Nordic Lessons

• Title Page
  
• Prologue
  
• October in Oslo
  
• Chapter One
  
• The Devil You Know
  
• Chapter Two
  
• Party Central
  
• Chapter Three
  
• Eternal Enemies
  
• Chapter Four
  
• Profound Pleasure
  
• Chapter Five
  
• Pure Play
  
• Chapter Six
  
• Beneath Me
  
• Chapter Seven
  
• New Friendships
  
• Chapter Eight
  
• Verbal Thrashing
  
• Chapter Nine
  
• Arctic Bound
  
• Chapter Ten
  
• Longyearbyen, Svalbard
  
• Chapter Eleven
  
• Convergence
  
• Chapter Twelve
  
• Lisetta
  
• Chapter Thirteen
  
• Expect the Unexpected
  
• Chapter Fourteen
  
• Retribution
  
• Chapter Fifteen
  
• Lisetta’s Monster
  
• Chapter Sixteen
  
• Damage Control
  
• Epilogue
  
• Relentless Beauty
  

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

Fanny Press on Smashwords

Fanny Press

PO Box 70515

Seattle, WA 98127

For more information go to: www.fannypress.com

www.christineedwardsauthor.com

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Cover design by Sabrina Sun

Nordic Lessons

Copyright © 2014 by Christine Edwards

ISBN: 978-1-60381-552-9 (Trade Paper)

ISBN: 978-1-60381-553-6 (eBook)

Produced in the United States of America

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

* * *

Dedicated to a beautiful, sunshine surfer girl named Brianna.

This one’s for you, darling friend.

* * *

I’
d like to especially thank Emily H. of Fanny Press for your divine editing precision. It’s such a pleasure working with you!

Thank you to Jennifer M. and Catherine T. for assisting me in bringing this book as well as several others to life. It’s a wonderful honor to work with you talented ladies.

Special thanks to my amazing Norwegian cousins: Angelica, Lasse, Monika, and Christian. I greatly appreciate your time with all of the Norwegian translations.

Special thanks to Oscar Salas: your breathtaking motorcycle designs are truly works of art. Thank you for sharing your insights into the wild world of bikers.

Special thanks to my good friend Michael Whitehead for the British terms used in the book.

To all motorcycle riders, thank you for infusing the world with your zest for life.

To Florence & The Machine for their inspirational song “Strangeness & Charm.” With every listen I envision Mikkel and Elora’s intense love for each other.

W
hat captured my attention was her hair. The blazing color reminded me of random sunsets out at my lake house. Gorgeous or not, she is a major inconvenience. I seriously don’t have time for this shit, but what am I supposed to do? I can’t just leave her stranded on the side of the road. Night will fall soon, and from the looks of it she could’ve been out here for a while already.

The hood of her swank Jag is propped open and she’s peering down into the engine, her slim back turned, looking into the thing as if sheer willpower could magically start it back up for her. I shake my head as I pull my custom chopper over onto the shoulder of the E18 motorway and come to a rolling stop about fifty feet away from her disabled vehicle.

I hope that the loud growl of my engine, coupled with the noise from its dual pipes doesn’t startle her. Hell, she’ll be reluctant to take any form of assistance from me. I know how I look to strangers. Being so big and mostly clad in black leather tends to scare people, women in particular. I look like an intimidating, badass biker. Just putting it out there, straight up.

Classy women like her, regardless of the sexual pull they might feel for me, choose security. Yeah, they don’t go there. It’s not like I ever need action,
fuck no
. I turn down offers on a weekly basis, mostly because I lack any genuine interest. I know that most of them are just curious about my lifestyle, wanting to experiment with a bit of rough and naughty.

Not what I’m looking for at all.

No, my tastes and needs lean far toward the exotic. I don’t want to waste my time on another party girl. I’m always aloof, to guard my privacy. It’s easier that way. Not too many questions asked or gossip to throw around the club on weekends. I prefer to keep details about my relationships to a tight-fisted minimum. Period.

