Redemption, page 11
part #2 of The One More Night Series Series
“This is it,” I whispered against his lips. “The beginning of us.”
Epilogue
JONAS SLOWED THE boat as we neared the cove of the tiny island, sending a cascade of ripples out in all directions. I touched my hair, feeling out the scale of disaster after the windy ride. Ugh. Hopeless.
The sleepy little island was mostly pine trees and rock, with a few cabins peeking out at the shore, most painted bright red with white trim. Except the one we were headed toward. The bigger, modern creation on the shore came into view. I stood up, holding onto the bow window to steady myself.
It was real. The summer house wasn’t just an insane dream I had last New Year’s Eve. The little island in the Stockholm archipelago, the July sun warming my back, and the man standing next to me – all real.
Jonas had spent most of June getting the place ready. His letters had detailed projects like repairing the boat mooring and building a new deck across the rocks, and the effects on him were clear. His hair had bleached light blond, and his skin was golden. Not just his arms. I had gotten a peek under his shirt as he lifted the bags into the boat, and his stomach was just as deliciously sun-kissed.
He must have been working outside without a shirt all month. If I had exposed myself to the sun for that long, my skin would be a shocking beet red by now. Not his. I had already pictured the scene a dozen times since we pushed off the Stockholm dock. Jonas, shirtless in jeans, lifting a pile of wooden planks, his tattoos glistening with sweat—
“This is it,” said Jonas over the noise of the motor, cutting into my fantasy world.
My heart thumped hard as we approached the narrow dock. It had a little ladder into the water, for swimming, presumably, and the newly built walkway connected it to the steps to the deck. Above that stood a house far bigger than any place I’d ever lived.
“It’s beautiful, Jonas,” I said.
He nodded. “It’s quiet around here. I think an older poet owns the place next door, but I’ve never seen him.”
He pointed to the little red cabin, small and unassuming next to the big, modern house. Jonas and my summer house. Far away from everything.
“I still can’t believe you bought this place,” I said as Jonas tied up the boat.
He pointed to the bags stowed under the deck, and I handed them to him, one by one. When the boat was emptied, he helped me out. As I stepped onto the dock, he pulled me in close, against the warmth of his body.
“I still can’t believe you came,” he said, letting a kiss linger on my lips. “I can’t believe my crazy plan to be with you worked out.”
“I’ve never been somewhere like this.” It was the kind of place people with money owned. This was the kind of thing I had never even thought to want. It was so, so far out of reach for a girl from Brooklyn. And yet, there I was. With Jonas.
“Just tell me if the quiet starts to drive you crazy,” he said.
“And then you’ll buy us another place in the city?”
Jonas laughed. “If that’s what you want.”
He let me go and picked up the cooler. I grabbed my suitcase and followed him up toward the house. I rolled my little bag along the new walkway that winded through the rock and bumped it up the narrow steps to the deck. I stopped at the top and turned around. Jonas’s boat floated peacefully next to the dock.
“Is the water cold here?” I asked, turning to him.
Jonas shrugged. “Not bad. Why? You want to swim?”
“No way,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t know what’s in that water.”
He chuckled and gave my shoulder a squeeze. “I sense a new project on the horizon.”
Two French doors opened up into a living room with high ceilings, almost bare aside from a long, grey couch, facing the water. The room flowed into the kitchen, also open, with a table and two chairs in the corner. In the middle of the counter was an enormous fern.
Jonas set down the cooler and watched me, rubbing his jaw. “It’s a little bare. I thought you’d like the plant.”
“I love it,” I said, my voice shaky.
He nodded a little. “Let me put the groceries into the fridge, and then I’ll show you the rest of the place.”
Abandoning my suitcase in the doorway, I headed for the couch. I propped up the pillows at the end and leaned back to watch him. Jonas squatted down next to the cooler, lifting, rearranging, giving me glimpses of the muscles under his shirt. He glanced over his shoulder, catching my stare, but I didn’t turn away. He smirked a little and went back to work.
