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Flip pulled up the GPS, which was already set with their destination—not that it would mean anything to Brayden, because—

“Actually, scratch where we’re going. Where are we now ?” He raised his eyebrows at the screen. “That’s a lot of vowels. And consonants. And umlauts.” He paused. “Are we in Finland?”

So much for the surprise. Flip should have known better than to underestimate Brayden’s language skills. “Looks that way,” he said as he followed the directions to exit the tiny airstrip.

The landscape outside the bright bubble of the airport might as well have been a different planet. Though the sky was a clear, dark indigo scattered with stars and only a quarter moon, every candela of light reflected tenfold off a perfect, gleaming layer of snow.

Brayden licked his lips. “Is it—is this…. I mean.” He glanced at the clock. “Just before six,” he murmured to himself. “So, what, the sun’s been down for a few hours?”

“The sun hasn’t come over the horizon in a week,” Flip corrected quietly. Theirs was the only car on the road. Twelve minutes to their destination.

“So we might see… I mean, we’re here for the Northern Lights, right?”

“I booked us a room for two nights,” Flip confirmed, a little disappointed Brayden had spoiled his own surprise. He still had the hotel itself up his sleeve, at least. “If we haven’t seen them by then, I’ll extend our stay.”

A few kilometers passed in relative silence, the only sound the Range Rover’s tires on the road.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Brayden said at last. He was looking out the window, his expression a mask of wonder. If Flip could get Brayden to look at him like that…. “But I’m glad you did. This is… this is more than I could have asked for. So. Thank you.”

Flip swallowed hard and pushed down I don’t want your gratitude . It wasn’t true exactly, and Brayden was a gracious person by nature, even if he expressed that in nonstandard ways.

But oh, he didn’t want Brayden to act out of appreciation. Not tonight. Flip wanted so much more than gratitude.

He curled his fingers tighter around the steering wheel and said, “You’re welcome.”

Brayden couldn’t tell much about the hotel from the lobby, partly because Flip had instructed him to stay in the car while he checked in and procured their keys.

A well-bundled woman knocked on his window and asked him to open the trunk so she could deliver their suitcases.

Apparently that would happen via snowmobile sled.

Brayden didn’t know why they couldn’t take the bags themselves, but perhaps it was a fancy hotel thing.

“Thank you,” the woman said cheerfully, and she zipped off into the night. A number of glowing lights in the distance seemed to indicate the rooms were separate cabins of some kind, or at least in different buildings. Brayden couldn’t tell from there.

Brayden couldn’t tell a lot of things.

What was this trip, really? Could it just be a makeup for the unchaperoned sightseeing Brayden had given up?

Surely they could have done something similar in Lyngria, without all this trouble.

But maybe Flip thought that wasn’t good enough, and since he had a fair amount of wealth at his disposal, he decided on a grand gesture?

Or maybe Brayden’s instinct that morning had been correct and Flip wanted to get in his pants.

The door opened, breaking Brayden out of his contemplation, and Flip buckled in and put the car in gear before glancing over at Brayden. “Ready?”

No. Brayden’s heart was beating too fast. Out loud he said, “Absolutely.”

The hotel was located at the top of a fell dotted with snow-covered pines.

They passed the snowmobile on its return trip, and then Flip slowed the SUV in front of a small building with the number 3 embossed on the door.

He pulled into a parking place that mostly consisted of a spot of cleared-away snow and turned off the engine.

Then he handed Brayden the key and briefly curled Brayden’s hand around it before he let go. “After you.”

The wind outside was as bitter as it had been at the airport. Fortunately, though, the key turned easily in the lock, and Brayden stepped inside.

The little cabin was warm enough that Brayden immediately unzipped his coat.

He left his shoes on the drying rack near the door.

Off to one side was a small, modern kitchenette with a sleek coffee maker that looked like it cost more than the snowmobile he’d seen earlier.

To the other was a wooden door that smelled of spruce.

A thick curtain separated the small entry area from the larger space, probably to keep anyone still in bed warm should the exterior door open. Brayden swept it aside—

And raised his hand to his mouth.

All of Lapland and half the sky seemed to spread out in front of him—snow-covered trees and twinkling stars and the quarter moon.

