by Layla Chase
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The Wild Rose Press
www.thewildrosepress.com
Copyright ©2007 by Layla Chase
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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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Naughty in Norway
by
Layla Chase
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Naughty In Norway [Destination Pleasure Series]
COPYRIGHT ©
2007 by Layla Chase
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Angela Anderson
The Wild Rose Press
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Scarlet Rose Edition, 2007
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
My thanks to the ladies, my friends, at Rose's Colored Glasses for the plotting ideas and all-around support for the stories I create.
Naughty in Norway
Dagali, Norway
If she had to watch his rock-hard ass for a single minute longer, she would attack. With hands, lips, teeth and, most definitely, tongue.
Two days spent watching taut muscles flex and bunch under tight ski pants were more than Dissa Booth could stand. Ten feet ahead, her ski instructor, Rolf Torger, shushed through the powdery snow across the outskirts of Norway's Hardangervidda National Park.
Although the air temperature hovered at freezing, her body burned from more than the exertion of an afternoon of cross-country skiing. Her breathlessness couldn't be blamed on the elevation. At twenty-eight hundred feet, the oxygen ratio was just fine. Had to be the gorgeous man in front of her.
She tried focusing on the beautiful scenery—thick, green pines contrasted against icy-white snow, craggy peaks highlighted against a cloudless azure sky. So different than the stone and glass skyscrapers of Dallas.
Nature was pleasant enough but displayed no comparison to the fine male physique in her sights.
Rolf glanced over his shoulder and raised his goggles. “How are you doing? Need to rest?” With easy moves, he lifted his skis from the tracks and stepped beside the trail.
His blue gaze captured her and held fast. Taken individually, his features were ordinary—honey blond hair, ice-blue eyes, proud nose, strong chin. Added together, the effect was arresting—that was the only way to explain his appeal. That and the sexy lilt to his accented English.
She couldn't deny the thrum of lust flowing through her blood. “Maybe a couple minutes for a few sips of water.” With less grace, she moved off the trail and unclipped her water bottle from her belt. Too many years had passed since her last skiing trip to the Rocky Mountains back in the United States.
This brief rest was a stellar opportunity. Yesterday, she'd been just one face in the group of four students. Today, she'd booked a private lesson. Better odds, but the nature of the activity didn't offer many chances for conversation. Her mind screamed for something more personal to say. “Have you been teaching long?"
"Years.” He perched the goggles on the top of his head, forcing tousled hair back from his tanned face. “Since I was a teenager."
Her thoughts went to what he must have looked like at that age, and she sighed. Where was the serious businesswoman who'd left Dallas less than two weeks ago?
"Ready?"
Her heart rate kicked up, and heat infused her skin. Was she ever! She glanced at his raised eyebrow and questioning gaze.
Oh, her shoulders sagged. He meant the skiing.
Fine, more personal sightseeing. “Right behind you."
Rolf leaned his broad shoulders against the handles of his ski poles. “On this last stretch, you are taking the lead. You need to get a feel for gauging the trail yourself."
"Oh.” Disappointment ran through her, then panic. Now, he'd be staring at her ass. She positioned her poles, leaned forward and shoved her skis back into the track. Why was she worried? He hadn't shown a flicker of sexual interest. “Sure, I can do that."
As long as she kept her butt clenched all the way back to the Dagali Hotell. With opposite arm and leg, she planted a pole and kicked off on her glide.
His skis crunched behind her. “Now I can enjoy the view."
At his statement, her skin tingled, and she fought against glancing over her shoulder to check out his expression.
Half an hour later, she shushed to a stop in front of the whitewashed, 18th-century chalet. With poles planted, she breathed out a tired sigh. Her mind still raced with the echo of his last, quiet words. After examining them from every angle, she couldn't be sure of his meaning.
Had he been flirting? The fact she had to ask confirmed she was out of practice with this whole relationship thing. Which only strengthened her resolve to rectify that problem.
"Will you be taking a lesson tomorrow?"
His husky voice caressed her ears, a warm puff of air tickling her cheek. A shiver ran through her, tightening her nipples into aching buds. “No, I'm touring the Halland family museum."
"Interesting.” With the tip of a pole, he unlatched her bindings and then crouched at her feet. His warm hand cupped the back of her calf as he lifted out her boot.
Surely he was just steadying her. Right? The heat of his touch spread through her leg. A slow spiral hit low in her belly. She swayed and grabbed his shoulder, touching hard muscle through a thermal shirt.
When had he removed his jacket? Before she could think, her fingers moved in a slow caress.
Rolf lifted his head, and his gaze met hers, darkening to a cloudy blue. A slow grin slid across his thin lips, and as he stood, his fingers trailed along her leg. “My boss is tough on instructors fraternizing with students. Since I am no longer your instructor, may I buy you a drink tonight?"
Maybe not ski lessons, but she could definitely think of other skills he might teach. “Sure, say eight o'clock?” Excited by the banked heat in his gaze, she headed toward the hotel, exaggerating the swing of her hips.
