Red Wolf_ A Novel - Liza Marklund [71]
‘Are you cold?’ he asked, noticing that his mouth was completely dry.
She carried on smiling as she shook her head. ‘Not at all,’ she said. ‘I’m perfectly warm.’
He gave in and pulled her to him. Her head was just under his nose. She was taller than Annika. Her hair smelled of apples. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight. A violent jolt went through his body, so hot and rigid that it took his breath away, making him gasp.
‘Thomas,’ she whispered against his chest, ‘if only you knew how much I’ve been longing for this.’
He gulped and closed his eyes, holding her even tighter, absorbing her smell, apples and perfume and the wool of her coat, then relaxed and saw her turn her face to his. He was breathing through his mouth as he stared into her eyes, saw the pupils contract, noticing that she was panting.
If I do this there’s no way back, he thought. If I give in now I’m lost.
And he leaned forward and kissed her, endlessly slowly and carefully. Her lips were cold and tasted of gin and menthol cigarettes. Shivers ran up and down his spine. Then she took a little step towards him, almost imperceptible, but their teeth met and the warmth from her mouth entered his and a moment later he thought he was going to explode. Good God, he had to have this woman now.
‘Do you want to come home with me?’ she whispered against his neck.
He could only nod.
She let go of him and hailed a taxi, with her usual success. They stepped apart, she adopted a look that said sensible Federation of County Councils representative, adjusted her hair, and simultaneously sent him a radiant glance across the roof of the car. They climbed in their respective back doors; she gave the driver the address of her flat on Östermalm. Then they sat in their corners of the back seat with their hands clasped hard together beneath her handbag as the taxi rattled them through the city centre and up towards Karlaplan.
He paid with his business account, signing with trembling fingers.
She lived at the top of a magnificent building from 1898. The marble staircase was discreetly lit by soft brass lamps; a thick carpet swallowed their steps as she quickly pulled him towards the lift. They closed the ornamental gate and she pressed the button for the sixth floor, then pulled off his coat. He let it fall to the floor, not caring if it got dirty, and took off her coat and jacket and blouse, filling his hands with her breasts. She moaned gently against his shoulder, both of her hands massaging his groin. Then she found the zip, opened it and pulled his erection out of his underwear. He couldn’t help closing his eyes and leaning back, afraid he was going to faint.
Then the lift stopped with a jolt, she kissed him and laughed into his mouth.
‘Well, project leader, come on. We’re nearly there.’
They gathered their clothes and bags and briefcases and tumbled out of the lift. She hunted for the keys in her handbag, and he ran his tongue over the back of her neck as she unlocked the door.
‘I have to turn the alarm off,’ she whispered.
After a few bleeping sounds they were in her hallway, his hands caressing her naked waist. They moved upwards and found her breasts, she pressed her body against him before turning round and pulling him with her onto the floor of the hall.
Her eyes were radiant, her breathing light and urgent, and as he pushed into her she held his gaze and he was lost, drowning, wanted to carry on drowning until he died, then he died and everything went black for a moment when he came.
All of a sudden he was conscious of his own panting. He was lying with his knee in one of her shoes, and realized that they hadn’t even closed the door. A cold draught was making his sweaty skin shiver.
‘We can’t stay like this,’ he said, sliding out of her.
‘Oh, Thomas,’ Sophia said, ‘I think I’m in love with you.’
He looked at her lying beneath him with her blond