“So this is Los Angeles,” Viktor muses as the mustang cruises down the freeway, the valley disappearing behind us, the city opening up in front of us beneath a layer of smog.

Being it’s Thursday evening, there’s quite a bit of traffic, but we’ve managed to miss the worst of rush hour thanks to our stop at In & Out. I think I took too much pleasure in watching Viktor wolf down his animal fries, cheeseburger and chocolate shake. I don’t know where he puts it all, but it’s apparent now that whatever Viktor eats immediately gets transformed into muscle. A steak? He just added an eight pack to that six pack. Must be a Swedish thing.

We’re staying in Hollywood at the famous Roosevelt Hotel, right across from where the Oscars are held and the Gruaman’s Theatre (which now has a new name but old habits die hard). I know most tourists come to this area and that’s probably why Viktor picked it but even though I haven’t seen Hollywood first hand, I do live in SoCal and so I do know it’s a cesspool of human garbage and gaudy commercialism.

“Oh,” Viktor says as the mustang cruises down Hollywood Blvd, eyeing everything like he’s made a huge mistake. “I didn’t quite picture this.”

“What, the guy taking a leak on the Starbucks door, the woman across the street yelling at people, or Captain Jack Sparrow who seems to be fighting a saggy-assed Spiderman over a quarter?”

He nods as he takes it all in. “Yes. All of that.”

“Welcome to Hollywood,” I tell him. “May we never leave the hotel.”

“May we never leave the hotel room,” he says, glancing at me. Though there’s the telltale smirk on his lips, his eyes have taken on an edge. The kind of edge that makes my stomach flip.

I tried not to think about it on the drive down in case I was going to psych myself out, but there was no mistaking what this weekend was about. Yes, it was about hanging onto Viktor for every last moment that I got.

It’s also about having Viktor in every single way I can get.

In New York, the few dates I’d gone on, some of them had ended in sex. Sometimes the first date, often the second. And I was nervous for each one. Worried about everything from how the guy was going to judge my body or my performance, to whether it was going to be any good, what kind of protection we were going to use, if it was going to be weird to be intimate with someone I didn’t know well. Sometimes I even worried if the guy would be an asshole if I decided to say no.

But with Viktor…it’s different. Every single thing about him is different. He’s nothing like the guys I’ve dated or slept with. What we have, whatever it is, is nothing like the relationships I’ve had before.

Don’t get me wrong, I am nervous about having sex with him. I want everything to be perfect, I want to make it so he’ll never forget me. I want him to strip all my inhibitions away and turn me into a wanton, greedy woman. But at the same time, it feels like it has to be this way. I mean, the first time I laid eyes on this man, he was buck naked. After that, everything sort of fell into place.

I know my cheeks are hot right now under his gaze. My body has been doing nothing but betraying me this past week.

He pulls the car around to the back of the hotel where one of the valets cheerfully takes the vehicle, gushing over the make and model and all that car stuff. The mustang is a gorgeous blue, the color of the deep Pacific, and a few middle-aged women waiting for their rides, big sunglasses taking over their face, are admiring it.

Or maybe they’re admiring Viktor. Everyone here seems to be somebody and Viktor definitely is. They might not recognize him as the crown prince of Sweden but with his stature and his ridiculous good looks, they probably assume he’s a movie star.

Of course I feel out of place at the Roosevelt. It’s not abundantly fancy but it’s got this hip, young Hollywood vibe, and let’s face it, the place is way too cool for me. I wish I had put more thought into my clothes on this trip instead of slipping on jeans, a tank top and Converse but I pretend that I’m so famous, I don’t even need to dress up.

“Here you go, Mr. Andersson,” the smiling receptionist says to Viktor as she hands him the key cards and for a moment I’m confused until I remember that he has to travel under the fake name and only I know who he really is.

The receptionist then seems to wink at me and gives me an impish smile. Jeez, they sure are friendly here. You don’t get that kind of greeting at my hotel.

Viktor waves away any help with the bags, which is odd because I assumed that he’s used to having people do stuff for him. I mean he told me he not only has a private secretary but a butler as well.

We walk through the hotel toward the pool area, past cool little outdoor bars with Turkish rugs, a multitude of dangling lights all over the place. People are drinking, socializing, some are jumping in the pool. Again, not the type of hotel I’m used to working in.

“I was going to get that room for us,” he nods at a door as we pass it on the second floor, the walls here are white concrete or brick, giving you the feel of being somewhere exotic. “It was Marilyn Monroe’s suite. Unfortunately, someone had already taken it.”