“How did you get the money for a place like this?” I asked. “Writing books doesn’t bring in that much, does it?”
Jonas shrugged. “International translations, the rights to make my whole series into movies. It brings in more than enough for a while.”
I wrinkled my brow.
“I know it looks extravagant, but it really wasn’t so much. This place isn’t for everyone. It’s a little deserted out here on this island. Many people would see that as a downside.”
When he finished unpacking the cooler, he headed for the couch and sat down on the edge, next to me, so I had to move over. He turned and stroked my cheek. “I bought this place to give us the best possible shot at being together. That’s what it is. A place where we have a chance.”
“It’s amazing,” I whispered. “I’ve never been anywhere like this before.”
He stroked my arm slowly, his long fingers curling around me, caressing. “Ready for the tour?”
I covered his hand with mine. “I have a bit of news, first.”
He squeezed my arm, and his forehead creased. “Good or bad?”
“Good, I think,” I said. “It’s about work.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Did you quit?”
“Sort-of.”
He continued to caress my arm, his hand warm and heavy against my skin, waiting.
“I’m going to work as a freelance editor instead,” I said. “Still with Boars and Allen, but I don’t need to be at the office anymore.”
Understanding registered in his eyes, and the wrinkles disappeared from his brow. “So you could work from here?”
I nodded. “If neither of us want to strangle the other after two weeks.”
“Wow.” He rubbed his other hand over his eyes.
“That’s the good kind of wow, right?” I asked.
He met my gaze, his dark blue eyes warm. “The very best kind.”
He brushed his lips against mine and gave my arm a last squeeze before letting it go.
“Come on,” he said, standing up. “Let me show you around.”
Jonas grabbed my bag and held out his hand. We peeked into his office and a bathroom before heading upstairs.
He pointed into an empty room to the left. “Your office, if you want.”
I poked my head in. The room was probably as big as my apartment back in New York.
“This alone is worth not strangling you,” I said.
Jonas smiled and nodded toward the other side of the staircase. “And the bedroom.”
Like the rest of the house, the room was painted all white, with high ceilings, and most of the wall facing the water was covered with windows. A pair of French doors led out to a little balcony with two wooden chairs. In the middle of the room was a king-sized bed, covered with an enormous red comforter, with more than enough pillows piled at the head. Next to the bed were matching white bedside tables. Books were stacked on one, and a vase of red roses stood on the other.
I took a couple deep breaths and walked over to the closet, opening the doors. On one side, a few of Jonas’s shirts hung on hangers, and the rest of his clothes were neatly folded on the shelves. The other side was bare.
I was the missing half of this room. He was waiting for me.
Jonas set down my suitcase in front of the closet and came up behind me. His hands slipped around my waist, moving up and down my sides in slow strokes.
“You can change anything you want,” he said, his voice huskier.
I swallowed and shook my head. “No. It’s perfect.”
“It is now that you’re here,” he whispered. He moved my hair off my neck and pressed his lips onto my skin.
“Wait.”
I freed myself from his hold and reached for my suitcase. Unzipping the front pocket, I pulled out a bundle of letters. He looked from the letters back to me.
I smiled. “They’re yours. I want you to read them aloud to me.”
Jonas raised an eyebrow at me.
“The good parts,” I added.
He laughed. “You know where that’s going to lead.”
“To more good things.” I walked over to the nightstand and set the letters next to the roses. I smiled at him over my shoulder. “I brought you some candy, too, if that’s what you’re in the mood for.”
He shook his head and followed me over to the bed.
I took a deep breath. “When I read your letters, all I could think about was your voice.”
I pulled out one from the pile and unfolded it. I skimmed the first side and flipped it over. “Here’s one.”
He looked over my shoulder to where I pointed. “We’re starting with that?”
His blue eyes blazed with heat, and he sat down on the bed. He rolled onto his back and propped his head on a pillow. I faced him on my side, tangling our feet. No one on earth smelled as good as Jonas did. Slipping my hand under his t-shirt, I explored the relief of hard stomach muscles and golden blond tufts of hair.
