You must relax.”

I don’t know whether it’s Kári’s accent or just the fact he calls me James—rather than Jimmy, as everyone else does—but there’s something about hearing my name on his lips that makes my pulse race. I can’t wait to hear how it will sound in other situations, when he whispers it into my ear, or yells it as he comes inside me. I know it’s mad after so short an acquaintance, but being with him feels “right” in a way it never did with Richard, and I’m filled with a greater sense of hope than I’ve had in a long time. The world that yesterday I thought had abandoned me and left me to rot is suddenly full of tantalizing possibilities once more.

A glint catches my eye, and I look across the room to see bright patches of sunlight slipping in from behind the curtain. “It’s morning? Already?”

“Yes, Mother Night is over and the sun returns.” Kári stands and stretches. “I will make breakfast. Then we go to the hospital.” I start to protest that I feel fine, but he silences me with a look that brooks no argument. “We make sure. Then we go to your hotel and get your things. If you do not change your mind…?” He pauses and looks down at me expectantly.

“No, I’ve not changed my mind.”

“Good! Today I must work, but Christmas we visit my sister. You will like her. She is very funny.”

“Christmas? But I thought you were pagan?”

“I am pagan. My sister is Christian.” He shrugs. “It makes no difference. We still enjoy good meal together, give gifts.”

I nod. He’s right at that: it doesn’t make any difference. In fact, I find myself fascinated by the idea of learning more about his religion, and the first traces of a storyline for a novel begin to form in my mind. It seems I was right—Reykjavik
is
going to be a source inspiration for my writing, just not in the way I’d originally expected.

Forty minutes later, we’ve eaten a hearty breakfast and Kári has helped me into the compact bathroom—fully plumbed, not an outhouse in sight—to freshen up. My ankle is still swollen, but it’s less sore than when I first awoke in the park, and I can manage to hobble around with only minimal assistance. Kári insists we get it checked out by a qualified doctor, but he doubts they’ll need to admit me, and I’m hoping his assessment is correct.

“Are you ready?”

Kári emerges from the bathroom, and I can’t help but feast my gaze on him. He’s washed off the remainder of the gunk from his forehead, and his complexion is still rosy from the scrubbing, highlighting his beautiful blue eyes.

He catches me staring—I was hardly being subtle, after all—moves closer, and settles beside me on the sofa. He cups my cheek, leans in, and presses a gentle kiss to my lips.

I grip his arm, feeling the firm muscle even through the multiple layers he’s wearing, and inch forward to slot myself against him. As clichéd as it sounds, I can’t help but think we were made for each other, we fit together so perfectly.

“You know what?” I say when we break apart. “I think this is going to be the best Christmas ever.”

31 stories of holiday love!

www.dreamspinnerpress.com

A
STA
I
DONEA
(aka Nicki J Markus) was born in England, but now lives in Adelaide, South Australia. She has loved both reading and writing from a young age and is also a keen linguist, having studied several foreign languages.

Asta launched her writing career in 2011 and divides her efforts not only between MM and mainstream works, but also between traditional and indie publishing. Her works span the genres from paranormal to historical and from contemporary to fantasy. It just depends what story and which characters spring into her mind!

As a day job, Asta works as a freelance editor and proofreader, and in her spare time she enjoys music, theater, cinema, photography, and sketching. She also loves history, folklore and mythology, pen-palling, and travel; all of which have provided plenty of inspiration for her writing.

Website: www.nickijmarkus.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/NickiJMarkus

Twitter: @NickiJMarkus

Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/author/show/4567057.Nicki_J_Markus

LinkedIn: www.linkedin.com/in/nicolamarkus

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REAMSPINNER
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.