The Collector's Curse

【22】Laundry Day

The glow of the morning filled the room when I woke up. Because my stay in the Westergaard Estate would soon come to an end, I should have gotten out of bed as soon as I realized that. But the warm and familiar body against mine was too comfortable to rip myself away from it.

So, instead, I lingered in bed for a moment, silently admiring Ulrik sleeping, my head lying over his broad shoulder as I did. He looked so serene like this, but it was as though the sense of contentment we brought to one another followed him in his dreams. The ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, surely a remnant of our night.

He'd been tender and sweet at times but also demanding and rough when I needed it. At some point, things had turned so deep and powerful that I could only describe it as love-making. And it had been right then and there that I'd realized.

I was in love with Ulrik. Desperately.

It wasn't just the stellar sex, although that sure helped. No, it was his attitude toward me, how much he cared, how he worshipped me... I loved how cultivated he was and how clever our conversations were, as well as his generosity. I loved that he was willing to share his collection with me, to open the doors to all these ancient relics despite having no obligations toward me. I loved to hear his laugh, to smell the scent of his skin, to catch him secretly staring at me from afar...

My resolve to take things slow had been crushed by everything that he was, unable to resist such a man.

And who would blame me for it? I'd resisted for as long as I could, but his merciless courtship left me no other choice but to fall head over heels for him. My dashing Norseman.

About twenty minutes after I had woken up, he began to stir under me, his consciousness slowly resurfacing. Before he even opened his eyes, his arm tugged me closer to him, plastering my front further into his side.

"Good morning," I murmured in his ear. An indiscernible mumble answered me, and when I gently nipped at the lobe, he groaned. "Did you sleep well?"

"Always when you're in my bed."

My heart fluttered for the words as much as for the roughness of his sleepy voice. He still hadn't opened his eyes when my lips trailed a path of kisses down his throat.

"Mila, you're insatiable," he groaned when I pushed the covers away to give his flat nipple a lick.

"I can't let you start the day like this now, can I?" My hand cupped the firm shape of his erection over the duvet. "I would be a terrible girlfriend if I did."

Despite the foggy state of his awakening mind, he instantly processed my words, and his eyes whipped open. "Girlfriend?" he echoed, clearly stunned.

"Isn't that what I am?" I amusedly said, still kissing my way down his tattooed torso, following the outline of his defined abs.

I was forced to stop when he reached down to tangle his hands in my messy bed hair and made me look up. "It is?" he insisted.

The hope and emotions I could read in his eyes nearly undid me. It was impossible to deny just how much he wanted our story to evolve into something beyond the sex.

"Only if you're alright being my boyfriend," I answered, disliking the childishness of it. There was nothing boyish about Ulrik, so boyfriend was the wrong word for it. But it still felt so right.

It seemed he was at a loss for words because instead of saying whatever was running through his mind, he pulled me in for a deep and poignant kiss. In the adamant grazes of his tongue on mine, I found my answer. He was beyond relieved to hear my acceptance of him, of us.