“Ready when you are,” I said.
After one more sideways glance at me, he cleared his throat and began to read.
“‘Have I told you how often I dream of you? I probably have, but I’ll tell you again.’” His voice was low and rough. “‘We can be anywhere. Paris. New York. Even places we’ve never been together before. The Stockholm archipelago in the middle of the summer. It’s beautiful there, by the way.’”
His eyes darted to mine, and he smiled.
“‘Sometimes I have the loneliest kinds of dreams, where you say you’ll be right back and disappear and I never find you. But more often, they’re the other kind.’”
Jonas paused again, his eyes on me for an extra beat. I propped myself on my elbow and brushed my lips against his.
“Keep going,” I said.
“‘The kind that I wake up hard from.’” He let out a quiet groan and continued. “‘Last night I had one of those. We were at the place I bought for us. You were in the water, and I was on the dock. No one else was around.’”
I stroked his stomach in slow circles. His breath hitched.
“‘You climbed out, and you weren’t wearing anything. All wet, your beautiful hair dripping down over your breasts. Just looking at me like I was the only thing in the world you wanted.’”
My hand brushed lower, and he groaned.
“What happened next?” I whispered.
“‘You walked up and knelt between my legs.’” His voice was strained.
I got up on my hands and knees and climbed between his legs. His t-shirt rode up at the waist, hinting at the planes of sculpted muscles and tattoos across his body. This was too good to be true, but here we were, in the middle of the Stockholm archipelago, taking our first tentative steps together.
A bubble of warmth rose inside me. Finally, all my longing and waiting had a place.
“And then?” I asked, my voice shaking.
Jonas let out a strangled laugh and dropped the letter onto the floor. “Then I stopped reading and moved on to the real thing.”
In an instant, I was on my back, and he was over me, propped up on his elbows.
“My turn to torture you,” he mumbled, kissing my neck.
Jonas brushed my hair off my shoulder, over to one side. His rough fingers traced my collarbone, and he kissed my bare shoulder. His erection throbbed against me, but his kisses were soft and slow. His hands skimmed up and down, exploring, remembering. His breaths filled my ear, together with whispers of all the things he missed about me, all the things he wanted to do to me.
“Wait,” I said, laughing. “What about the letters?”
“We have time for that, too. So much time.”
It was true. We had forever. At last.
***
Thank you so much for spending your time with Alice and Jonas. I hope you enjoyed following their travels as their fling grew into something deeper.
Writing Jonas’s search for redemption was raw and heart-wrenching. When his past is revealed, his reluctant, aching pursuit of Alice is all the more beautiful. Alice’s growth in this story was a joy to write. Her relationship with Jonas forces her to open parts of her past that she tried to cut off for a long time. But it takes this special connection to come to terms with both the shadows of her past and her desires of the present.
You can catch a quick appearance of this couple in Stockholm Diaries, Melanie, which takes place in the little red cabin next door! Or, if you have a thing for hot, edgy, bodyguard in Australia, check out my Blackmore Inc. series with the super-sexy Harlequin DARE line.
xoxo,
Rebecca
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rebecca Hunter is a writer and translator who has always loved to read and travel. Though she earned a Bachelor’s in English and a Master’s in English Education, most of what she learned about writing romance has come from other sources.
She has, over the years, called many places home, including Michigan, where she grew up, New York, San Francisco and, of course, Stockholm, Sweden. After their most recent move from Sweden back to the San Francisco Bay Area, she and her husband assured each other they’d never move again. Well, probably not.
Her debut book, Stockholm Diaries, Caroline, won the 2016 National Excellence in Romance Fiction Award (NERFA), and Best Laid Plans, the first book in her Blackmore Inc. series for the Harlequin DARE line, won the 2019 NERFA and the 2019 HOLT Medallion contests and earned a starred review from Library Journal.
Rebecca Hunter, Redemption
