Stockholm Syndrome Ch. 04-07

"Oh, honey," he said sarcastically. "I am far from drunk. I was going to say playful before you interrupted me."

"I like playful," said, trying not to grin. "I'm not drunk either, just have a really good buzz on."

We finally got to the room door, and I practically had to empty my purse to find the room key, which I finally did and opened the door. "Thought you said you weren't drunk," he said as we walked in.

I put my purse on the floor by the chair then went to the heating unit to turn the heat up, just for a few minutes to get the chill off of us. With my back to him I said, honestly without even thinking, "Take your clothes off." When I turned around I was stilled seeing him stand there, his eyes wide, his eyebrows raised. "No, Alex. I meant—"

He smiled reassuringly and came to me. I couldn't help but notice his shirt clinging to his chest. Putting his hands on my shoulders, he said, "Sweetie, relax. Let's just get dried off and chat, okay?"

For the life of me I couldn't understand why I suddenly froze up. The theory of having sex with him is one thing; the actual fact that we both wanted each other and we were finally alone was completely different.

"Sorry, Alex."

"Don't be. Got anything I can wear?" His voice was no longer playful or flirtatious, just ... normal.

"There's a robe in the bathroom I haven't worn yet you can wear 'til your clothes dry. I can change out here," I said, heading to the bathroom. I grabbed a towel for myself and my hair brush. "I'll let you know when I'm done."

"Okay. I'll be a few minutes. I have to make a phone call."

When I heard the bathroom door close I grabbed the pillow from the chair, shoved my face in it and screamed then laughed quietly at myself like a mad woman. I quickly dried off and changed into lounge pants and a t-shirt, noticing instantly my pointy nipples trying to escape. Oh, well. I don't have an extra bra and the one I wore is wet. Thank god for pillows.

CHAPTER SIX

I sat on the bed by the nightstand and surfed the radio for some music -- nothing seductive, just some background noise. Again, as the music coming from the bars, nothing I recognized. I heard the beginning of a song that I hadn't heard since I left home. I couldn't help but start singing it as I ran my brush through my damp, semi-knotted hair while bopping my head and swinging my hips in rhythm. I just can't keep still when I hear that song.

"Everybody get up...whew! If you can't hear what I'm trying to say, if you can't read from the same page, maybe I'm going deaf. Maybe I'm going blind. Maybe I'm outta my m-i-i-i-ind ..." I went to the window to see if it was still raining; it was. "That's why I'm gonna take a good girl ... I know you want it ... hey, hey, hey—"

Suddenly I saw Alex's reflection in the window in the white robe and stopped dead in my tracks, or booty dance. I was so mortified I couldn't move. I closed my eyes, praying he hadn't actually seen me, but I knew better. There was no way I was going to get out of it.

A second later, the song all but forgotten, he stood behind me and reached for my hand, the one holding the brush. "Alex," I whispered, crooking my head up and back so I could see what he was doing. I couldn't ignore, or explain, the look in his eyes at that moment, but I'm sure mine matched his.

"Shh," he cooed then started brushing my hair. His hands were very gentle as he slowly ran the brush from the crown of my head to the ends several times. "How's that bump on your head?"

"Fine," I gurgled. "How's your bruised arm?"

"Fine," he repeated, carefully picking through a stubborn knot. "Sorry."

"You're not hurting me. It feels nice, actually."

With every brush stroke the tension and anxiety seemed to evaporate, my head grew lighter. I closed my eyes, tilting my head to the left so he could get a different section, then my right. When the bristles swept across my neck I shivered.

He stopped brushing my hair and stepped back. "Done."

I turned around and smiled. "Thanks."

"Thank you for letting me. You look better—I mean not that you looked bad before!" he corrected, shaking his head. He might have been embarrassed at his slip of the tongue, but I knew what he meant.

I was trying to think of something to say when his eyes traveled down to my chest. I immediately crossed my arms to hide my T-H-Os, but he would have none of that. He took my wrists and brought my arms down to my sides, leaving them completely exposed. Pulling me to the bed, he turned me around. "Sit." I didn't argue with him. "Get comfortable. I'm not going anywhere."

I thought my heart was going to explode, but he kissed my forehead before jumping at the foot of the bed. He landed on his stomach, got on his side, put his head in his hand and stretched his legs out horizontally, making sure his crotch was covered. I grabbed a pillow, hugging it over my chest before I threw him one, which he put under his arm.