A huge glass dome formed an igloo over a luxuriously appointed bed, and an intimate seating area framed a fireplace set into one of the walls.

Rich, thick area rugs covered the floor.

Brayden let it pull him in and trailed his fingers over surprisingly warm glass.

The walls featured unobtrusive curtains, currently pulled back to make the most of the view, but they didn’t reach all the way to the ceiling—someone could watch the aurora while lying in bed and still have complete privacy.

Though really, the igloo was angled such that even standing in the middle of the room, Brayden couldn’t see into any of the neighboring buildings.

That would come in handy if he wanted to take a bath, since the giant tub stood just a few feet to the left of the fireplace. No point in modesty here. If someone brought you to this place, they definitely wanted to have sex with you.

Brayden swallowed that thought and continued exploring.

The bathroom was just off the kitchen—a toilet and glass shower stall, with a sturdy vanity made of the same solid spruce he’d noticed earlier, its countertop stained a rich brown and lacquered until it gleamed.

Brayden touched that too.

When he looked up, he saw Flip behind him in the mirror. He’d taken off his parka and gloves and boots, and now stood in a burgundy sweater and fine gray wool pants, staring at Brayden with naked affection and no small amount of desire. Brayden could relate.

Time seemed to stretch out. This was his moment—whatever he did next would dictate how far he fell and how hard. He could still turn and run. Flip would give him space.

But God, Brayden didn’t want it. He wanted to feel it all—every moment, every rush of oxytocin and the inevitable crush of heartbreak.

He wanted Flip to crowd him in here and turn him around.

He wanted to be kissed on that bed, on the floor in front of the fireplace.

He wanted to go back to Lyngria and spend his life on Flip’s arm, at Flip’s side, across from him on the dance floor. He wanted—

“Brayden,” Flip said, halfway across the tiny bathroom now, and Brayden turned around and kissed him.

Right away Flip made a noise of frustrated desire into his mouth.

His hands went first to Brayden’s face and cupped it while he teased open Brayden’s lips and swept his tongue inside.

Then, while Brayden’s brain lit up at the thorough exploration, while he tried to keep his feet as his knees wobbled, Flip ran his hands down his shoulders and up underneath Brayden’s sweater.

Brayden’s coat still hung open, and he shrugged it off. A second later those hands smoothed down his ass, kneaded once, and then hooked under Brayden’s thighs and lifted.

Brayden wrapped his legs around Flip’s waist and his arms around his shoulders as Flip walked the two steps, set Brayden down on the bathroom counter, and released his mouth to fasten his lips to Brayden’s neck.

Cursing under his breath, Brayden tilted his head against the wall and scrabbled at the back of Flip’s sweater to pull it up.

“This sweater ,” he said, and then he lost his words on a cut-off groan when Flip scraped his teeth up to Brayden’s ear.

“This sweater has been tormenting me all day .”

He got it rucked up to Flip’s armpits, but Flip didn’t seem to want to stop what he was doing long enough for Brayden to have his satisfaction.

Brayden kneed him gently in the side, shoving him away, and finally Flip lifted his arms and stripped off the sweater, somewhat imperiously.

It dropped unlamented to the bathroom floor.

For the first time, Brayden got to drink his fill, unworried about being caught. Flip’s smooth brown skin covered lean muscle, a dancer’s build—strange for Brayden to think, as he was broader across the chest than Flip was. Cut hipbones—Brayden licked his lips—a dusting of wiry chest hair—

“ You’ve been tormented?” Flip enunciated, stalking forward again with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

“Your cursed high school baseball T-shirt has lost all its shape, and you’re always flashing this at me.

” He slid his hands under Brayden’s sweater and ran them up his flanks.

He kept going until Brayden had to raise his arms so the offending garment could join its fellow in ignominy.

Brayden put his hands on Flip’s obliques and traced his thumbs up toward his nipples.

Flip kissed him again, pressing closer between Brayden’s thighs.

There was no mistaking the hard line of his cock as it pressed against Brayden’s, or the possessive way he kissed, or the shiver that went through Brayden when Flip bit gently at his lower lip.

Breaking the kiss, Brayden fumbled for the button of Flip’s trousers.

“I can’t believe—you brought me all the way to Finland —” Flip kept interrupting with more kisses. “—to seduce me . I was—a sure thing—”