* * * *
Laughter and the driving beat of a bass drum erupted from the entrance of the resort's dance club. Dissa hesitated and scanned the room, noticing several small tables with lit candles. With surreptitious moves, she adjusted the bodice of her dress, too aware the walk downstairs had inched the plunging neckline dangerously low. The thigh-skimming dress of slinky, purple jersey screamed, “take me.” She'd bought the dress a little over a month ago when she accepted the promotion to her company's overseas division, but tonight was its maiden public unveiling.
Tonight she expected the sexy scrap of fabric to help her get laid. Not because she was the last of her American friends remaining single. Not because her new co-workers warned her she'd never want to leave Norway. And certainly not because her free-spirited mother was always encouraging her to embrace her sexuality. But bec
ause Dissa had finally found a man who piqued her lust.
"Think the wall will fall without your help?"
His voice's deep rumbling tones reached inside her head and tickled her eardrums. Goose flesh skittered over her skin, and she rolled her head to her right. “Maybe."
His gaze ran from her face, over her chest and down to her exposed legs, a grin lifting one corner of his mouth. “Pen, really nice. But drinks are served over there."
At the light touch of his hand on her elbow, she manuvered between the small tables. The further into the room she walked, the deeper inside her body she felt the music's loud bass.
A steady beat. Primal, driving.
"Let us order.” He guided her to the bar, his fingers slowly sliding away, and leaned an elbow on the polished wood. “Maybe some glogg."
Spiced wine with raisins and almonds wasn't her preference tonight. Finger tapping her chin, she shook her head. “Not what I want."
"And what does the lady want?"
If he only knew.
She cut a glance at his sexy smile, and her nipples perked to attention. A cocktail's seductive name from a trendy bar back in Dallas flashed through her mind. “I'll have an Erotic Fantasy."
A strangled snort erupted then Rolf quickly cleared his throat. His narrowed gaze slid from her to the tall, blond bartender who smirked behind the counter. “You heard of the drink, Ander?"
"Got it. Your usual ale, Rolf?"
He started to nod but stopped. “No, the lady is choosing something exotic. Give me a Brave Bull."
Dissa smiled at the coincidence in their preference. “So you like Kahlua, too?"
"On special occasions.” He winked, his gaze settling on her mouth.
The bartender set the glasses on the bar, and Rolf laid down a bill.
"Thanks.” She brushed her fingers along the back of his hand, thrilling at the jerk then relaxation of his hand. So, he felt the pull, too. “I'll get the next round.” She lifted the stemmed glass and sipped on the straw, closing her eyes to focus on the creamy explosion of flavors. “Mmm, that's good."
A low chuckle sounded. “Enjoying your fantasy, are you?"
For a moment, her thoughts drifted to another setting—one involving dimmed lights and silky sheets. She sighed then opened her eyes. His words provided the perfect opening. “Not as much as I'd like."
Rolf lowered his glass, eyebrow quirked. “Should I order you something else?"
"The drink's fine.” Now or never. Forearm braced on the bar, Dissa turned sideways and stepped close, nudging her knee along his inner thigh and resting a hand on his shoulder. She leaned forward, brushing her mouth over his cheek until her lips nibbled his ear lobe. “I'm wearing too many clothes to enjoy its full benefit."
A large hand rested on her hip, and a thumb circled on her abdomen. With gentle pressure, he eased her closer, capturing her leg between his muscled thighs. “That is a shame. Not much we can do here."
The sensation of being trapped by his hard body excited her. She fingered the thick hair falling over his collar. A slight dip of her knees, and her mons rested on top of his leg. She rolled her pelvis and pressed against the ridge lying along his upper thigh. The very impressive ridge.
As she rode his hard leg, the seam of her thong rubbed against her clit. Tension throbbed in her pussy, and she bit her lip to keep from moaning.
His grip tightened, and he rested his forehead against hers. “These moves are drawing notice. Remember, I work here.” He angled his body to shield her and wrapped an arm around her back, drawing her closer. One hand dipped inside the fabric of her dress and slid along the back edge until he grazed the side of her breast. Her bare breast.
"Pokker, no bra.” He groaned, a sound that rumbled low in his chest. “Not sure I needed to know that.” A single finger slid to the underside of her breast and rubbed.
Dissa thrilled at his bold manner. Sounded like his heat level might be approaching hers. As far as she was concerned, his actions were foreplay.
Pure and simple.
Or, hopefully, sinful and complicated.
At that thought, she sipped her drink and shivered, the pearling ends of her nipples tenting the front of her dress.
"That is a powerful drink.” His thigh lifted higher.
The rough seam of his jeans rubbed her sensitive, inner thigh, and she gasped. “Better not be tonight's only thing of power."
Rolf leaned close, his chest pressing her into an arch, and whispered, “Such a sassy mouth.” Through her skirt, his fingers traced the elastic of her thong, bunching the fabric into his grip. Lips set in a firm line, he scanned the area. A shift of weight, and he angled their bodies sideways so his wandering hand was obscured from view. “Maybe you need to be taught some respect."
