Hannah. (Van Den Bosch #7)

Chapter 19

19

Hannah

When the morning light creeps into my dorm room, twenty minutes before my alarm is set to go off, I wake up happier than I’ve been in weeks.

If I’m brave enough to go through with it, I'll be leaving with Johan tonight to go to one of his family’s vacation cottages, just him and I. The idea makes a little tickle of anticipation flutter in my stomach—what he’s got planned for me is all too obvious. We've all but agreed on it.

But am I ready for that?

I think so. Johan makes me so comfortable that very little fear remains inside me—just a bit of nerves.

After being covered head to toe in the rain, I had to shower last night, so I skip it this morning. Spending extra time on my hair and picking out something that will be cute but comfortable for the drive, my mind wanders back to the single thing bothering me—where the heck did Astrid disappear to?

After anticipating her staying over for the night, it was a surprise to return to my dorm and see the empty bed. She didn't leave a note, and there weren't even any texts from her. Even more concerning, she ignored the ones I sent her before passing out last night. Maybe she just slept in really late or forgot to charge her phone? I send one more text out and put the subject out of my mind. Just a few classes, and I will be free.

Today's outfit is a soft pair of jeans, a cropped sweater, and ankle boots. It’s comfortable and casual but cute enough that Johan will probably stare a little longer than usual. Smiling, I head out the door, bag thrown over my shoulder, and head towards class.

Everything is great until lunch, when I find that Astrid is still not answering my texts. It’s starting to really worry me, and as soon as I get back to my dorm room after my classes are finished, I try calling her. No answer.

My stomach is rolling with anxiety now, and I chew my bottom lip. Astrid isn't avoiding me....is she? Pacing my dorm room, I call her once more, and again, there is still no answer. Blowing out a frustrated breath, I throw my phone into my purse and give it up for now. There are a million reasons why she might not be answering me, and worst of all, more than a few of those reasons could end up with her pissed at me. Did she find the letter from Johan that I had hidden in my bag? The bouquet didn't have any name on it, and she didn’t even pay attention to it, so it’s not like she would suspect it was from him.

That thought makes guilt eat away at my chest. Not only have I been making out with Johan, the man whom she clearly has strong feelings for, but I also stole from her exhibit and left her in the middle of the night in my dorm to go and speak to said man.

I don't think of myself as a bad person, but hell...maybe I’m a bad friend.

I have to look out for myself and my happiness, though. This weekend is for me and the culmination of years of crushing on Johan. They aren't really dating. Besides betraying Astrid's trust, there is nothing technically wrong with what I’m doing.

Ugh. Maybe if I keep telling myself that, I will finally believe it.

Closing my eyes, I inhale and exhale slowly, sitting on my bed until the anxiety abates. There's no time for those thoughts now. Not when Johan is waiting on me.

Packing is harder than I thought it would be. Normally, it would take me no time to pack for a weekend, but this weekend is different. A weekend alone with Johan...the possibilities are endless.

Pulling out my duffel bag, I carefully pack my essentials for the weekend. I include a couple of warm sweaters and long-sleeve blouses, perfect for layering in the cool November air. A comfy yet chic dress and a stylish skirt make their way into the bag, along with my favorite pair of jeans and a pair of elegant trousers. I add cozy pajamas and, with a blush, switch out some of my everyday undergarments for matching lacy sets. Several pairs of underwear and a few bras also find their place in the duffel. A fashionable coat, scarf, gloves, and a hat are necessary for the cooler evenings. I finish packing with my favorite ankle boots, and a pair of elegant flats. Given today's forecast, I decide to keep my trusty rain boots on my feet, ensuring I stay dry and comfortable.

Finally, I have the bag packed and ready to go. Johan is supposed to pick me up in an hour, and I can already feel butterflies swarming in my stomach. Grabbing a small make-up bag, I stuff it into the duffel and zip up the entire thing.

Astrid still isn’t calling me back, so after a moment's hesitation, I send Conrad a quick text, asking if he’s seen her. After getting a negative response, I turn my phone off and drop it into my jacket pocket. Hopefully, once the weekend is over, I'll hear from her, and we'll continue business as usual. I'll have to tell her about me and Johan eventually, but not now.

At 3 pm sharp, there's a knock on my dorm door. My heart is in my throat. I open it, and Johan is standing there. He's smiling, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, his hair pushed out of his face, and he looks devastatingly handsome.

He leans down to press a chaste kiss on my cheek, and the simple contact sends shivers down my spine. “Ready to go?”

I nod, my nerves tightening my throat. "Yeah, let's get out of here.”

As soon as we're in his car and on the road, our nervous energy dissipates, and conversation flows easily.

“How was your day?” Johan asks, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.

“Fine, but I think Astrid is avoiding me.” I shrug, leaning back into the seat. “It’s weird. I can't help but worry that she knows….”

Johan reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Don’t start worrying about her. You haven’t done anything wrong; that's all on my shoulders. So what if she figures things out? It won’t be the end of the world.”

“I know,” I sigh, shoulders falling. “She'll definitely be upset, though. At both of us, probably, and I care for her so much. Do you think that?—”

“Hannah, let's not talk about her or anyone else right now, okay? Please,” he insists, half smiling. “Let's make a deal—no talk of Astrid at all this weekend, okay? This is time for just you and me.”

He's right. Worrying about Astrid should take a backseat if this weekend is about him and me. Forcing myself to relax, I squeeze his hand back and let the motion of his car relax me.

“No talking about Astrid…got it. Now, what do you have planned for the weekend?”

“That is a surprise.” Johan’s grin is playful, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief that makes me both curious and slightly apprehensive.