"Alex, before I forget, I just want you to know I have had such a great time tonight, a lot of fun. Thank you very much."

He smiled. "You're very welcome. Meeting you has been ... a nice distraction."

"Distraction?" I frowned. "How so?"

"I got back from a week in Iceland two weeks ago. No cell phone, no iPad, no iPod, no connection with anybody. I hiked forever, watched the sun rises and sets, camped out and watched the stars. Whenever I get out like that it's the only time I can think straight, get myself back on track, figure out what it is I want to do, which script to read for which movie, whether I even want to do another movie. I miss my family. Every time I head to the states -- no offense -- a part of me stays here. Don't get me wrong. I'm glad and grateful to be working, but when Mom gets ill or Eija is having problems with a boy I ... I feel like I have to be there to help them."

The tone in his voice absolutely killed me; there was so much pain. "Oh, hon, your sister understands, believe me. She might not now, but she will." Then I realized there was pain in my voice as well.

"Carrie, you've told me where you're from, what you do, what you like, where you've been, but you've never told me anything about your family."

Damn, he caught my tone. There is no way around it now. I buried my chin in the pillow, not looking at him. "Mom died two months after I graduated high school, in '84. She had cervical cancer. My brother George was five years older than me; I was sort of a Valentine's mistake." I tried to laugh but failed miserably. "He was killed in the 9-11 attack at the Pentagon. He was married but didn't have any children. I never did like Sheryl, so I don't talk to her anymore. Dad ... Two years ago he had a stroke and was bed-ridden for six months before he died."

"Oh, hon, I'm so, so sorry," he said, reaching out and putting his hand on my knee.

"George was always off doing sports stuff or hanging out with his friends that I hardly missed him when he left for college. It wasn't until Mom died that we got close. So, yeah, you might not think you're around enough, but she knows you're there for her, your brothers, too."

There was so much silence between us at that moment I was pissed at him for asking me. My eyes were burning, and I didn't want him to see me cry -- I wasn't going to cry, period. I immediately jumped off the bed and went to my suitcase.

"Well, hey, if we're going to be out all day tomorrow I should pack. I have to get out of here at—"

Alex had grabbed me by my waist and held me, so tight I couldn't have freed myself even if I tried. He cradled his chin in the crook of my neck. "I'm sorry if ... I didn't mean to upset you."

I hadn't realized I was that easy to read. I threw my head back and put my hands on the back of his, our arms flush. "You didn't." But he had, not that it was his fault.

He leaned back and turned me around. "Can I help you pack?"

"Thanks," I replied, forcing a smile. "I got it."

"Alright." He kissed my forehead. "Don't take too long. We'll have to get some sleep so we can head out of here early enough. Is that okay?"

Oh, good job, Carrie, I screamed at myself. You've really fucked up that hot kiss on the street, didn't you?! "Fine. Thanks."

I stood there and watched him as he went to the bed, pulled down the blankets and got in without removing the robe. Oh, yeah, dumbass. You've totally fucked up, Carrie.

Thankfully, the chore of getting everything in order kept my mind off of our conversation, but I felt his eyes burn into mine every movement I made. I finally finished, zipped the suitcase and turned toward the bed. The poor guy was fast asleep, lying on his side, his mouth slightly open. His face was so relaxed, and if it were possible he looked even sexier and sweeter than ever. And he was so incredibly sweet. I felt horrible about all the misconceptions I'd had about him. He might be the sexist man alive in Sweden, he may be vampire extraordinaire, but he was still a man. He had feelings and wants and needs. And he wanted to spend time with me. I was the luckiest damned girl in the world.

I turned off all the lights and carefully sat on the bed so as not to wake him. I was shocked it was almost two, and I doubted we'd get up early as he had mentioned. I set the alarm for ten and hoped for the best. I had just set the clock on the nightstand when I heard a groan, and the bed shook slightly. "What time did you set it for?" he grumbled.

I twisted around toward him. The robe had opened a bit, and I swallowed hard. As tired as I was my basic instinct to ravish him was still kicking. "Ten. Sorry, I tried not to wake you."

"It's okay. All finished?"

"Yeah."

He patted the mattress between us, so I slid under the covers, my back facing him but so close to the edge I was afraid I'd fall off in my sleep. I just knew if we faced each other neither one of us would get to sleep.