“Jerks,” I mumble under my breath. I love Marilyn but I’m just so damn happy to be here, I would have taken anyone’s room.

“Here we are,” Viktor says as he pauses at one of the doors. I could be wrong, but I swear he looks nervous.

He takes an anxious look at me, as if to say here goes nothing, and then swipes the key in front of it, opening the door.

We step into the room.

He flicks on the light.

It takes me a moment to take it all in. It’s a really nice room for sure but that’s not what grabs my eye, causes my hand to fly to my chest and makes me gasp.

A trail of purple flowers leads from where we’re standing at the door all the way to the bed, the white bedcover absolutely covered in them.

Then the smell hits me and my eyes adjust better.

Lavender.

Instead of rose petals, the room has been sprinkled with lavender.

I stare at Viktor in disbelief. “Did you do this?”

“Well, I had the hotel do it, but yes.”

I’m completely dumfounded by this.

He did this.

For me?

“Do you like it?” he asks tepidly, and now I see why he was so anxious before.

“Viktor,” I say, his name comes out breathless as all my emotions rush to the surface. “This is the most romantic, beautiful thing that anyone has ever done for me.”

He shoves his suitcase and my duffel bag off to the side and then places both of his hands on either side of my cheeks. I love it when he does this. His hands are so large, warm, strong; my face so small in comparison. I feel protected and adored.

Wanted.

Captive.

His.

The heated glint in his eyes spear me, holding me in place as much as his hands do, and he looks dangerously handsome, the lights in the room showcasing the sharpness of his cheekbones and the hollows underneath. He has a face that you could see someone like Da Vinci trying to paint, forever trying to capture his beauty but never getting it quite right because it’s Viktor himself that takes your breath away, it’s his spirit and soul that shines through the symmetry of his features.

His gaze drops to my lips, his gorgeously long lashes creating shadows against his golden skin.

“Mitt liv, mitt allt,” he murmurs in Swedish, his voice so low and rough it makes shivers shower down my back. “Mitt Maggie.”

I don’t understand what he’s said, all I know is that he means it.

His thumb runs across the edge of my jaw, pausing at my lips.

“I could kiss you for a thousand days and it still wouldn’t be enough,” he says. “I could gaze at you for a million days and it wouldn’t be enough. I could touch you, taste you, be so deep inside you that you’re fused to my skin, do this forever and it still wouldn’t be enough. Forever with you isn’t enough.”

Tears prick at the back of my eyes. I swallow, trying to stay strong. This shouldn’t be so hard. This shouldn’t feel like this. I shouldn’t be so lost, so head over heels over heart for this man.

We should have stayed strangers.

That thought sends a jolt through me. On one hand, had we never gotten to know each other like this, it wouldn’t hurt so much to have him leave. On the other hand…fuck. I wouldn’t have known this.

I’ve never had this before.

I’m not sure if I will again.

He’s right. If forever wouldn’t be enough, these last few days sure as hell won’t be.

“But,” he says, leaning in and softly places his mouth on mine, dragging his top lip over my top lip. Somehow he tastes like lemon drops. “We both know I don’t have you forever. Only for a few days. And I am going to spend every moment with you, trying to stretch it out into infinity. I want to feel your lips burn on mine the entire plane ride back home. I want the taste of you still in my mouth as I fall asleep at night.” He brings his face back just enough as one of his hands slips down to the hem of my top, tugging at it impatiently. “I would like to get started now.”

I laugh at his sudden formality. “Well okay then,” I tell him, raising my arms above my head so he can pull the top right off. “Let’s get started.”

He grins at me and yanks the top over my head, leaving me in just my bra. My best bra though, in racy red balconette lace. In the past maybe I would have covered up my breasts, feeling insecure or on display, but it’s impossible to feel anything but desired with the way Viktor is staring at me.

I shift backward and undo my jeans, shimmying out of them, so I’m standing in just my thong and bra. I feel like I’m burning up under the heat of his gaze, a look that both terrifies me and gives me courage. Feigning confidence, I hook my thumbs around the lacey sides of my underwear and start to pull them down.

“Wait,” Viktor says hoarsely. “I want to take them off with my teeth.”

Well, jeez.

Yes.

He gestures to the petal-strewn bed and starts unbuttoning the short-sleeve dress shirt he’s wearing. “Lie down. On your back. Legs over the end.”

I raise my brows. “Wow, demanding much?”

My defiance makes his eyes flicker. Gives me a quick, cunning smile as he steps toward me and places one hand on my chest.

“Lie down,” he whispers gruffly into my ear, giving me a small push downward until my knees are buckling and I’m falling, the lavender pressing into my spine. “On your back.”