My last serious relationship with a submissive ended with hurt feelings on both sides. After the emotional breakup I decided to stay solo for a good long while. She ran her mouth like a fucking avalanche. Still does. She’s lucky she’s a woman. Otherwise that shit would have come to a halt a long time ago. As the president of Devil’s Wrath Motorcycle Club, I’ve found over the years that staying detached makes my life exponentially easier, if not lonely as hell. That’s fine by me. At least I have my emotional anonymity.

Parking my ride, I pull my helmet off and push my black polarized KDs up onto my head. I glance down to check my watch. Just after seven thirty p.m. I’ll have to phone Bern soon to see if he won’t mind firing up the wrecker tonight, assuming that he’s still working late on the Frenchman’s ride back at the garage, that is.

My black leather boots make a heavy crunching sound as my legs eat up the distance that separates us. Cars and trucks rush by at steady intervals, but she remains turned, leaning down, likely trying to figure out why the piece of shit isn’t working.
No big surprise there sweetheart. It’s British engineering.

In my opinion, the
only
two British car companies that are worth a damn are McLaren and Aston Martin. Yeah, fucking fierce cars, especially Aston’s DB9, but they come with equally high-roller price tags, making them nearly unobtainable, save for the uptight, jackass elite. I know a few people in town who drive them. Yeah, perfect fit, enough said.

I make my way closer to her and a long-dormant male interest ignites within me like a flare shot off in the darkness. A knee-length pale gray slim skirt clings snugly to a generous, rounded ass that just begs to be spanked. My right palm inadvertently quivers at that potent thought.

Oh, hell yeah.

Eyes dropping lower I notice that her legs are very toned and shapely, like those of a sprinter. Her skin is creamy pale and looks soft. I cock my head in appreciation of her sleek black heels. Oh, fuck yeah, I can already see them digging into my hips as I drive her hard. My cock hardens instantly at the wicked image of this woman’s lush assets.

God damn. If her face is half as visually stunning as the rest of her then maybe this detour will be well worth the effort ….

I don’t want to scare her. We’re close to the busy highway and she could easily stumble backwards.

I call out to her before getting too close, “
Trenger du hjelp
?”
Need help?

That’s all I say, knowing how deep and scary my voice would sound to an unsuspecting female. Women are normally apprehensive around me; at least until they come to understand that I would never harm them. There is nothing I can do about my size and appearance, case closed on that. She’ll certainly be shocked as shit when she sees me. I wait patiently for her to turn around.

Her shoulders tense just before she ducks out from beneath the silver hood. With a sweep of her small hand she moves her long, shiny red mane away from her face. I suck in a deep, involuntary breath. The force of her beauty hits me so hard that I nearly sway back a step in my heavy boots, uncertain of what my eyes are taking in. Almond shaped, arresting, aqua-colored eyes collide with mine a split second before flaring wide open in feminine alarm.

My brain can’t fucking absorb what’s before me. I remain motionless while drinking her in. That stunning hair, loose in natural waves, hangs down far below her breasts. They’re tragically hidden from my view beneath a light blue sweater. Plump, shimmering pink lips are set within a perfect, heart-shaped face. Her pretty nose is small, just like the rest of her. She can’t be more than a few inches over five feet tall. She’s like some gorgeous damn angel come down to earth.

In a flash of panic I wonder if I could have wrecked my bike without knowing it.
Could this be Valhalla or some sort of fucking afterlife?
Swiftly shaking the confusion away I get busy and watch her closely. Her full, lush mouth slowly parts as if she might be on the verge of saying something to me. I freeze and nearly hold my breath.

Damn, I hope she’s not about to scream. Yeah, that would just blow.

Fuck me. I
must
be hallucinating because I had no idea that beauty like this could actually exist.

Oh yeah, this is so my lucky day ….

* * *

Alexander is going to murder me!
The gnawing thought keeps bouncing about in my brain as I hear a loud motor pull off the road behind me.
If I had listened to him and kept my hands off his beloved vintage car, then I would never have found myself in this dreadful situation! Damn … damn!

The roar of the engine cuts off, followed almost immediately by crunching gravel. Seconds later an incredibly deep male voice calls out to me, “
Trenger du hjelp
?”