Nordic Lessons

by Christine Edwards

  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 natu
re 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.

  I haven’t been seen with a woman on my bike since I ended it with Sansa nearly two years back, and what a fucking disaster that turned out to be. Everyone knows how little interest I’ve had in women lately. What they don’t know is why. No one has a clue that I’ve been waiting patiently to cross paths with exactly the right one.

  Bern shouts loudly to me over the blaring bass of the band, “Mikkel! Thank fuck you’re here! Need to go get ice! Bar’s heaving. Come tend for me, yeah?”

  He’s already rounding the end of the long, granite bar, large plastic bin in hand, heading down the back steps toward the ice machine.

  Perfect. I spot an open barstool next to Lisetta. My cousin can help me out tonight by keeping Elora company.

  We take the three steps up to the elevated platform of the bar area and I turn to face her. “Okay, I’m going to introduce you to my younger cousin. Hang here with her until I can get someone sober enough to free me up from bar duty.”

  The music is pounding around us as she nods once in compliance. I rest my hand against Lisetta’s back. “Hey, Lisetta.”

  She turns around and breaks into a beaming smile. “Mikkel! I’m so digging this new band you booked! Where’d you find them?”

  “Heard about them from Sven. They’re new, young. Trying to get their name out there. Listen, need a solid from you tonight. You in?”

  Her blond head cocks in curiosity. “Sure, what’s up?”

  I step to my right to reveal Elora, who has been standing patiently behind me. Lisetta’s eyes pop open wide in blatant interest.

  “Elora, this is my little cousin Lisetta. Lisetta, Elora. Have a seat. I’ll send you a drink and we’ll catch up when I’m able to break away.”

  Elora watches my mouth closely as I speak to her. The sensuality of what she has going on draws me in like a magnet.

  Fuck.

  “I’m good, Mikkel. Go take care of your business.”

  I give her hand a light squeeze, reluctantly let go, and make my way through the bursting crowd to the side opening of the heaving bar.

  This should be an interesting night.

  * * *

  The mesmerizing blonde leans in to ask me, “Snakker du Norsk?”

  “Um, I’m sorry, I’ve started to learn Norwegian, but I’ve only recently arrived here. Unfortunately I don’t speak the language just yet.”

  She smiles brightly and pulls out the adjoining dark leather bucket seat barstool. Her chiming voice cuts through the music, “No worries. I speak English. Come, have a seat here with me.”

  I hop up onto the tall barstool beside her and curiously have a look around. I quickly decide that it’s best to keep my purse in my lap. I can’t seem to locate one of those cute purse hooks anywhere. Ah, biker bar. Remember, Elora?

  “So, you and Mikkel are cousins?”

  “Yes. First, actually. My mother and Mikkel’s father are siblings.”

  I’m having a horrid time focusing on what she’s saying because my eyes are busy drinking her in. She makes ‘gorgeous’ seem like a sad, tired word. Shimmering blond hair cascades in waves a few inches past her bare shoulders. Cool blue eyes tilt up at the edges. She’s quite tan, nearly glowing with a healthy coloring. My eyes drop lower to admire her sexy, red silky blouse that melds effortlessly to her frame along with her fitted, sexy jeans. Quality.

  I watch as she unconsciously twines a strand of her golden hair around her index finger.

  “So, how long have you been in Oslo then, Elora?”

  “Merely two weeks. My brother Alexander works here. He’s allowing me to stay with him at his flat in the City Centre.”

  “That’s cool. I live there as well. Would you care for a drink?”

  “Sure, that would be lovely.”

  “What’s your preference? They stock most everything, but I would seriously avoid asking for anything too complex or girlie.” She leans back and with a smile unravels a strand from her finger and sweeps her hand out. “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes, I get it. How about an Absolut Citron on the rocks?”

  “Easy enough. I see he has that. Hold on a sec.”

  She stands halfway up onto the rung of her stool and leans into the bar. “Oh Mikkel, darling cousin, a round for the ladies, please?”

  I lean in slightly to see him slinging drinks at the end of the long, black granite bar. He moves with such ease, graceful despite his massive frame. He places two frothy, overflowing mugs of beer onto the bar and turns to grab a towel to wipe his hands as he closes the fifteen feet between us in a few strides.

  “What’s it gonna be, Lisetta?”

  “Two Absolut Citrons for my new friend and me. Oh, and a touch of fruit as well if you have it.”

