Pucking the Bad Boy Center Bonus Scene
Briony
FIVE MONTHS LATER
I’ve never been a snob about flying first-class, but on our twelve-hour flight to Norway, I can’t imagine how I ever traveled any other way. Alaric sleeps like a baby next to me, but as we get closer to landing, I nudge him awake, palming his chest and kissing his lips. Nerves grip me, and my heart races.
“Mmm…” he says drowsily, his eyes still closed as he wraps his big arms around me. Against the shell of my ear, he whispers, “How did you know what I was dreaming about and bring it to life, Goddess? Are you adding mind reading to your list of supernatural powers?”
“And what are my other supernatural powers?” I giggle softly.
“Bewitching men in the woods and stealing their hearts, souls, and reason.”
“Not anymore. I’ve turned over a new leaf.”
“Oh, ya?” he grumbles, finally opening his clear blue eyes. His look is warm and devouring, and the throb between my legs laments the fact we don’t have more privacy.
“Yes. Because I have everything I need right here with you, Viking.”
“Good,” he says, kissing me tenderly.
“But,” I continue breathlessly. “I’m terrified of meeting your family. What if I forget the Norwegian you’ve taught me, which is pretty much guaranteed? Or they don’t end up liking me?”
He smiles warmly, kissing me again. “If you’ve forgotten your Norwegian, they will do their best to speak English, and then we will all laugh a lot at the many misunderstandings and mispronunciations that follow. And they will love you no matter what because you are flesh of my flesh and heart of my heart, Briony. And you hold my soul inside that delectable body of yours so that I am constantly a man outside of myself for want of you.”
“Where do you come up with these lines?” I ask, showering his face in kisses.
“Wait until you understand Norwegian better. I will seduce you out of your panties with my words.”
“You’ve already done that many times in English.”
He laughs a knowing laugh. “God, I need you,” he confesses, kissing my earlobe and sucking it into his mouth. “You have no idea.”
“I do have an idea,” I sigh. “I’d suggest the mile-high club, my love, but you’re too big to fit into the airplane lavatory all by yourself.”
“And that’s just my cock,” he teases. I gently swat his arm, snickering. Since getting together, I’ve helped him with his English, which has brought out a devilish side of his personality that I can’t get enough of. He adds, “I promise, as soon as we have some time and space alone, I will take you more than a mile high with this hungry tongue and thirsty mouth of mine.”
“That’s the kind of promise I can get behind.”
“Although,” he adds, the corners of his mouth turning down. “Don’t expect lots of privacy with my family. They’ll keep us up talking all night if we let them.”
Alaric’s predictions about his family couldn’t be truer. The initial meeting with so many blond, towering people is overwhelming. I feel like I’ll develop a crook in my neck from the head craning I must do. Although they try to speak English, his parents have very thick accents, which I strain to understand. Fortunately, his siblings all have a much better grasp of English, especially his sisters, Ingrid, Nora, and Astrid. They, along with his sisters-in-law, are all much closer to my height, too.
Children abound, and it seems that every time I’ve put a new family unit together, more kids appear. Everyone is welcoming and hospitable, and their affection for Alaric is heartwarming. It also readily transfers to me as he said it would on the flight, leading to a very long night with plenty of catching up.
By the time we get back to our hotel room, which he insists on for privacy’s sake, we’re both so exhausted by jet lag that we settle for a quickie before passing out in each other’s arms. But we make up for it the next morning, taking room service and spending hours savoring and worshipping each other’s bodies.
The days that follow are a blur of visiting tourist sights, exploring the family’s reindeer farm, attending Sami cultural events, and going out at night with thermoses filled with hot cocoa to search for the Northern Lights. It’s still early in the season, September, but on several nights after midnight, we catch the mysterious glow glimmering across the ebony sky, punctuated by brilliant pinpricks of stellar and planetary light.
“This is very auspicious so early in the season,” his father says with a firm nod. “Yet another sign you will have a strong, lasting marriage.”
Alaric wraps me in his warm, muscular arms, whispering in my ear, “You are already the wife of my soul. I could not be more devoted to you, Elskling. What are your thoughts about having an unofficial wedding here? Before we leave?”
“Unofficial wedding? What do you mean?”
“Something my family can attend where we exchange vows and celebrate together with toasts and songs and cake. We would still have to make it official back home, of course.”
“But I didn’t bring anything to wear and—”
“Shh… So much worrying, Elskling. Relax.” he says gently next to my ear. “My mother and sisters will help you pick out the right clothes. My parents will visit us in America, too. But if we want all my brothers and sisters, nephews and nieces, cousins, uncles, aunts, and grandparents, this would be the best way.”