He then reaches down and grabs both of my hips with bruising strength and yanks me so that my ass is on the edge of the mattress. “Legs over the end,” he repeats.

I haven’t seen this side of Viktor before and I’m taken aback, staring at his broad throat where his pulse ticks. I blink up to meet his eyes and I see fire crackling along the glacial blue, a wildness he’s kept so well hidden beneath his stately demeanor.

I like this side of him.

No, I love it.

He gives me that wicked smile again and then I’m met with a hard, punishing kiss that takes my breath away. I arch up for him, lacing my fingers around the back of his neck to keep from falling further back as his hands slips across my stomach, down between my legs. His fingers glide over the fabric of my underwear.

“This all for me?” he murmurs against my mouth. “All so wet for me?”

Everything is for you, I think.

The pressure from his fingers deepens, ripping a gasp from my throat.

God…oh…that feels nice.

Nice in a way that makes me realize how fucking hungry for him, for this, I am. I have no doubt that he won’t take long to make me come.

He pulls back and brings his mouth down my neck, over my collarbones, my breasts, the sides of my waist. He’s both kissing and nipping, sweet sharp pain that creates jolts of electricity between my legs.

His teeth raze down my hips and he takes the strap of my underwear in his mouth, his tongue curling around, and pulls it down. I bite my lip and bring my legs together to help him get it off. It doesn’t look that easy but it looks sexy as hell.

He manages to pull my underwear halfway down my thighs with just his mouth until he gets impatient and basically bites the strap, snapping it in half.

“Hey,” I tell him, looking up. Those were my only nice ones!

He stares at me with raw impatience. “I’ll buy you another pair.”

“From where? Disney–” but the rest of my sentence dies on my tongue because he yanks my thighs apart and buries his head between them, his hands on my thighs and pressing hard enough to leave bruises.

I immediately stiffen at the first contact of his tongue and then I start to melt.

Oh…I’m melting.

Right into his mouth.

He flicks the tip of his tongue over my clit and instantly I am dissolving into a sea of stars while a galaxy at my middle whirls tighter, tighter.

No, this won’t take long at all.

“You taste so perfect,” he moans into me and I instinctively grab the top of his head, my fingers winding in his hair and holding his head against me, though I think I couldn’t pull him away even if I tried. “So sweet, so beautiful. A lavender ocean. I could taste you forever.”

His words trail off into grunts and little moans, telling me how much he’s enjoying this, enjoying me.

“Oh god,” I cry out, feeling like I’m losing oxygen already as his tongue plunges deep inside me. My hips rock and I feel like I’m being too demanding for wanting more but from the way he’s gripping my hips, squeezing my delicate skin and pumping his tongue in and out of me, I know he wants to give it.

Something hot and electric starts to build in my core, working its way up my spine, and I’m growing more frantic for my release. I want to come so badly it’s driving me crazy and yet I want this to last forever, the sight of his head between my legs, his mouth wet and open and ruthless as he licks me out.

I am being devoured.

I am being ravaged.

I am…

God, “I’m coming,” I say, breathless, and the world pauses in that heavy, silent, slow-motion moment before the bomb goes off. “I’m–”

A cord is pulled deep inside me and I am yanked into another world, a shooting star made of fire and livewires and I’m calling out his name, “Viktor, Viktor, oh god, so good,” and I’m practically whimpering as I come back to earth, my body convulsing, my thighs squeezing both sides of his head.

“Was that good?” he asks a moment later.

I’m still struggling to catch my breath, my body oversensitive, my heart so loud and fast in my head that I can’t think straight. I look to see him staring at me eagerly, framed by my thighs, his mouth wet, glistening on a curved smile.

There are pieces of lavender in his hair.

“Yeah,” I tell him. “Yeah…I…”

There are no words.

But he has words.

“That was for you,” he says, his voice taking on this low, guttural tone. “This is for me.”

He stands up at the foot of the bed and starts stripping.

The shirt that was partially unbuttoned is now thrown to the floor.

His shoes are kicked away. Socks peeled off.

His hands go to his pants, unbuckles his belt with stealthy confidence, and my eyes go from his face to his chest to his abs to now his underwear as he pulls down his boxer briefs and steps out of them.

I know I’ve seen Viktor like this before. Naked.

But I’ve never seen him like this before.

Cock extended, large and hard.

For me.

I still stand by what I thought the first day that I saw him naked, that I would love to suck his dick like a fucking porno.

He can tell, too.

Perhaps he wants to pretend it’s that day all over again.

