High Risk

by Simona Ahrnstedt

  “Jesus,” was all she could say as his palm came to a rest on her, his wrist pressing down, gently, as she landed. She couldn’t think. All she could do was breathe.

  He leaned forward, kissed her tenderly, lay down on his back, and pulled her close. She lay heavily on his warm, bare chest, closed her eyes with her cheek above his heart, rested, let the last embers of her orgasm die out. She sighed.

  “Good?” he asked quietly.

  She nodded against his chest, couldn’t talk, could barely think. God, what an experience. She raised one hand and stroked him languidly. His chest was covered with short, dark hairs. She grazed one of his nipples and heard a stifled groan. Mmm, right. He hadn’t been satisfied yet. She liked him when he was like this, charged, on edge. She herself was completely boneless. She playfully spread her fingers across his skin, brushed his stomach. He started to breathe a little heavier beneath her cheek. Ambra propped herself up on one elbow and allowed her hand to move down, over his pants. He stopped breathing.

  “You’re so hard,” she whispered, stroking the material.

  “You don’t have to,” he managed to say.

  But Ambra wanted to.

  “Take off your pants,” she whispered, and he did as she said. Pulled off his pants, underwear, and socks in one lightning-fast movement. He was big and hard. Nice looking, too. A thin line of dark hair, a little more by the base. His cock trembled as she looked down at it, and she wanted to reach out and touch its smooth warmth, gently cup her hands around his balls. Not all men were good looking like that, but Tom was a fine specimen, and he was sexy as hell. “Show me how you like it,” she said.

  He hesitated.

  “Show me,” she repeated, grabbing his hand and moving it downward, encouraging him to take hold of himself. She placed her own hand on top of his and followed his movements.

  “Ambra,” he managed to pant.

  “Keep going,” she said, moving her leg on top of his, feeling his coarse hair against her calf, pressing her thigh into him. He groaned, but he did as she said and continued to move his hand up and down. And then Ambra took over. He was warm, almost burning, smooth in his hardness, and her hand slid up and down as confidently as his had. Tom closed his eyes, wrapped one arm around her in an iron grip, clutched the sheets with his other fist. Pressed up against him, Ambra continued her caress. She liked it, and there was a kind of primitive sexual satisfaction in making this big, capable man dependent on her, even if it was just for a while.

  “Oh God,” he moaned, but she continued, felt him tense, grow bigger and harder, and then he came, into her hand, onto his own stomach, in hot, pulsing spurts.

  “Oh God,” he repeated, his voice shaking. He was holding her so tight that she could barely breathe.

  “Tom, you’re crushing me,” she breathed, and his arm loosened immediately.

  “Sorry. Jesus. Wait, I can’t . . .” He panted, his chest heaving, and he brought one arm to his eyes. When Ambra laid her head back on his chest again, his heart was pounding against her cheek. She smiled at the sound. Tom’s hand moved up, over her ass, her back, to the nape of her neck, and he angled her face toward his and kissed her deeply. She smiled into his mouth, then into his skin.

  “Careful, you’ll get sticky,” he said. “Wait here.”

  He pulled away from her arms and disappeared. She heard the sound of water, comforting sounds, and then felt him slip back into bed beside her. She slid closer. He smelled like soap and toothpaste and was slightly damp, as if he had dried himself too quickly.

  “You’re cold,” she said, and then they kissed again; they didn’t say anything else.

  Maybe they didn’t have any words left, maybe they weren’t needed right now. She curled up in his arms and they lay there like that, silent and thoughtful as the fire died out.

  Chapter 37

  When Tom woke, the sun was on his face. The whole living room was bathed in pale Norrland sunlight. The storm had finally passed. He propped himself up on his elbows. Ambra was lying next to him, her dark hair spread out on the pillow. She was sleeping deeply. Even in her sleep, there was something hot-headed about her, but she no longer looked anywhere near as exhausted, and she’d seemed completely recovered last night....