  He nods once and turns to grab two glass tumblers from the drying mat on the back counter.

  She sits back down and leans close to me. “So, I can’t resist asking, how did you two meet?”

  “I was stranded on the side of the E18 motorway last evening. He came to my rescue.” I grin sheepishly.

  Her eyes twinkle as she asks, “Did he now? That sounds like him, rescuing a damsel in distress.”

  “Does it? How so?”

  “Since we were children, Mikkel has always been the fixer, making certain that everything is straight and on track. He’s an amazing guy, actually.”

  I ponder her statement as Mikkel places the drinks down in front of us. Planting both large hands wide on the granite, he leans in and murmurs, “Enjoy.”

  “Thank you,” I reply, once again lost in the burning intensity of his sensual eyes.

  I lift my glass to turn and toast my new acquaintance. She’s sitting very still, watching me carefully.

  I ask, “Is everything all right?”

  A lazy smile forms on her glossy lips. “Oh yes. Perfectly all right.” She lifts her glass. “To fun-filled fall nights. Skål! ”

  “Agreed. Skål!”

  We clink glasses. After taking a sip of my zesty cocktail, I confess, “You know that was my very first toast here in Norway.”

  “I know that it’s the first of many yet to come. You know, Elora, my best friend is foreign as well. American, actually. Her name’s Vail. I miss her desperately, so having girlie company is quite nice. Speaking English with you reminds me of hanging out with her.”

  “Where does your friend live?”

  “In California. I saw her not long ago at the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally. Have you heard if it? It’s in a state called South Dakota, up near Canada. An amazing scene. That place sets the bar for wild.”

  I shake my head as she continues on. “Anyhow, she’s engaged to Mikkel’s best friend Alreck. He moved to America to be with her. He had to go. He would’ve been destroyed without her. The love those two share is something amazing. The real deal, to put it mildly.”

  “Sounds romantic, like something that only happens in movies. Perhaps you’ll have a chance to go over for the wedding, then?”

  She grins. “Actually, they’re considering coming here for the ceremony. I can’t wait!”

  “Wonderful news. And when will that be?”

  “They haven’t set a date yet, but I hope it won’t be too long. I can’t wait to see her again.”

  I give her an understanding look before saying, “Yes, quality mates are rare.”

  She leans in and asks in a mischievous tone, “So, ask away. What do you want to know about him? Don’t be shy. We’ll keep this little conversation between us girls.”

  I take another deep drink of the chilled vodka, hoping for a touch of added confidence, and go for it. “Well then, for starters, how old is he?”

  “Thirty-six. And you?”
r />   “I’m twenty-eight.”

  “Did you know that he’s the president of Devil’s Wrath?”

  What?

  Pointing a finger at the ground, I blink and stammer out, “The president … of this motorcycle club?”

  She smiles proudly. “You know it, and a fiercely awesome one at that.”

  I study him from a distance. He is the most alpha man I’ve ever crossed paths with, so I can certainly see how he could be the club’s president.

  I turn to her, catching a hint of her light floral scent. “All right then, what else?”

  She giggles, “Hmm, let’s see, he’s über-private. He loves to cook. Has a serious passion for motorcycles that everyone in our conservative family tries desperately to understand. Oh, and he has a very dark sense of humor. He’s fabulous, and the best cousin a girl could hope for. Oh, I will say that I would never want to see him pissed off, though.”

  “Really?”

  She levels me with a serious look. “Yes, really. Can you imagine all that intensity consolidated into one lethal blow? But you have absolutely nothing to worry about. First and foremost, Mikkel is one hundred percent a gentleman. He treats his mother with the utmost respect and I’ve never heard him raise his voice to a woman, ever.”

  I hesitate a moment before deciding to go for it, asking her quietly, “He’s single then?”

  She seems pleased by my question. “Oh yes, and in my humble opinion, quite a hot catch.”

  Is she ever right on point with that one ….

  I hold her bright gaze for a moment before taking another sip of my drink.

  “I see that you’re also engaged, then?” I nod at her hand. “That’s a stunning ring, Lisetta.”

  She flushes prettily. “Thank you. Bern is my fiancée. He’s just over there.”

  She leans back and dips her chin slightly as I follow her gaze. “See the gorgeous stud with the blond hair and the beer in his left hand, talking to that group of three guys closest to the door?”