"Carrie, do you mind if we snuggle?" he whispered. I thought about it, but I must have taken too long to answer. "I've been waiting two hours to snuggle up with you."

Now how could I refuse since I made him wait? I pushed back a little so I wouldn't plow into him, not that I didn't want to. Before I could move again he grabbed my waist and pulled me close to him, so close I could feel the difference between the material of the robe and the smooth warmth of his skin through my clothes. He wiggled his body a little, put his right arm above him and put his left hand on my waist. I took his hand and wrapped it around me, resting it just over my stomach. Alex is a good foot taller than me, and with his lean body it feels like another foot. But laying in his arms it didn't feel so dramatically different.

"Perfect. You fit just like I knew you would." I had no response to that.

I simply settled in and forced my body to unwind so I could fall to sleep, yet my mind was another story. I sighed. "Alex, I'm sorry I fucked things up tonight."

"Silly girl, you didn't fuck a damned thing up."

"But that kiss, on the street ... I don't think I wanted anything else than you at that moment."

Somehow, and I never figured out how he did it, he twisted me toward him so that I was lying on my back and staring up at him, totally open and vulnerable. He brushed my bangs aside, smiling so thoughtful and sweetly. "Ms. Boyce, even if we hadn't kissed and just held hands all night talking, I would have been just as happy if we had made love."

Made love ... made love?! I thought flabbergasted. Men don't say 'make love.' They say fuck. But Alex -- dear sweet Alex is a gentleman, I had to remind myself.

"Now go to sleep, sweetie." He kissed my forehead. "We have a long day tomorrow."

Little did I realize it would be longer than either of us anticipated.

CHAPTER SEVEN

When I woke up the next morning I couldn't feel my body at all, and my eyes were glued shut. I knew I was no longer lying against Alex, and as a matter of fact I didn't smell his cologne either. "Alex," I called out, though I didn't think it was in English. I forced my eyes open, sat up slowly and carefully confirming I was indeed alone. I tried to focus on the clock to see what time it was, but I had to take it so I could see it. It was almost eight. At first I was relieved, thinking it had all been a dream. But then I grew angry that he had left without waking me.

My bladder cried out, so I got up and used the bathroom. Getting back into bed I said aloud, "I should have fucking known better." Forget what you said last night, Alex? You didn't get any from me so you up and scram. Well played, Mr. Skarsgard.

I promptly went back to sleep.

---------------

A noise startled me awake sometime later, and I bolted straight up in bed. "Wha'?"

"Carrie, hey. It's just me," Alex said, smiling and looking refreshed, wearing different clothes. "How are you feeling?" He fiddled with something on the small table between the chairs, and I noticed several paper bags on the floor.

I looked around confused. "I thought ... I woke up and you were gone, and ..."

"Didn't you see my note?"

"Note? What note?"

"I wrote a note to tell you I was going home to shower and change then take Joham to Gustaf's."

"Oh. No, I never saw it."

He frowned then looked at the nightstand before his eyes trailed to the floor in front of it. "There it is. It must have fallen off."

I kicked my feet off the bed and caught a glimpse of the clock. "It's 11? Damn." Looking past my feet I saw the note plain as day. "Oh. I knocked it off when I grabbed the clock, I guess. Okay, sorry." I was so relieved he hadn't deserted me.

"Sorry? For what?"

"Well, I, uh, sort of called you every derogatory name in the book." I got up and stood by him, running my fingers through my hair, as the hair band had come out during the night.

"That's nothing new," he chuckled. "Good morning, by the way." He bent down and kissed my cheek.

"Morning."

"Now get back in bed. I've had this planned since I woke up this morning."

"I have to pee first." Wow. How lady-like of me.

I did so, brushed my teeth and hair, leaving it down. When I came back out he was sitting at the foot of the bed with the tray in front of him. I sat across from him and looked over the food more closely. "What is all of this? The only thing I recognize is the yogurt, oh, and the banana."

"First off we have smorgas, tomat and gurka—"

"In English, please."

He grinned. "Right. Smorgas is the open-faced sandwich with ham and messmor -- forgive me, goat cheese -- topped with tomato and cucumber; cloudberry yogurt with granola; bananas; orange and coffee, with sugar and cream, just like you like it."

"No cereal?" I asked jokingly, but tried to keep my voice and face serious. Instantly his face changed, like he had gone through so much trouble to impress me or make me happy, and I'd disappointed him. "Alex, hon. I'm joking. This is perfect." His face brightened and he smiled. "You're so thoughtful."