  He studied her beautiful profile. What had happened between them was incredible. She was incredible. Bold, wild, sexy. He was turned on at just the thought of what they’d done, what she’d done, the way her hands had caressed him until he came in a powerful orgasm. He leaned forward and kissed her shoulder, breathed in the scent of her.

  He carefully crawled out from beneath the covers. Ambra was still sleeping, but Freja’s tail was wagging expectantly, and he went out into the kitchen and filled her food bowl. This thing between Ambra and him, what was it, exactly? Aside from the fact it was incredibly arousing, like a sexual fantasy come true.

  He’d woken that morning with a good feeling in his body, but the more alert he became, the more complicated the whole thing felt.

  It was one of the most powerful sexual experiences he’d ever had, but what did it mean? Sex complicated things, that was a given. Messed up his head, too. Not to mention the fact that many things felt different during daylight than they did at night. It had been so dark, with the power still out, and they had been so close to one another, cut off from the world. That was how it felt. As if what he and Ambra had done last night had nothing to do with any other time. He’d just saved her life, after all.

  He ran a hand through his hair and stared out the window. Last night, it felt like a good idea to throw himself at Ambra; actually, like the best idea he’d had in a long time. But now he wasn’t sure what to think about his own behavior.

  He turned on the faucet and filled the kettle. The power was back on, and he prepared the coffee machine. The snow was up to the window ledge. He would have to go out and do some clearing if they were going to get anywhere. He considered ignoring the snow, ignoring everything going on outside, just staying inside with the woman with magic hands. But that was hardly a long-term solution, and besides, a little manual labor would do him good.

  He went out into the hallway. Freja rushed after him and jumped up and down with excitement as he pulled on his coat. It took a good deal of force to open the front door and then to clear a path over to the garage. Freja barked like crazy at the snow everywhere, leaped into piles of it and then rushed back to the house as soon as Tom was done.

  He turned on the coffee machine and listened to it bubble, poured two mugs, and went back into the living room, where Ambra had started to stir. She had pulled on the fleece top, but her legs were bare as she stood by the window looking out. She turned around when he came in.

  “Good morning,” he said, handing her a cup of steaming coffee.

  “I see the power’s back,” she said, bending down over the mug and breathing in the steam with a smile. She was so beautiful like this, her hair a mess, relaxed, bare legged. He felt a pang in his chest.

  “I have service, if you need to make any calls,” he said.

  She smiled, pushed her hair back behind her ears, and he followed the familiar gesture with his eyes. He took a step toward her, wanted . . . but at that moment, his cell phone started to ring on the coffee table. They both automatically looked over to it. Ellinor, he read on the screen; there was a picture of Ellinor laughing.

  Damn. Tom glanced at Ambra, suddenly feeling uneasy. She just smiled and looked away, buried her nose in the coffee cup.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “No worries, answer it,” she said in a neutral voice.

  Tom went into the kitchen. “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s me.”

  He had always liked that greeting of hers, the way she assumed he would know who it was. But now it suddenly bothered him a little. “Hi, Ellinor.”

  “I just wanted to check that you were okay. What with the storm and everything.”

  It was unexpected. That she was calling. That she cared. “We’re f
ine. We had no power, but we made it,” he replied.

  “We?”

  He paused. “Freja and I.”

  She laughed. “What are you doing?”

  “Drinking coffee.”

  Freja barked, and he took that as an excuse to end the call. “I need to go, but thanks for calling.”

  “Good to hear your voice, Tom.”

  He hung up and headed back to the living room, deep in thought. Why was Ellinor calling him suddenly?

  “Is everything good with Ellinor?” Ambra asked. She avoided looking at him.

  “Sorry about that,” he said.

  Ambra shrugged. “It makes no difference to me.”

  Did Ambra expect them to talk about what had happened last night? Or should he act normal?