“Yes, my love,” I nod firmly. “In that case, I’ll marry you here with your family and then back at home with my family and our friends.” It still boggles my mind how I went from a toxic ten-year relationship with a man who never wanted to commit to a man begging for me to marry him twice.
He nuzzles and kisses my cold cheek, warming it and filling my body with anticipatory sparks for what’s to come later when we are alone. “Takk, Solstråle. It will mean so much to my family.”
The wedding is small and intimate, and we wear brightly colored blue and red costumes decorated in intricate embroidery, pleating, fringe, and metalwork. From the red bonnet I wear to my red and blue boots, I look more like a Travel Channel ambassador than a bride, but it is a cozy and wonderful event filled with festivity, laughter, many blessings, lots of mouthwatering food, and the love and generosity of his family.
TWO MONTHS LATER
Our wedding stateside follows quickly on the heels of the first, making me officially a Torvalds, surrounded by our friends and family. Alaric’s parents and some of his siblings and their families travel for the official event, but I’m grateful for the celebration we had in Norway with all of his extended family.
After the excitement dies down and autumn comes in with full force, Alaric returns to his heavy training schedule with the Desperadoes. October brings lovely, golden weather, countless cozy moments with my Scandinavian husband, and the return of hockey games. I sit in the special seats reserved for the Desperadoes’ family and close friends, gaining an even greater appreciation for hockey in person. Lesley and Ronald become regular patrons, sitting with me, and I also become besties with the significant others of Alaric’s teammates, from Auri and Fiona to Aiyana, Asha, and Lacey.
The changing of the seasons provides extra urgency for making good on a request Alaric had when we first started dating—horseback riding together. The day we go out is clear and crisp, with the smell of drying leaves in the air and their sound crunching beneath our horses’ hooves. We take the same trail through the Alpha Ridge Mountains that Lesley and I traveled on that fateful day back in April when I met my Viking for the first time.
“Do you remember the first time we met, Elskling?” he asks, reading my mind, as we ride along. The big, brute of a man dwarfs Max, the American Quarter horse gelding Ronald loaned him to ride, and I sit atop Ginger again.
“I’ll never forget it. I nearly trampled you with Ginger.” I chuckle. “And when I took a moment to look at you for the first time, my eyes nearly bugged out of my head. You were so tall and large and tanned with those gorgeous blue eyes of yours and that golden hair. I thought I had traveled back in time and found my own Viking marauder. But then, I saw Benno and Bilke.”
We both laugh at that surreal juxtaposition. “And you were like a goddess. Wild and untamed with your red hair flowing in the breeze and that shirt that went all the way up your neck covered in lace with those infuriating little pearl buttons that I longed to unfasten with my teeth.”
“If only I had known what you were thinking,” I purr seductively.
“Yes, you would have galloped away from me in fright. You practically did anyway. I know you, wife, and it took plenty of convincing on my part for you to give me a chance.”
I shrug, smiling broadly. “I’m glad I did.”
We stop in a clearing with a winding stream, dismounting and letting the horses drink. Alaric holds me from behind, nuzzling his head against my neck and showering me in seductive kisses. My pulse quickens and my breasts heave against the front of my shirt, begging for him to unbutton me. “I’m glad we could fit in this ride today, my love,” I say breathlessly. “Because the weather will change before we know it. And I’ll need to be more careful for the next eight months or so.”
“Eight months?” he asks quizzically, but I can feel his heart start pounding against my back, where he presses his body against me. “Why eight months?”
“Because I’ve only missed one period so far.”
The giant of a man exhales sharply, his big hands racing to palm my stomach. “Do you mean what I think you mean?”
“Yes, my love.”
“Oh, God,” he says, pulling me more tightly into him.
“‘Oh, God’ as in learning you’re going to be a dad at twenty-two is overwhelming or—”
He flips me around in his arms, pressing me firmly into his hard core and kissing me passionately until I gasp for air. “‘Oh, God’ as in this is too much happiness for one man. But I will take it, every bit of it.”
Tears fill my eyes…the last wounds from my time with Frances forever evaporating in the love pouring from Alaric’s steady gaze. “You have just made me the most joyful man on the planet. It doesn’t matter if I’m twenty-two or forty-two. I will do whatever it takes to care for you and our baby and cherish you both forever.” From the sincerity in his voice to the tears filling his eyes, I feel the love and commitment pouring from him.
Tears cascade over my bottom lashes as I palm his angular cheeks. “And you have made me the happiest woman in the world with your steadfast love, which has somehow miraculously done what you promised it would.”
“And what is that, my wife?”
“Unjade me,” I say, stretching up on my tiptoes to capture my husband’s delicious mouth.
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