The Housewife and the Film Star (4 page)

Please just go away and leave me alone already.

But Sven simply ruffled Timmy's hair, and his smile turned wicked.

"Nonsense, I've promised this little man pizza, so the best pizza outside of Italy he'll get.  I've nowhere else I need to be"—and whilst Timmy whooped his delight he added for her ears only—"other than buried deep in you with you screaming my name."

Oh Lord!

The desire that had been simmering in her veins ever since he arrived reached instant flash point. She bit her lip so hard she could taste blood, as the heat rose in her cheeks.

"Sven, for pity's sake my son is right there."

That husky whisper came out far too needy, as confirmed by his gruff response in her ear.

"If that's your only objection to my suggestion, then we're certainly making progress. And stop abusing those lips of yours, before I'll be forced to put you over my knee."

With his most sinful smile yet, he blew her a kiss, and, pulling his phone out of his pocket, dialed for their take away pizza. For the life of her, she couldn't think of one sensible objection.

Chapter Four

Dinner turned out to be a lively affair, and Sven was all too aware that Sylvia would have a devil of a job getting Timmy to bed tonight. The little fellow was beside himself with excitement at the pizza, and the arrival of his big sisters did not help to calm him down one bit. Sylvia tensed when Alicia and Ruby walked in, as though concerned about his reaction. Little did she know that Vera's report on her had been very thorough, so the fact she had teenage daughters did not come as a surprise to him. Sylvia had been very young when she had Alicia, who at eighteen was the spitting image of her mother. Alicia's father had taken off the minute a teenage Sylvia had found out that she was pregnant, leaving her to raise the girl on her own, until her marriage to Richard, fourteen years ago. Ruby, at thirteen, was an older, just as rambunctious version of three year old Timmy. Sven smiled to himself at the endless questions about actors and Hollywood in general she bombarded him with over dinner. Sylvia's sharp retort sent the teenager off in a huff. Loud hip hop music boomed from her room less than two minutes later.

Funny, he hadn't minded the endless questions and he said as much to Sylvia, but she bit his head off, too.

"Ruby has enough stuff and nonsense in her overly romantic head. You don't need to add to them. No one here is impressed by your film star exploits."

"My am! My like Sven!" Timmy's excited shouts broke the sudden tension, and Sven received an impromptu hug from Hard Head,
which left a fuzzy, warm feeling inside his gut. He had to force himself to not pick up his phone and see how things were back in Malmo. Lord knew he'd have to go home for a few days at least, no matter how painful the trip, but first he had to sort this thing out with Sylvia.

She took a protesting Timmy up to bed shortly after, and left him on his own with Alicia. Sylvia's daughter hadn't said much throughout the meal. Her eyes, so like her mother's, had assessed him throughout, and Sven couldn't help but feel that he was put through some sort of silent test.

Sure enough, once Sylvia was out of earshot, Alicia pierced him with a look his own mother would have been proud of.

"I warn you, Mister, if you hurt my mother you'll have me to deal with."

Sven was so startled by the quiet steel behind those words he didn't know what to say.

"I've no intention of hurting her, Alicia, quite the opposite."

Mind you, the things he had in mind would no doubt shock the young tigress in front of him. She was definitely her mother's daughter, that's for sure. Alicia took a few steps toward him, and he covered his balls instinctively at the thought of another woman in the vicinity who would no doubt be deadly with a frying pan. Her gaze flicked down to his groin and back up to his face, and her lips twitched in amusement.

"You think Timmy hurt? I happen to be a black belt, so bear that in mind when dealing with my mother."

Of course you are, just my damned luck.

She made to leave the room, and he stared after her, an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, when she turned round again abruptly.
What the hell?

"Mum has had to deal with more crap in one lifetime than any woman should, and it's high time she let her hair down a bit. I reckon you're just the man to show her, but, for pity's sake, keep her out of the papers. Aunt Peggy doesn't need more ammunition to torture her with. Oh, and ask her about tomorrow, because she won't mention it. If you're as intent on getting into her knickers as you appear to be, then helping her get rid of Harry will earn you many Brownie points from all of us."

