Three Swedish Mountain Men: A Reverse Harem Romance
Three Swedish Mountain Men: Chapter 8

Riven’s right; the storm does stop. By noon, the snowfall is just a gentle pitter, and by two, the skies are completely clear. The guys all convene in the lounge, getting ready to shovel snow before it freezes. I tag along and start getting dressed, too.

“We really can handle it ourselves,” Riven says, frowning. “I don’t want you to aggravate your neck.”

“My neck is fine,” I insist. “Really. The pills worked; it doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

He gives me a stern look. “Just because you’re not experiencing pain, doesn’t mean that you’re not injured.”

“I’ll be careful,” I promise. “Seriously. I’m not going to sit around like a princess while you do all the work.”

He sighs, handing me a shovel. It’s so big I struggle to lift it. Jesus. Being around the guys makes me feel like I’ve shrunk. Everything about them is big; their bodies, their equipment, their furniture. And, unfortunately, their clothes.

“You can wear your little pink jacket as an undercoat,” Eli says, sifting through the hall closet. “But you’ll need something on top until you work up a sweat.” I peep under his arm and see that the closet is full of skiwear, tightly packed together.

“Wow. You have so many jackets.”

“Get one every tournament,” he says distractedly, pulling out a red jacket, holding it up against me, then shoving it back in.

“You compete?”

“He’s a national champion downhill skier,” Riv cuts in, tying his bootlaces. I get a brief glimpse of tight, rounded glutes as he bends over, before forcing myself to look away, my face heating.

“Here you are.” Eli pulls out a puffy white jacket with his name emblazoned across the back. “This one’s a bit small for me, so it might not completely drown you.” He helps me into it, and I try to fasten it up, but some of my hair gets tangled in the zip. I wince as my scalp burns, trying to tug myself free, but the strands are wedged tight in the little zipper.

Suddenly, I feel big hands on my shoulders. I go very still as the dark scent of spice and whiskey fills my nose. Cole carefully eases the zipper free, then twists my hair together in a ponytail, tucking it down the back of my coat. His fingers are unbelievably gentle, sending sparks rushing across my skin. I swallow through my dry mouth as he steps back.

“Thank you,” I say.

“Why is she even coming?” He grumbles. “How is she going to shovel snow when she can’t even dress herself?”

I scowl at him. “Oh, I’m sure she can learn. She’s not totally stupid.” I might be small, but I’m strong.

He raises an eyebrow, pulls a pair of gloves out of his pocket, and tosses them over his shoulder at me. “Just try not to freeze,” he mutters.

Finally, we’re all suited and booted, and we step out into the snow. It’s the first time I’ve properly seen where the boys live, and the view takes my breath away. We’re midway up the mountain, looking down over forests of pines. Everything has been blanketed in snow, and the whole landscape glimmers, flashing delicate blue and silver as it reflects the early spring sunlight. I look up. Peaks rise around us, looming over our heads. “Wow.”

Eli grins. “Sweet, right?”

“More than sweet.” I look around, taking everything in. My fingers itch for a paintbrush, and I wince as I remember my mangled canvases. I’ll have to make sure to get some great reference photos before I leave. “What’s that over there?” I point to a dilapidated stone hut on the edge of the drive. Eli follows my gaze.

“Oh. That’s the shack. It’s where the previous owner kept firewood and supplies and stuff. It was way too small for us, so we built the barn instead. We should really get around to knocking it down.”

There’s a clanging noise, and I turn to see Cole grab a ladder attached to the side of the cabin. Heaving his rake over one shoulder, he starts climbing up onto the roof one-handed.

I watch him go. “Is that safe?”

Riven shrugs. “He’s not died yet.” He turns to Eli. “I’ll take the barn. You two do the drive?”

Eli nods. Riv disappears towards the huge shed while Eli and I tramp down to the road. A strong wind breezes past us and I shiver, even through both my coats. “Jesus. How cold is it?”

Eli stamps, cocking his head. “I’d say about minus twenty?” He hazards cheerfully.

“How do you know?”

He shrugs. “This is what the snow sounds like at minus twenty. Don’t worry. You’ll soon warm up.” He passes me my shovel. “Now remember. Lift with your legs.”

Half an hour later, I am a snow shovelling machine. Heave. Lift. Drop. Heave. Lift. Drop. I heave and lift and drop over and over again, clearing the snow as fast as I possibly can. It’s tiring work, and all of my muscles are aching, but I don’t care. I throw myself into it. I want to pull my weight. And I want to show Cole that I’m not completely useless.

