Page 52 of Off the Post

I tilt my head and pinch my eyebrows together. “You have an elevator?”

He flattens his palm against the door. “Ja. Would you prefer a ride?”

As soon as he says the word ride, the elevator scene from an erotic book series I read comes to mind and heat flames across my cheeks. I swallow.

Soren cocks his head. “You okay?”

“Of course,” I say a bit too forcefully, and then wave. “Maybe later.”

He doesn’t say anything more and we climb the stairs. He remains two steps in front of me so I’m torn between looking at his home’s impressive architecture and his perfectly sculpted ass.

The staircase is protected by glass and boasts wood trim handrails. It’s beautifully modern, with a hint of dark teak woodwork that warmly balances with the stark white of the walls.

When we reach the top of the landing, the room opens to a large main living area in front of us. A glass and river rock fireplace, with a mantel full of photos and trophies, and a huge flat-screen TV adorn one wall.

On the far end is a brightly lit kitchen with white cabinetry and stainless-steel appliances, and bracketing each end of the open-concept space are floor-to-ceiling windows. One set of windows looks out toward the cityscape, and the other offers the most mind-blowing view of the harbor and the North Shore mountains that I’ve ever seen outside of photographs.

“You have a beautiful home,” I say absently, still taking in my surroundings. “Did you design it yourself?”

This produces a deep, throaty chuckle from Soren. “Nein. It was an existing unit when I purchased. The elevator came with the house, and all the décor is courtesy of Anna’s good eye. I have no taste in interior design.”

I chuckle. “Tanner is the same way. I did a lot of work when I moved in, including purchasing a few necessities. You know, like towels.” I remember asking him where the extra towels were for the guest bathroom. He looked at me like I’d grown three heads.

My gaze lands on a massive four-piece sectional couch in a dark heather gray, which is soft to the touch when I run my hand over the material. It takes up most of the room and even has a chaise lounge.

“This looks like the perfect spot to drink coffee and read a book.”

Next, my eyes catch on the packed built-in bookshelf. I move closer to examine the books, grazing my fingers over the bindings as I do so. They’re arranged in alphabetical order by author, but they also appear to be categorized by genre. It’s almost like a librarian lives here. I look over my shoulder to find Soren watching me, his arms crossed at his chest. “You’re a big reader, then?”

“Ja.” He shrugs. “Sometimes books are better than people.”

I snort out a laugh and point a finger toward him. “Fact.”

“You like thrillers,” I say, noticing a large assortment of authors I’m familiar with.

He’s suddenly behind me, his breath fanning the back of my neck. He smells of minty fresh toothpaste and a spicy cologne. A shiver runs down the length of my spine when his knuckles brush along the sensitive skin of my neck and he leans in to whisper in my ear.

“I like you.”

One moment I’m staring at his bookshelf and the next, Soren’s hands are on my hips, and he spins me around to face him. The top of my head barely reaches his chin, and I tip my head back to look into his eyes. Compelling and magnetic, they hold a sheen of purpose.

I feel it down to my core.

“Do you know how long I’ve obsessed over your taste on my tongue?” He wraps his hands around my wrists and leads my arms above my head, pressing his body into mine and back into the wall of books.

I shake my head and stare up at him with wide-eyed interest and desire.

“All night long, mein Sonnenschein.” His eyes darken.

I tremble, a flash of pleasure sparking hot and needy between my legs. I don’t know what his words mean, but they set off an electricity that hums through my body.

“I can’t get you out of my head, Ali. I want more.”

I’m about to say something like “yes, more,” but it dies on my tongue the moment he captures my mouth in a hot, urgent kiss. With my arms trapped in his hold, all I can do is arch into him, my nipples tightening into peaks against my bra. Small, helpless noises emerge from deep within my throat. I barely recognize myself.

Soren wastes no time as he silences my sounds of desperation with a sweep of his tongue against my lips, and my mouth opens to let him in. The taste of him melds with my own fervent need and fans the flames. The heat radiating from this kiss is so intense that we could burn this whole house down.

He drops my hands and cups my cheeks with a shaky hiss of his breath. My only thought is to be closer, to be skin on skin so that the empty ache in my core can be filled. I hoist myself up and wrap my legs around his waist, curling my hands at his nape and winding my fingers through his damp locks. His hands lift my ass so his hard arousal probes the tender and aching notch between my legs. I draw in a ragged breath.