I bring it up as he walks toward me, his cock hard as it juts out between us. I’m barely able to take my eyes away from it.

“Pretend you were that stranger on the first day?” he questions. He shakes his head and stops right in front of me. “No. I don’t want a stranger to suck me off. I need it to be you. I’ve dreamed about that lush peach mouth of yours for days.”

Fuck. He doesn’t mince words. I wonder how dirty his thoughts are in Swedish.

I sit up and he wraps his hand around the base of his cock and holds it near my lips. “Suck,” he demands. “Min lilla persika.”

I swallow hard, unsure of what that means, unsure if I can fit him all in my mouth but I’m more than willing to try. I reach out and hold him in my hand, feeling his hot, smooth shaft pulse in my palm.

I’m turned on again in a second.

I look up and meet his eyes and he’s staring down at me with a look that can only be called carnal, his eyes urging me to go on.

My grip around his cock tightens and he lets go and slowly pushes his hips forward until his cock slides in my mouth. The salt of him hits my tongue, creating another wave of need through me and as he pushes through my lips, his hands glide into my hair.

He groans and I can feel him grow even harder, like steel. In my mouth he feels fat and swollen, and sometimes he’s pushing in hard, it’s impossible to accommodate all of him.

But I try, licking and sucking, the suction sounds and wetness filling the air and I’m pumping him into my mouth faster and faster, occasionally razing him with my teeth which only makes him moan louder.

“Fuck,” he says and then mutters something in Swedish as he abruptly pulls out. “I’ll come in your mouth later. Now I want to come in you.”

The thought, as much as I want it, makes me pause.

“Condom?” I ask. “I mean do you have one?”

Do we need one? That’s what I’m really asking.

He looks at me with glazed eyes until he blinks some clarity back into them. “I do.” He clears his throat. “I am clean though. I get tested regularly, it’s well, they’re very adamant about health check-ups. Are you on the pill?”

I nod. “Yes and I’ve been tested. Recently. When I came back to California.” I pause, not sure if I should continue or not. “I haven’t had sex since I came back. For over a year.”

He barely reacts. “Then I should make this worth your while.”

You already have, I think.

And then he’s pushing me back on the bed again, kissing me, licking me, consuming my whole body for the second time, his cock pressing against me here and there as we find our spots in the sheets.

He grips under my ass, pulling it up toward him and then gets between my legs, determination on his brow.

I’m so wet still that the slightest movement forward and he slips in.

Oh…fuck.

“Maggie,” he groans, pinching his eyes shut as he buries his head into my neck and I can feel his hot, ragged breath, already struggling for control. “The things I want to do to you, I don’t think I can do them all this time.”

“There will be other times,” I manage to say, my hands sliding over his shoulders, down his arms, pricking him lightly with my fingernails as he pushes in further and I spread around his thick girth. I’ve never felt so…full. So taken.

So his.

“Yes, tonight,” he says and the way the words hang in the air I realize tonight and tomorrow and the next night are all we have to do all the things we want to do with each other.

Life just isn’t fair.

“Don’t think,” he whispers in my ear before taking my lobe in his teeth and tugging. I feel like a million sparks are raining down my spine. “Don’t think, just feel.”

I am feeling.

Everything.

“I feel,” I tell him. “Just don’t ever stop.”

“Fuck,” he growls and then he slams his hips forward until he’s pushed all the way in. It feels like he’s pushed the air right out of my lungs.

I gasp loudly and he presses his hand over my mouth, over my cheek, holding my head down with force as he starts to fuck me at a punishing pace, his hips strong and relentless as they drive his cock in and out. My breasts jostle from each thrust, the bed starts to creak and move, I can hardly focus on anything, my grip digging in tighter in a wild attempt to hold on.

“You feel so good,” he grunts into my neck, one hand now pinning my arms above my head, while the other slides between us and starts tapping my clit. “Come for me again, I want to see your face as you’re coming. I want to see what you look like when you call my name, when I’m fucking you so good. Helvete.”

Holy shit, this dirty talking Swedish bastard is going to be the death of me.

He hisses and then stabs forward, sinking in so damn deep I’m not sure where he ends and I begin. I feel like I’m being folded in half. I cry out, half in pain, half because it feels so amazing that nothing, no one, will ever satisfy me again.

“Oh my Maggie,” he says before cursing some more in Swedish. “You were made for me, weren’t you? This, your amazing cunt, it’s so perfect, too perfect.” He groans, his head thrown back, sweat trickling down his throat and then snaps forward again, faster, harder. My hands trail down to his hips, his ass, grabbing on desperately.