A trickle of sweat drips down the back of my neck, and I stick my shovel in the growing pile of displaced snow, straightening to unzip Eli’s jacket and tie it around my waist. I look around, panting. A little wave of triumph hits me when I see the section that I’ve cleared is almost as big as Eli’s.

He’s stopped shovelling too, and is leaning against a pine, looking at me. Not doing anything. Just looking.

“What?” I call.

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Just watching you.”

I huff, turning back to the snow. “Creep.” I dig my shovel back into the snow and heave to lift it up, all the muscles in my arm shaking.

Something hard thumps into my back, almost knocking me over. I whip around to see Eli patting together another snowball. “What was that for?!”

He shrugs. “You called me a creep. That’s not nice. I’m very offended.” He bends for more snow, and I take in the view. He’s taken off his jacket, too, so I can see his sweater-covered muscles in all their glory. His high cheekbones are stained pink from the cold, and his coppery hair is ruffled. He looks fucking delicious.

I wipe snow off my shoulder. “If you don’t wanna be called a creep, maybe stop staring at me.”

“But you’re so nice to look at.” He straightens. “Here. Catch.”

“Catch wha—”

He pulls his arm back and lobs the snowball right at my face. I gasp as it hits my cheek, so cold it almost feels like a burn. Without thinking, I drop my shovel and jump, grabbing a branch of the pine tree spreading over us and shaking it hard. Eli yelps as a pile of snow slides down over him.

“Shit!” He bends and grabs at the snow, balling up another sloppy snowball, and I dash for cover. The snowball flies right by my face, clipping my ear, and I frantically grab my own lump of snow to chuck back at him.

Soon, we’re in the middle of a full-blown snowball fight. We batter each other, not pulling any punches. He’s not holding back because I’m smaller than him; he’s using every ounce of strength in his giant athlete’s body to beat me. And it’s fun. So much fun. I feel like a kid. Eli is so playful, it’s bringing out a light-heartedness in me that I haven’t felt in months. I’ve been so worried about my scummy ex, it’s like I’ve forgotten how to just enjoy myself. And now this man, with his lazy smile and constant teasing, has brought that part of me back out of hiding.

I love it.

I peek out from the tree I’ve been hiding behind, sending my own missile flying towards him and hooting in triumph when it hits him dead in the forehead. He scowls, shaking snow out of his hair like a wet dog, then bends and sweeps up armfuls of snow, packing it together. My eyes widen when I see how big the ball is getting. “Don’t you dare!” I shout over the wind. He grins, scooping up more and more snow. I drop to the ground to make my own giant ball, but when I look up again, he’s standing, hefting a lump of snow bigger than my head.

“Any last words?” He calls.

I back up slowly, holding my hands in the air. “Eli—”

He lifts his arms back to throw, and I turn on my heel and run. I barely get three steps away before the giant snowball hits me in the back. Knocked off balance, I trip on one of my snowshoes, skid, and slip over, landing on my ass. I groan and roll over, looking up at the pale blue sky. My blood pounds in my ears. Freezing snow falls down the back of my jacket.

I feel more alive than I have in a long time.

There’s a crunching sound as Eli jogs up to me, panting. “Wipeout,” he crows. “You good?”

I can’t resist fucking with him. I wince, propping myself up on my elbows. “I’m not sure. Think I twisted my ankle.”

The smile drops right off his face. “Shit. Really? RIV—” He steps closer, giving me the opening I need. I grab at his knee and yank, pulling him down just like I saw him do to Cole last night. He lands on top of me, our limbs all tangled together. “Motherfucker.”

“Sorry,” I giggle. “It was too tempting.”

He tuts. “Babe, if you wanted to get under me, you could’ve just asked.” He settles himself more comfortably on top of me. I push at him, but he just makes himself even heavier, pinning me to the ground. He bends so close his curls brush my face. Little forks of electricity flicker in my belly. My eyes trace over his twinkling green eyes, cataloguing the tiny starburst of freckles under his eyebrow, the faded scar on his cheekbone.

“Do you surrender?” He practically purrs.

“Never,” I whisper.

“Reaaally,” he draws the word out.

I can’t breathe right. His chest is pressing against mine; I can feel the solid muscle crushing my breasts. My stomach flips over and over as his eyes drop to my mouth.

