Chapter Text
Your tall, dark and handsome rescuer was a good driver, you had to admit it. His black XC 90 rolled effortlessly through the streets surrounded by the falling snow, the lights of the city center brightening the evening with their warm hues. Soon, you crossed the river, its waters reflecting the Christmas illuminations on the bridge, and drove towards the outskirts of the city. In silence, you tried not to notice the driver’s firm grip on the steering wheel nor the focused expression on his face that somehow made it even more attractive than before. Perhaps it was that glass of prosecco you drank at the party, but the presence of this complete stranger somehow, irrationally, made you feel at peace.
“How’s the leg?” He spoke when the steady hum of the car engine stopped at the red light.
You tried to move your foot a bit.
“It’s been worse. I just have to take it easy for a couple of days,” you admitted. Due to an old injury your ankle would give you trouble sometimes, especially after stumbling over something – and that’s exactly what happened that night. Uneven pavements and high-heeled pumps were not the best combination.
“Good,” he stole a glance at you. “My name is Thorin Ekensköld, by the way.”
You replied with your own name and added, “Ekensköld… It sounds like a very old surname.”
“You’d have to ask my brother about that. He’s the history buff in this family,” a shadow of a smile appeared on his face.
“A brother and a sister. And here I am, an only child. It had to be exciting, growing up with both of them.”
“It was,” he gave out a deep chuckle that seemed to reach your very core. “But I would be a complete liar if I claimed that I hadn’t wondered about how it would have been to be an only child. All three of us got into trouble three times as often as we should! Let me tell you about that time when Frerin, my brother, came up with the idea of going sledding with our baby sister…”
As Thorin told you the story quite vividly, making you laugh out more than once, you realized that you were in serious danger. Not only was he tall, dark and handsome, but also he had a great sense of humor. To make matters worse, your mind started to wonder how it would feel to walk beside him and hold his hand; to brush your fingers against his short, but well-groomed hair, or simply lay down with him and rest your head on his chest.
Ridiculous. You’d just met him. You didn’t know anything about the man. Besides, he could be in a relationship. He had to. With those looks, there were probably dozens of women, and probably men too, swooning at his feet. And if at least one of them caught his eye, well, no one in their right mind would let him go. You liked to think of yourself as a good person and had no intentions of ruining someone else’s happiness. And so what if this enticing specimen of manhood cast a glance or two at you from time to time? Men sometimes did, especially if you wore this little black dress you had on tonight. It didn’t mean they wanted to marry you. Marry. What a stupid idea. You had to get rid of those thoughts once and for all.
Deep in your thoughts, you barely noticed when you arrived at your house. Snow kept on falling from the sky, covering the surroundings with a thick white blanket, making the area glisten like diamonds in the moonlight. When Thorin opened your door and offered to carry you home, you decided to be firm in your conviction and asked him to support you while you walked, or rather limped on your own. It was much safer this way; you wasn’t sure whether you could trust yourself at this point. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the easiest of endeavors and by the time you reached your door, your feet were completely soaked, melted snow sloshing inside of your favorite pumps. This simply wasn’t your night. But the current situation was preferable to feeling those strong arms around you once again, breathing in his intoxicating scent, and dreaming about exploring his bare chest with your fingertips.
You somehow made it inside of your house and sat on the nearest chair in the kitchen, with the help from your new and impossibly handsome acquaintance.
“Would you like some coffee or tea?” You offered. “It’s the least I can do to thank you for the trouble.”
“Think nothing of it,” he waved his hand dismissively while you observed how slowly melting snowflakes formed pale little drops against the darkness of his beard. You fought off the urge of taking a towel, slowly drying them off, one by one, and finishing your ministrations with a slow, tender kiss to make sure he was properly warmed up.
“I wouldn’t say no to a cup of coffee, though,” he admitted, interrupting your thoughts.
You wanted to stand up and walk towards the coffee machine when your ankle protested. Apparently, that recent walk wasn’t the best idea.
“I’m sorry, but…” you started.