Lavender is flying everywhere.

My thighs start to shake and the pressure from his slick fingers increase. There are no neat and tidy circles, instead it’s sliding all over the place with every relentless pump into me but I don’t need much.

“You like this, don’t you my Maggie,” he growls at me, staring at me with the wild eyes of someone completely raw and primal, operating on the basic instinct to fuck and fuck. “You love my cock, how it fills you, how deep I am inside you.”

I can’t even answer him. My world is spinning tighter until there’s nothing else but him and me. No hotel, no bed, no people in the world outside. Just us and the smell of musk and lavender.

My eyes shut and I grow tight and then it’s just “Oh god!” and my orgasm crashes over me again and I’m no longer myself, no longer in my body, the only thing I am is this boneless thing that’s spouting off words and sounds that make no sense at all.

“You’re so beautiful when you come,” he says and slips out of me. “Like your innocence is banished in front of my eyes.”

I’m still not quite here so it takes me a moment to realize he’s pulled out and then I’m disappointed and bereft at his absence.

But when I open my eyes, he’s hovering over me, slipping an arm underneath my back and flipping me over on my stomach.

“Up, to the wall,” he says gruffly and I feel his cock press against my ass for a moment. “On your knees.”

My legs are jelly and I don’t have much strength but I somehow manage to crawl to the top of the bed and get on my knees, facing the wall, my palms flat pressed against the headboard.

He comes up behind me and I look down to see each sinewy thigh capture me on either side, then he pushes down between my shoulder blades until my back is arched into a U and my ass sticks out against him.

I feel his fingers slide between my legs, then position his cock.

He enters me in a single long push and I’m flat up against the head board again, gasping. From this angle, I’m feeling him everywhere.

“Can you come again for me?” he whispers in my ear as he begins to pump. He wraps a hand over my throat. “What if it’s rougher? Would you like that?”

Yes, please. Anything. I would give this man anything right now.

I nod and the grip on my throat grows tighter as he starts rolling his hips into me, faster, harder. I can feel my ass jiggle with every thrust, the bed shakes and I can barely breathe and I’m overwhelmed and overheated and...

“Fuck, this, this,” he hisses at my ear. “You fuck so good.”

His thrusts become brutal and I feel like he might just break me in two or shatter me into a million pieces and he has lost his mind to me or I have lost my mind, my body, my soul to his.

Then his fingers slide over my belly, finding my clit once more, swollen and wet and wanting and needing and greedy, I’m so greedy for him, to come again, to…

I come in an instant and his grip on my neck tightens and I’m seeing stars.

And I’m loud.

The kind of loud that gets you noise complaints but in this second it doesn’t matter. I am stardust and delirious as the orgasm rips through me once again, turning me inside out. The world starts to blacken a little at the edges and I’m vaguely aware that he’s still choking me, still pounding me, with this ruthless force that causes the headboard to slam again and again.

Then his hand becomes a vice, just for a painful second as he pauses and then he completely let’s go of me, his pumps slowing.

I gasp for breath and he cries out, a rough and ragged bellow that fills the space around us like a battle cry. Right now he is more of a Viking warrior than he is a Swedish prince.

He collapses against my back and I’m pressed flat against the headboard and wall and sweat pools off his body and onto mine. He’s breathing hard, I don’t even know where I am. We take a few minutes to come back and when my thoughts and clarity return, I swear I’m a different person altogether now.

He pulls out and runs his hand down my damp spine before giving my ass a little slap. Then he falls to the bed, grabbing my arm so I collapse beside him.

“Was that okay?” he asks me, pulling me toward him so my back is to his chest, kissing my ear. “I don’t wish to be too rough with my Maggie.”

“You weren’t too rough,” I say, my heart is still a marching band in my chest, the sweat on my body starting to cool. “You were…you were good. You were making me come three times kind of good. Which is a lot better than good.”

“Always more, never less,” he says.

I smile at that and everything inside me seems to smile too. Beams of light and butterflies and happiness. I’m sated and content and I love how he goes from a wild man bent on fucking the hell out of me to one adoring and doting me with his tenderness.

“Next time, I will last longer,” he tells me, pulling me closer still so I’m nestled under his arm, my head on his chest.

“How much longer can you last?” I chuckle.

“For you? I want to last forever. I never want this to end.”

Damn.

That kicks me in the gut.

Now that the throes of orgasm are wearing off, I’m back into this sticky reality, the one in which the two of us only have a few days with each other.

There is no forever with us.

There never was.

I close my eyes and breathe him in.

He smells like lavender.