  What even was normal once you’d suddenly noticed how pink and soft her mouth was, how beautiful the curve between her ear and her neck? How were you meant to act if you were constantly reminded of how her breast felt in your hand, how her small nipples had tickled your skin; if you then remembered exactly how she sounded when she came in an explosive orgasm against your hand? How did you just act “normal” then?

  “How are you feeling?” he eventually asked, once the silence between them seemed almost endless. He had no idea what he should say.

  “I’m good. I feel almost back to myself. Thanks again.” She bent down over her coffee and took a small sip.

  “When does your plane leave?” he asked.

  “This afternoon. I need to get back to the hotel.”

  “I can give you a ride whenever you like,” he offered. Should he say anything else? That the experience had been incredible for him? That even if she’d done it out of gratitude, it was more than he’d expected? That he would never forget it.

  “Thanks. What should I do in terms of clothes?” She pulled at the long sweater. He would probably never be able to look at it again without having erotic associations, but he understood the problem.

  Relieved, he put the coffee cup on the table. A practical problem to solve, that was just what he needed.

  “Do you have more clothes and shoes at the hotel? I’ll look for some boots and drive you over. We can probably take the car.”

  * * *

  When Tom drove Ambra into Kiruna a while later, the bigger roads were already clear. The way they dealt with snow up here was like a military maneuver. The sun had already set, but the sky was still clear with some kind of half-light.

  “Thanks for the ride,” she said when they made it to the hotel. She tried to push back the sleeves of her jacket. They were constantly slipping down over her hands. “And thanks for everything. Everything you did.”

  “No problem,” he said, though he wanted to say more. Something about how he needed to think. That he had never questioned his love for Ellinor before, that his whole head felt such a mess. But all he said was: “I’m glad it all worked out.”

  “It’ll be good to charge my cell phone,” she said, stamping her feet on the snow. “I’ll leave your clothes with reception when I go,” she added. Tom glanced at the jacket she had borrowed, the enormous boots she was practically drowning in.

  “Sorry I had to cut up your clothes. I’ll replace them, of course,” he said.

  “Actually, I think the etiquette when someone has just saved your life is not to take that person’s money. It was just a pair of jeans and an old shirt. Tom, I’m really grateful—you know that, right?” She sounded serious.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I’m happy to give you a ride to the airport.”

  “Thanks, but not this time. I’ll take a cab.”

  “Sure?”

  He could see she had made up her mind, and maybe it was just as well.

  Ambra nodded. She held out her arms to him and they hugged. He held her tight, breathed in the scent of her.

  She took a step back. Smiled. “Don’t worry. You don’t need to feel pressured. I understand. We don’t need to make this into anything more than it is.”

  He didn’t know what to say.

  “If you’re ever in Stockholm, let me know,” she continued, with that new, slightly cheerful voice he wasn’t sure he liked. “If you want to, that is. No pressure. But if you want to.”

  He nodded. “Bye.”

  “Bye, Tom.”

  * * *

  Tom stopped off at the gas station and bought paraffin, a generator, and some milk before he headed back to the house, deep in thought. Maybe it was just as well. They were too different, he and Ambra. And she seemed relieved to be leaving, hadn’t seemed particularly concerned about whether they would see each other again. That was fine by him, he told himself, ignoring the fact it was a depressing thought.

  While he parked the car in the garage and then let Freja out, he considered what they had talked about.

  Had he said too much about Chad and his background? He’d trusted her more than he’d ever considered trusting anyone else.

  When he carried the generator inside and started to tinker with it, his thoughts turned to what they’d done last night, and he found himself smiling. The way her body reacted to him was so damn delicious, the combination of passion and tenderness. The way his body responded to hers.

  Later, he went out on the snowmobile, drove into the forest, and found the one she’d crashed. He trailed it back behind him. The whole way, his thoughts were elsewhere: on Mattias’s offer of the job in Stockholm.

