Page 22 of Brutal Reign

Chloe: You better be shagging your Viking by now. Remember our deal!

Heat floods my cheeks as I quickly flip the phone face down, hoping he didn’t see.

“Everything alright?” he asks, leaning back in his seat with that devastatingly casual confidence.

The movement makes his shoulders appear even broader, and I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to run my hands over them. Can I really go through with this? Taking him home, being with him the way Chloe assumes I already am?

“Just Chloe being Chloe,” I mumble. To change the subject, I add, “Has anyone ever told you, you kind of look like a Viking?”

He laughs, low and easy. “I’ve heard that before. I don’t take it as an insult.”

“Oh, it’s definitely not.” I look away quickly when I realize how fast the words tumbled out.

All night, I haven’t been able to stop staring at the column of his strong neck or the straight line of his nose. Or how damn good he smells, something clean and woodsy with hints of cedar and rain.

“Enough about me,” he says. His knee brushes mine again, and this time, neither of us moves. “Tell me something about you, Lily.”

I shift in my seat, fingers fidgeting with my glass, but don’t pull away. I was really hoping to avoid personal questions. “Uh, what do you want to know? I’m not very interesting.”

“I don’t buy that.” He lifts a brow. “Then tell me something about yourself that is interesting. Anything.”

I blink. “Like what?”

“Like what’s on your bucket list? Where do you want to travel?”

I hesitate, then look down at my drink, swirling the melting ice with my straw. At least he asked a question I can answer truthfully. “I want to see the fjords in Norway. Iceland too. Hikethe kind of rugged, intense landscapes that make you feel small. Like you can disappear into the wind.”

“You like feeling small?”

I glance up at him, catching the suggestion in his tone first, then the flicker of heat behind his eyes. Something low in my belly responds to that look, and I don’t mind it at all.

“Not usually. But sometimes, it’s a relief. To feel like the world’s bigger than you. Like maybe your problems aren’t as huge as they feel.”

He leans in again, elbow on the table, gaze locked on mine. “That’s not what I expected you to say.”

“What did you expect?”

“Beaches. Cocktails. Somewhere warm.”

I smile. “Nah. I don’t like heat.”

“I do,” he says softly, his gaze dropping to my mouth for the briefest second before meeting my eyes again.

My pulse skips. I reach for my glass and take another sip to keep my hands busy.

“So what kind of books do you actually read?” he asks, a teasing note in his voice.

“For the record, I haven’t read any Viking historical fiction. Unless you count Viking romance.”

He grins. “That’s a thing?”

“It sure is. There’s a romance book for everything—aliens, monsters, demons, stalkers, Highlanders, doctors, mafia bosses.” I shrug, unabashed. “I read it all. I like knowing the book has a guaranteed happy ending. There’s enough shit and uncertainty in real life; I like my fiction to be an escape. Things can get messy as fuck in the middle, but they always work out in the end.”

He’s quiet for a beat, simply looking at me. It’s... unsettling. Intimate almost, and a flush of desire pools low in my belly.

The bar is nearly empty now, other than one guy reading in the corner and a server wiping down tables to the rhythm of some soft indie playlist. The lights are dimmed, the candles on our table casting a warm glow over his strong features.

He leans in with a little growl. “Do you also read it for the dirty scenes?”