I want to kiss him, I realise. I want to kiss him so badly my lips ache. I want a bit of his sunny happiness for myself. His lashes lower, and he dips his head until our lips are almost brushing. I let my eyes fall shut, tilting my mouth up to his, and a low, appreciative rumble rattles through him. He bends lower, his lips barely grazing mine—

I reach out, grab a handful of snow, and stuff it down the neck of his jumper.

He chokes and shudders as it slides down his chest. “Oh, fuck—”

“Never!” I announce again, grinning.

He scowls at me and twists to scoop up his own handful. I cringe, expecting a faceful of snow. Instead, he just gets a tiny pinch between his fingers. My heart stutters as he leans forward, his eyes are very intent on my face, and touches the freezing crystals to my lips. I whimper at the freezing sensation. A breath knocks through his body at the sound, all of his muscles tensing. His hand spreads over my neck, tilting my jaw up.

“Let me get that,” he rasps.

I nod, letting my eyes flutter shut as he finally kisses me.

It’s a tiny kiss, as if he’s sipping the snow right back off my lips. The feeling of his hot mouth on my freezing skin is almost orgasmic. I sigh, gripping hard into his shoulders, and kiss him back, hard. He groans, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into him.

Eli kisses exactly how I expected him to: playful and nipping and sweet. A thrill washes over me as he presses a tiny kiss to my bottom lip, then sucks it slowly into his mouth, his hands stroking me through all of my layers. He clearly knows what he’s doing. Sam always kissed me the exact same way, like he was following a routine; five seconds closed-mouthed, ten seconds frenching, rinse and repeat. Eli’s much more natural, moving on top of me, responding to every little twitch of my body and sigh that leaves my lips.

The scent of pine fills my senses as he nudges my lips open with his and slips his tongue against mine. My head spins. I grab a fistful of his sweater, and he makes a deep purr in the back of his throat. The sound rumbles through me, making my stomach flutter and my breasts ache. I shiver against him, tilting my head, pressing even closer into his chest. Our tongues stroke silkily together.

Without thinking, my hands drift to the hem of his sweater. I slip off my gloves and slide my fingers under the hem of his shirt, feeling his burning skin and hot, hard muscle. The snow at my back is freezing, seeping through my ski jacket; but the man on top of me is like a furnace, radiating heat, and I just want to cuddle up to him. I run my fingers across the ridges of his muscles, and he shudders over me, letting loose a low moan right by my ear. His lips leave mine, trailing down my cheek and across to my throat. His curls tickle my skin as he starts pressing hot, sucking kisses down the side of my neck. I can feel wetness starting to pool between my legs, and arch as he hits a particularly sensitive spot.

Suddenly, he stills, then pulls back, ignoring the little whine I make when his lips leave my skin. He pushes some hair behind my ear. “Hey. It’s tingling.”

I open my eyes, blinking through the lust hazing my brain. “Huh?”

“It’s definitely tingling,” he says, staring intently at my neck. “Shit. That’s so fucking cute.”

“What’s tingling? Your dick?” I buck my hips, feeling the hardening bulge between his legs.

He grunts, grinding down on me in return, and my mouth falls open on a pant. “Not tingling. Tingeling.” He strokes a finger behind my ear, making me shiver, and I realise he’s brushing his fingertip over my tattoo. It’s a tiny fairy silhouette, about as long as my fingernail, tucked behind my ear.

“You mean Tinkerbell? I got her after I went to Disney a couple years back.”

“Tinkerbell. She’s called Tingeling in Swedish.” He tips his head, taking me in. “Hm. It’s fitting. You’re both about the same size.”

I narrow my eyes. “Not a massive fan of the height jokes,” I warn.

He grins impishly. “Aww. What are you gonna do? Kick me in the ankles?”

“Probably someplace higher. I think if I stretch, I can just about reach your balls.”

“Thank God. Imagine the tragedy, if you couldn’t reach my balls!” He nuzzles into my neck. “Baby, you’re shaking. You’re getting too cold. C’mon.” He kisses my tattoo. “Let’s get you warmed up.” He stands and takes my hand. The world tips in a blur of white as I’m pulled upright. He takes my hand, gathering both our shovels in the other, and we trail back to the house. My whole body is humming. My lips are tingling. I can feel heat coursing through my veins, lighting me up inside.