  Tom hadn’t been home to Stockholm for a long time. But he felt better now, and he had things he needed to sort out. He’d come up here for Ellinor’s sake, but what difference did it make if he went down to Stockholm for a week or so? Maybe he needed a change of scenery. Plus, Ambra had said he could get in touch if he was ever in town. Maybe he would do just that.

  * * *

  That evening, he called Mattias.

  “Tom, how are you?” Mattias sounded happy, if not enthusiastic.

  “Am I interrupting?” Tom asked.

  “Not at all, you can always call me.”

  Smooth as ever, but wasn’t his tone a little curt? Calling Mattias had been an impulse. Tom scratched his neck, looked at Freja.

  “Tom?”

  “Yeah?” He heard low sounds in the background and glanced at his watch. It was seven. Was Mattias in a restaurant? Sounded that way. Low music, jingling.

  “Are you still there?” Mattias asked.

  “I’m here. But it wasn’t anything particular.”

  “You sure? What happened?”

  “Nothing happened,” Tom said.

  “Talk to me.” It sounded like Mattias had covered his phone for a moment, but then he said, “I have time.”

  “I saw Ambra.”

  Mattias was quiet for a long moment. Tom could practically hear the cogs turning in his head. “So you’re in Stockholm?” he eventually asked.

  “No.”

  “She came back to Kiruna?”

  “Yeah.”

  “To see you?” Mattias sounded concerned.

  “No.”

  “But you met?”

  Tom stared straight ahead. Yeah, you could call it that. They met, they kissed, they satisfied one another.

  “Tom?”

  “Yeah?”

  A deep sigh from Mattias. “Why did you call, exactly?”

  “To talk.”

  “But you aren’t saying anything.”

  “I’m thinking about coming to Stockholm.”

  “Do it. Listen, I’m in the middle of something, but come down. I’ll buy you lunch and we can talk more.”

  Tom ended the call with Mattias. He glanced at Freja. “What do you think I should do?”

  But it was a rhetorical question. He had already made up his mind. He was going to Stockholm.

  Chapter 38

  Jill studied Mattias as he ended the call with an apologetic look. He looked handsome today: dark suit, no tie, pale blue shirt, clean-shaven, a glittering signet ring with some kind of military thing on it.


  “Sorry. That was Tom,” Mattias said, turning over his cell phone. He hadn’t switched it to silent, but he wasn’t playing with it the whole time either. There was nothing she found more off-putting than a man who couldn’t put down his phone, so that was a bonus point for him there.

  “What did he want?” She stretched out one leg. She was wearing knee-length suede boots today, and Mattias seemed to enjoy her legs in them. Judging by the way his attention kept catching on them anyway. Jill smiled and raised her glass of champagne, the bubbles rushing toward the surface. Mattias had ordered for the two of them, and he was something of a wine snob. Not that he was stuck-up in his snobbery—plus you would have to be crazy not to like Pommery. She took a big sip, loved the wooziness it gave her. Woozy and happy, was there anything better? It was as if all her concerns had disappeared.

  “I have no idea what he wanted, actually. But I think he’s having an affair with your sister.”

  That made Jill pause with her glass in the air. “He said that?”

  “Not exactly. But I’m wondering. Have you heard anything about it?”

  “I haven’t talked to her in a few days. But Ambra can take care of herself. Though I think she could find someone better than him.”

  “Tom’s a good man.”

  “If you say so.” Should she be worried about Ambra? She wouldn’t begrudge her a little sex, on the contrary, but with Tom? “Your friend, isn’t he in love with some other woman?” she continued, studying Mattias through her lashes.

  “Actually, I don’t know. I thought so, but you saw the way he looked at her?”

  Jill nodded. She had. She played with her glass. They were at the very back of the posh Cadier bar, waiting for their table in the dining room.

  “What made you call me?” she asked. Men were always calling her up and asking her out. But those were men who, in various ways, were trying to use her. Mattias didn’t seem to have any ulterior motive. Though men were very rarely surprising. They wanted to impress, boast, and fuck, but it was rarely more than that.