"Do you take back what you said about me?" he asked as he handed me the coffee.

"Every single word." After taking a long swig I tried the yogurt first. "Hmm. Cloudberry is better in yogurt. I like it this way. Who's Joham?"

"My retriever. Gustaf watches him when I'm gone."

"Oh, I thought you didn't—" I had to shut myself up.

"You thought what?"

I sighed. "I read you didn't want a dog until you were settled in one place. Alex, I'm sorry. I'm still trying to forget what I've read and just . . . I can't get over this whole weirdness thing being with -- hanging out with you." I sure didn't shut myself up that time. He shook his head and was about to say something when I said, "Imagine you have this major crush on this hot actress who you think is so totally hot that you'd make a complete ass out of yourself if you ever met her."

"You have a crush on me? You think I'm hot?" he asked with a wicked grin that I hated; it was adorable, but I hated it.

"Alex!" I bellowed then promptly smacked him on his thigh.

"If you don't STOP!" He actually laughed. "I get it, Carrie. I just wish it weren't so difficult for you."

"Me, too. It's getting easier, the more time I spend with you." I winked at him.

We finally finished eating, so I stood, took the tray and put it on the table. "I'm gonna jump in the shower so we can get out of here."

"Okay," he said, but he seemed to deflate a little. I didn't understand why, and I did try to figure it out while I was in the shower. I didn't come up with a damned thing.

After drying off with fresh towels, I reached for my clothes and cursed when I realized I hadn't grabbed them. I wrapped my hair around a towel and threw on one of the two robes that were then hanging; Alex must have gotten another from the maid earlier.

Walking out I announced, "I forgot my clothes." Alex looked up from sitting on the edge of the bed, where he'd been texting on his phone and stared at me -- a nerve-wracking, narrow-eyed, lustful stare. "What?" I asked, putting my hands on my hips.

He didn't say anything but typed a few more characters, placed the phone on the bed and came up to me. "Carrie, you have finally done it." The expression on his face changed into something I'd never seen before from him, since we'd met or on screen.

I immediately put my shield up because he was beginning to terrify me. I took a few steps back until the wall stopped my retreat. "What the hell have I done, Alex? Did I—"

He put his hands on my hips, making me put my hands flush against the wall. I wanted to melt away and disappear. "You have no idea how fucking beautiful you are like that. I wanted to kiss you after we ate, but—" So Mr. Skarsgard was going through his own internal battle, it seemed.

My apprehension diminished, and I smiled. "Thanks," I croaked, finding it amusing I wasn't shaking.

Without a word, and without me stopping him, he gently pulled me toward him a step then slowly moved his hands from my hips to the belt of the robe. Our eyes locked, my mind raced, and my heart started to pound. I wasn't ready for him to see my body, regardless of his words. Nothing could ease my insecurity of my plump body. I couldn't ignore the fear of him seeing me naked, or touching me.

The belt was loosened, and I closed my eyes waiting for the inevitable. I felt the heavy material hit my sides, yet he didn't part the front of the robe. My face instantly contorted.

"Carrie," he growled, his voice soft yet throaty. "Look at me." It took me a second, but I did. "We won't do this if you don't want to."

Oh, I want to, Alex. I really, really, really want to, I told myself as I nodded. Gathering all of my courage, biting my lip, I took the collar of the robe and pulled it back over my shoulders, letting it fall slowly down my arms, yet kept it firm in my elbows. My breasts and stomach were exposed, and I waited for him to run away screaming.

He didn't, but said, "Nu uh." He brought his hands toward my shoulders, the end of his palms brushed against my skin, making me sigh softly. He looked at me amused at my reaction before he pushed the robe back until it fell to the floor, then rested his hands on my full, fleshy hips. I reached up and unwound the towel from my head. The feel of my hair sweeping over my shoulders and upper back gave me goose bumps. He smiled. "Much, much better."

I returned his smile, though it was somewhat nervously. I kept waiting for him to change his mind and redress me, but he slowly ran his huge, flat hands over my stomach and upward between my breasts until he reached my collarbone. He looked at my neck curiously then ran his thumb over the scar. "I never noticed this before. Where'd you get it?"

"Neck fusion," I replied. Removing his hands, I grabbed one and walked him to the bed then turned around. "Alex, I sure as shit don't want to talk right now."