Sven's strangled cough in response to that statement made her smile.

"Oh come on, surely I didn't shock you?"

"Not exactly, but I doubt your mother would appreciate you arranging her love life for her, and who the fuck is Harry?"

"No need to swear, Mr. Larsson, but for your information Harry is my Aunt's choice of husband for Mum, and the way things stand, she might just feel obliged to agree to marry him. It would break her heart if I was jailed for murder, so work that famous Larsson charm and talk her out of it!"

She sashayed from the room and left him to wonder what the fuck he was getting involved in. He'd be damned, however, if that Harry person was going to get his hands on his woman. Sven's gut clenched at the unwelcome image of Sylvia with any other man, and he glared at her wedding pictures on the mantel piece. The slave collar around Sylvia's neck darkened his mood further. What the fuck? So she'd been owned. Why should this bother him? Since when had he been the possessive type?

****

Having achieved the seemingly impossible with Timmy finally asleep, Sylvia went in search of Ruby. A hug and a quiet chat later, Ruby's ruffled feathers were soothed, and Sylvia checked on Alicia, who promptly sent her away.

"Stop stalling, Mum, and get down there already. The man is waiting for you."

"Yes, well, he can wait. With a bit of luck, he'll bugger off and leave me alone."

Alicia was revising, and she put the textbook down very slowly. She fixed her with one of those long, assessing stares she'd perfected since she was knee-high.  Sometimes, Sylvia wondered who the parent was. She and Alicia had been on their own for almost five years before her marriage to Richard, and whilst Richard had been kind to his stepdaughter, Alicia's credo of “you and me against the rest of the world, Mum” had never quite faded.  She'd always been much older and wiser than her actual age, and, for the umpteenth time, the all too familiar feelings of guilt churned in Sylvia's stomach. Had she made her daughter this way? Had she been relying too much on Alicia, especially since Richard's accident in that fatal car crash? She squirmed under her eldest’s scrutiny, and she shouldn't have been surprised at the direct words that followed.

"Is that really what you want, Mum? Because I may be barking up the wrong proverbial here, but the way that man has been eating you alive with his eyes all through dinner, I don't think he's going anywhere soon. And the way you act around him, you certainly don't give the impression that you want him to be anywhere else but in your knickers."

"Alicia!"                           

She didn't quite pull off the outraged tones she'd been hoping for, because Alicia just raised her eyebrows, before pulling her into a long hug.

"It's okay to be afraid, Mum. But really what have you got to lose? Apart from some awesome sex of course."

"Ali, you know damn well there is more to life than sex. And besides, if the rumors are true then he's into kinky sex, and I'm not at all sure I'm ready for that again."

"True, but, Mum, you love reading the stuff again, so maybe now you need to get back to it. I think after your marriage to Dad and all the shit since, you bloody well deserve some mind-blowing orgasms, and if anyone can give you those then surely it's him downstairs. Don't even try to deny it, Mother. The rabbit I bought you for Christmas will never compare. I'm not asking you to fall in love with him and go for the whole happy-ever-after thing, but hell's bells, loosen up and just go with it for once. You deserve it."

And she unceremonio
usly shoved her out of the door, and Sylvia took refuge in the bathroom.

She was not hiding, she told herself. She was simply weighing up her options.
Kid yourself much?
What options would those be exactly?

It was awfully quiet downstairs
when she finally emerged from the bathroom, and Sylvia paused on the bottom step, now, listening to Sven's deep voice talk in Swedish.  God, if that wasn't the sexiest sound ever. If she was this turned on just from listen to him speak to someone on the phone, there really was no hope for her. What the hell was she going to do? Could she really just throw caution to the wind and explore this thing between them?

By the time her wobbly legs finally carried her through to the living room, he'd finished his phone call. One hand braced against her fireplace, his hair a delightful mess as though he'd run his hands through it repeatedly, he studied the family pictures on the mantel with a grim expression. Sylvia allowed her eyes to feast freely, her breathing erratic as she took in the broad shoulders, lean hips, and tight backside, perfectly showcased in his jeans. As though he'd sensed her presence, he turned round slowly
, and the normally cool room changed into a furnace. His gaze explored her body slowly, resting a heart-stopping moment too long on her nipples, which appeared to have a life of their own, before he settled on her face.