If this sexy man was the teacher, she'd be first to enroll. At the glide of his finger along the curve of her ass, she gasped and savored the need thrumming through her womb. Holding his gaze, she reached for her glass, tipped it up and let the rich liquors slide down her throat. Lifting the glass above her lips, she stuck out her tongue, waiting to catch the last sweet drop.
"Dissa, you are driving me insane.” He breathed out the words on a raspy note. His strong fingers spread wide over her hip. A thumb trailed along the inside of her thigh, skimming the edge of the elastic and rubbing lightly over her mons.
Loving the sensation of his hands on her body, she sucked in a breath and bit her bottom lip, flexing her hips. “Harder."
Rolf let out a low rumble from deep in his chest. His hand grabbed her ass and squeezed. “What is your room number?"
Her chest tightened. “202. Why?” The glass rattled when she set it on the wooden bar. Had she pushed him too fast? “Aren't you coming?"
"Ja, I am coming.” His jaw clenched. “I will buy fresh drinks and meet you there.” Brows drawn together, he looked away then back, his gaze intense. “After a quick stop at my room."
Realization dawned and she eased away, reluctant to move from the touch that kept her blood racing. “Don't be long.” With a seductive sway in each step, she glided across the floor. At the doorway, she started to turn, intending to give Rolf a flirty wave.
But he was right there. His hands grasped her waist and propelled her into the hallway. “Keep that sweet ass moving forward, honnig. Unless you want to be attacked by every man in this club."
Her lips spread into a wide grin. “Nope, just one.” She jogged up the stairs and pivoted at the landing, knowing her skirt hem would flare out and away from her thighs. The rush of cool air brushing her ass indicated she'd exposed more than she'd intended.
The idea she might have flashed a stranger was a sheer thrill. A shiver ran over her heated skin, and her nipples tightened into hard points. Where had this newly discovered hedonistic woman been hiding?
Rolf thundered up the stairs and aligned his firm body behind hers. “Save the displays of creamy flesh for me. Now walk."
Ten delicious steps later, they reached the second floor then moved down the hallway to the far end. Rough-textured jeans rubbed the back of her stocking-clad legs, muscled thighs lifted her knees and the hard length of his cock teased the crevice of her ass. Every inch of her skin thrummed with anticipation.
In front of Room 202, they stopped, their heavy breaths echoing in the narrow space.
With a shimmy, she bent at the waist, wiggling her ass against his groin and inching her skirt hem up her thighs.
A hand slapped against the wall. “What the hell?"
Twisting her wrist, she inserted two fingers into the lacy top of her thigh-high stocking and slid out her key card. Flashing a cheeky grin over her shoulder, she winked. “Just getting my key."
"Open the door, Dissa.” The words ground out through his clenched teeth. He leaned his body along her back, running caressing hands along her sides.
Although his tone was rough, nothing else about his behavior caused her worry. For only a moment, she savored the closeness of his enveloping
heat and then swiped the plastic card through the slot. Her hand trembled just before she entered the suite.
Rolf was her one-night walk on the wild side, her down-and-dirty fun with a working-class man.
The moment the door clicked shut, his strong hands grabbed her waist and spun her around. “I cannot wait a second longer.” Rolf cupped her cheeks with his hands, holding her still. The probing look of his ice-blue eyes bored into hers, searching for several moments. Then, as if in slow motion, he leaned close, his gaze moving from her eyes to her lips and back. His mouth captured hers, his tongue quickly outlining her mouth and pressing for entrance.
His kiss tasted of smooth coffee and sharp tequila, warm lips and firmer tongue. She welcomed his invasion, wrapping her arms tight around his waist. Her hands roamed over his crisp shirt, covering his muscled back.
But she wanted more.
Hot and insistent, his tongue stroked deep inside then retreated to tease the corners of her mouth with jabbing forays.
Dissa grabbed fistfuls of cotton fabric, pulled his shirt free from his belt and slid her hands beneath.
To his bare skin. His warm skin.
A smooth and pliable covering over rock-hard bands of steel.
"Ahh.” A moan escaped into his open mouth, and her tongue dueled with his. Bracing splayed hands across his back, she rose on tiptoes to press closer.
One hand dropped from her cheek and cupped her breast, his fingers working caresses inward from her side toward the nipple.
A nipple that drew taut in anticipation. Instinct urged her to ease her torso toward his touch. Only an inch or so...
Brisk knocking sounded on the door. “Room service."
His movements stilled, and he leaned his forehead against hers, puffs of heated breath brushing her sensitive mouth.
With reluctance, she opened her eyes and met his intense blue gaze. A whimper at the loss of his touch slipped between her lips.
Three more brisk knocks sounded.
"Coming.” Pressing a tender kiss to her cheek, he eased her from his grasp and turned toward the door.