What the Hell was that? I peep up at the side of Eli’s handsome face as we stamp through the snow. What happens now? Do we just go inside and pretend it didn’t happen? Do we kiss again? I don’t think I’ve ever kissed a stranger outside of a nightclub before. I couldn’t help myself. It seemed so natural.

Eli squeezes my hand. “Relax, Tink. You want some hot chocolate? I make it from scratch.”

I shake my head, like I can toss out all of the loud, clamouring thoughts knocking around my brain. “Please.”

We step back into the cabin. Riven’s already there, sitting at the kitchen table in front of his laptop.

“Have fun?” He asks, not bothering to look up.

I blush, toeing off my boots. “Eli’s a child. He started a snowball fight.”

“I’m sure he’s enjoying having someone to play with,” he drawls, then nods at my phone. “I put your phone on charge. Someone called Sam keeps calling you.”

My head jerks up. “What?”

He blinks, taken aback by my reaction. “I didn’t mean to pry. His name popped up.”

I shake off my coat and half-run across the room to swipe my phone. A text from Sam glares up at me, and my stomach drops. I quickly delete the message without looking at it. “He’s my ex-boyfriend. We broke up a few months ago, but he still won’t leave me alone.”

Eli whistles, setting a pan on the stove. “That’s shitty.”

“Yeah. It really is.”

Pretty much everything about Sam was shitty, to be honest. I met him about four years ago, at an art show. He swept me off my feet. The longer we were together, though, the more he changed. He was jealous. He kept trying to cut me off from my friends. He didn’t let me speak to other men. I know a red flag when I see one. I gave him some time to clean up his act, and when he didn’t, I left.

And then he showed me exactly how shitty of a person he was.

Sighing, I roll through the rest of my notifications. I have hundreds, mostly texts from old acquaintances who have seen me on the news. There are outraged emails from my students’ parents. Multiple missed calls from the school. I delete them all, trying my best not to look at them, then open up the email box for my painting business. After my big scandal, I’m not expecting any clients; but I guess all publicity is good publicity, because I have a handful of portrait commission requests. Well, three, to be exact, and then a couple of emails from people calling me a whore. Because this is my life now.

Eli puts his chin on my shoulder and holds a square of chocolate against my lips. His curls brush my cheek. “What’s that?”

I quickly delete an anonymous message with the subject line DIE YOU SLUT BITCH, clearing my throat. “Um… my commissions email. I have a couple people who want paintings done.” I open my mouth, letting him pop the chocolate inside.

“Commissions?” Riven’s fingers pause over his keyboard. “I thought you were a teacher?”

I lick my lips. “I’m… ah. Taking a break from teaching right now. I really only do it for the money. My degree is in Fine Arts. I always wanted to be a painter.”

The stove crackles, and Eli goes to check on the hot chocolate. I can practically see the wheels turning in Riv’s head as he pieces the jigsaw together. “Oh? And that’s why you had all that painting equipment in your car?”

I nod. “I actually came up here to paint the Northern Lights. I always wanted to see them, and I needed a holiday, so I figured now was the right time.”

“Hm.” He purses his lips. “Is there a big market for oil paintings nowadays?”

“You’d be surprised. It’s a pretty common wedding gift. People like to have portraits of their families, and stuff. I prefer landscapes, but—” I shrug, uncomfortable with the line of questioning. “Whatever gets the clients, I guess.”

He taps his full bottom lip with the end of his pen. “Do you have a website? I’d love to see some of your work.”

There’s no way in Hell. “It’s under construction,” I say brightly. “Sorry.”

He frowns slightly. “How are you able to get clients if your website is down?”

I open my mouth to try to answer, but luckily, Eli interrupts the interrogation, plonking four steaming mugs on the table. He strokes a hand lightly down my arm. “Wanna check out your bedroom?” He murmurs in my ear. “Cole set it up last night. Probably more comfortable than our sofa.” He pauses. “Definitely more private.”

I think I see Riven roll his eyes. I jump at the chance to get away, picking up two hot chocolates. “Lead the way.”

Eli shows me down the hallway to a door I haven’t seen before, standing aside to let me inside. I get a brief glimpse of a little cot bed and a lamp, before Eli dumps the mugs on the floor, spins me around, and pins me up against the wall, his mouth slanting over mine in a deep, slow kiss. His lips are soft and taste like chocolate, and I sigh, melting under him.