“How about I make the coffee for us and you tell me where to find everything?” Thorin interrupted you, taking off his coat.
You nodded and soon you were subjected to a new torture: the view of his broad back in his tailored black shirt, his trim waist accentuated by a leather belt, and his shapely buttocks covered by a pair of sinfully well-fitted black trousers. Your mouth went dry. He moved through your kitchen with confidence and deliberation, his presence filling the surroundings with a new, commanding energy. You gave out a small sigh of disappointment when it was time to focus on the cup of coffee in front of you instead on the physical qualities of your guest. And yet, you stole a quick glance at Thorin who sat across the table. It was hard not to notice how his lips wrapped against the edge of his cup; you could almost feel their warm softness adjusting to its curved shape. The coarseness of his dark beard against the smooth white surface.
He lifted his silvery blue eyes, meeting your gaze, and then the pink tip of his tongue appeared between his lips for a blink of an eye, licking off a stray drop of coffee. Your breath hitched.
“Delicious,” his murmur, strong and dark as the coffee in your cup, reached your ears and your very core at the same time.
“Excuse me?” You swallowed, looking at the cup held firmly in Thorin’s fingers. It looked small and fragile in his masculine hands.
“Your coffee,” he continued in a casual tone of voice while you ordered yourself to breathe. “I didn’t know you could get this particular Johan & Nyström blend south of Stockholm.”
“I have my ways,” you gave him a smile while his well-defined left brow wandered upwards, making your knees weak. It felt good to be sitting down. “So, you’re not from here?”
“I moved here recently. Business reasons. My company is opening a new office in the city. I have to say that I was sceptical at first, but now I see that the west coast has quite a few charms to offer,” his lips curled up playfully as he tilted his head.
It was official. You were in the process of losing your head over this man. His powerful presence; his mesmerizing gaze, piercing you to your very core; that voice of his, like the coffee you were drinking, dark chocolate mingled with rich hints of caramel, everything about him seemed to be perfectly attuned to you. Or was it the other way around? Logical thinking turned out to be an almost impossible task while he was around, overwhelming your senses. Handsome stranger or not, Thorin had no idea how lucky he was that the kitchen table stood between you, making it impossible for you to jump into his lap with the intention of checking whether his lips tasted like that coffee, propriety be damned. Trying to take your mind off the subject, you took another sip from your cup, knowing very well that you wouldn’t fall asleep that night and it wouldn’t have anything to do with that robust Johan & Nyström blend.
As you talked, both cups stood empty on the table, their handles touching, but your hands rested only centimeters from each other, unmoving. Even though you were engaged in a lively conversation about places each of you visited in the past, a part of your brain wondered what would happen if you slid your hand across the table and touched the tips of his well-manicured fingers. You didn’t act on this impulse, of course, but as you lifted your eyes from his hand, you met his penetrating stare. Was it the dim light in your kitchen or have Thorin’s eyes darkened slightly? You felt as if he expected you to say or do something specific, but you didn’t know what it was. Words died away on your lips. The silence between you seemed almost palpable as you drowned in the stormy sea of his gaze.
After what seemed to be an eternity, Thorin cleared his throat and blinked twice, somehow breaking the spell that seemed to entrance both of you. After taking a quick glance at his watch, he asked whether there was anything else he could help you with before he left. The genuine thoughtfulness in his words mixed with the inevitability of your parting made up a bittersweet cocktail of emotions.
You assured him that both you and your leg would be well and wished him a safe journey home. Soon after he left into the night, putting up the collar of his pea coat in an attempt to stave off the densely falling snow. Only after the sound of his SUV’s engine disappeared in the distance did you realize that you hadn't even asked for Thorin’s phone number. Perhaps it was for the best. Out of sight, out of mind, as they say.
When you took his cup from the table in order to put it into the dishwasher, you could still feel the lingering warmth in places where Thorin’s strong fingers held it mere moments ago. The sensation quickly passed, leaving you alone, once again surrounded by the silence of your home. It bothered you more than your aching ankle.