"
Hej
, Mr. Hard Head finally asleep?"

Sylvia could only nod, not trusting her voice at all.

"I'm sorry if my presence made the whole bedtime routine more of an ordeal than it needed to be. Guess I wound him up a bit too much."

"You think?"

Thank God for sarcasm. Her voice sounded almost normal. Now, if only she could forget she knew exactly what he was hiding under that loose-fitting shirt.

"Why are you still here? Surely there isn't anything else you can want. I'm not interested in whatever
arrangement
Vera alluded to in her last few messages."

"You did listen to them, then?"

Oh, for pity's sake, did he think she was dim or something?

"Of course I listened to them. The fact that I didn't respond should have told you that I'm not interested, so…" She turned back toward the door, and gestured for him to follow, but the stubborn man was not getting the hint. "Really, Sven, thanks for the pizza and whatever, but you need to leave."

"Why, expecting Harry?"

"I … how do you know about Harry? Not that he's any of your business."

"Alicia seems to think he should be my business. In fact, she said you could do with my help, and never let it be said that I don't help out a lady in distress. Especially when she's done so much for me already."

Heat washed into Sylvia's cheeks in mortal embarrassment at the wicked gleam in those blue eyes.

"I didn't, I mean, I haven't… And I certainly don't need payment for whatever I might've done under the influence of too much champagne that night. Oh, for God's sake, just leave. I don't need or want your help. What happened that night was completely out of character for me, and it'll not happen again!"

The fine hair on her neck warned her of his quiet approach, and before she could move away, two warm hands came round her waist and turned her round to face him.

"Look at me,
älskling.
What exactly do you think happened that night?"

Oh, no, she couldn't do this. He was too close, and she was too aware of him, her body's immediate reaction too potent. He forced her to look up at him by cupping her chin gently in his hand. Instead of the devious grin she expected, however, the blue eyes searching her face were warm, and, yes, full of male admiration, but also something else that she couldn't quite decipher.

****

The rush of protectiveness floored him, and obliterated
any other desires he had at that moment. Any thought of teasing her went out of the window at what he saw in her eyes, and, not for the first time, he wondered who or what had made her so weary, that she seemed terrified to admit her own needs. And her body's reaction left him in no doubt that she wanted him, no matter how much she might deny it. Her cheeks were flushed, her pupils wide, and her breath labored. He willed his own raring erection to calm down. Now was not the time for sex, regardless of how easy it would be to run his hand under her summer skirt, find her slick folds, and bury himself deep inside her soft flesh. That she would be ready for him, he had no doubt. The sweet scent of her arousal was in the air between them as he tucked her closer, mindful to keep his hips away from her.

"Would it help to know that all you did was sleep with me?"

Her sharp intake of breath and the renewed heat in her cheeks had more unwanted affection well up inside of him. He so needed to fuck her silly. That had to be the reason for the sappy feelings he was having right now.

"As in sleep, not have sex,
Sylvia. You were completely out, and, call me old-fashioned, but I do prefer my women responsive in bed."

He chuckled to himself at the myriad of expressions that flitted across her face
, shock, embarrassment, denial, and confusion.

"But I don't understand. If we didn't, then what the hell am I supposed to have done for you?"

"You really don't get it, do you?"

Sylvia shook her head at him, her nose wrinkled in worried confusion, and he had to resist the urge to draw her in closer and kiss those worry lines away. Instead, he took a few steps back, not trusting himself not to act on his baser impulses. His cock was still sitting up and screaming, "Come to
Papa."

"Really, Sven, what have I done? I know Vera warbled on about your image and what not, but seriously? Unless you really expected me to run to the papers… Oh, my God, that's it, isn't it?  You were expecting me to sell you out, weren't you?"

Sylvia looked furious and hot as hell. Her blue eyes blazed with indignation and set him on fire from the inside out.

"I told you then you didn't need any gag order. I would never run to the papers
. No self-respecting woman would, and, if you automatically expect that of people, then I feel sorry for you, I really do."