I give him a suspicious look. “Seriously?”

His smile broadens, charming yet enigmatic. “Yes and no. I don't have any firm plans; I figured we'd see where fate takes us. But the house staff knows we're arriving and has everything prepared.”

Swallowing hard, I think about what he means by “fate”. Does he plan on showing me the quaint little town, or does he plan for us to stay in bed all weekend? The thought makes my mouth go dry.

The drive to Portmeirion is quiet and expectant, filled with an unspoken anticipation that hangs thick between us. Johan’s mood is light, yet there's an undercurrent of tension—a blend of excitement and nervousness—that seems to electrify the air. As the scenery changes, transitioning from urban sprawl to Wales’s lush, verdant landscapes, my thoughts oscillate between wonder at the unfolding beauty outside and trepidation about what awaits us. Johan's occasional glances, filled with mischief and secrecy, do nothing to quell the fluttering in my stomach.

As we approach our destination after a four-hour drive, the evening sky melds into a palette of deep oranges and purples, the last vestiges of daylight clinging to the horizon. Johan pulls up in front of a stunningly picturesque estate. Its cheerful yellow and white facade gleams under the sunset hour, exuding a warmth that beckons us.

“Johan,” I breathe, captivated by the charm of the place, “this place is absolutely gorgeous!”

He parks the car and kills the engine, turning to me with a cocky smirk. “Glad you approve.” His confidence is both reassuring and disarming.

We step out, and the cool evening air is a crisp contrast to the warmth of the car's interior. Walking into the cottage, a staff member greets us briefly before Johan dismisses her after a quick tour of the amenities.

“They'll serve us breakfast and then leave us to our own devices until Sunday,” he explains casually, his arm slipping around my waist as he guides me deeper into the cottage.

The interior is cozy, with creams and soft blue tones that create a serene atmosphere. Johan leads me through a tastefully decorated living room and past a quaint kitchen to our bedroom. The double doors are invitingly open, revealing a spacious room dominated by an enormous four-post bed draped with a soft, quilted white duvet. My heart skips a beat at the sight.

He casually tosses our suitcases inside, his actions nonchalant as if urging me not to dwell on the details just yet. When his gaze locks with mine, he asks, “You hungry?”

Finding my voice slightly shaky, I manage a nod. “Starving, actually.”

His thumb gently brushes my cheekbone in a tender gesture. “Good thing I had them prepare dinner for us, then. Come with me.” His touch sends a warm shiver down my spine.

He leads me through the cottage to a glass-enclosed terrace that looks like something out of a fairy tale. The outside darkness enhances the glow from the numerous candles placed around the terrace, their flickering light casting a warm and intimate ambiance. Johan pulls out a chair for me at a beautifully set table, the glass walls providing a clear view of the night sky.

My fingers curl around the edge of the tablecloth, overwhelmed by the romantic setting. “Johan...this is amazing. You did all of this? Just for me?”

He appears slightly embarrassed, a rare flush on his cheeks. “Well, I did have a bit of help. But you’re worth it.”

As the server quietly sets down our meal and another presents a bottle of red wine, my heart races with a cocktail of emotions—delight, nervousness, and a deep, burgeoning affection. The waiter expertly uncorks the bottle, showing us the label. “My suggestion for this evening would be this 2018 Chateau Margaux, a great red to pair with the main course,” he announces, pouring a small dose into the first glass. “Who shall try the wine?”

Johan nods to me, gesturing with his hand. I take a deep breath, swirling the wine in my glass before taking a sip. I let the flavors linger on my palate, then smile and nod in approval.

“This is quite good,” I say, handing the glass back to the waiter. “Is this a blend of Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot?”

The waiter nods in admiration, clearly impressed. “Excellent palate, madam. It also has a touch of Petit Verdot for added complexity.”

As the server pours the wine for both of us and leaves us alone, Johan looks at me with newfound respect and curiosity. “How did you know what grapes were in it?”

I smile, feeling a warm glow of pride. “My dad taught me a lot about wine. We used to go on trips to vineyards just to taste different wines. He always believed that understanding wine is about appreciating the story behind each bottle.”

Johan leans in, clearly intrigued. “What else did he teach you?”

I take another sip of wine, savoring its depth. “He taught me to pay attention to the nuances—the balance of acidity, the texture of the tannins, the finish that lingers on your palate. This wine, for example, has rich notes of blackberry and plum, with a subtle hint of vanilla and spice, likely from French oak barrels.”

Johan watches me, his amusement now blended with genuine admiration. “That's fantastic. And besides wine?”

I laugh softly, feeling more relaxed, and ponder his question for a moment. “He taught me that life is full of complexities and sometimes the most valuable lessons come from the toughest challenges.”

He nods, his face laced with admiration. “That’s a great lesson.” He then raises his glass in a toast. “To the toughest challenges. May we always come out on top.”

Our glasses clink over the flickering candlelight, signaling the start of a weekend that promises to be unforgettable.

I take a sip, and the crisp red wine rolls over my tongue. As we start eating, I glance down at my plate and am struck by how everything has been so well planned. The dish in front of me is a beautifully presented filet mignon with creamy mashed potatoes and roasted vegetables. Each bite is a delightful blend of flavors and textures.

I can't help but think about the effort and thought that went into planning this evening. From the exquisite wine to the beautifully prepared meal, Johan has considered every detail to make this moment special.

“So much for seeing where fate takes us,” I tease, trying to hide how much my heart swells with appreciation and a deeper affection for him, realizing just how much he cares. “I bet you have more plans than you’re letting on and that you’re just trying to pretend to be all loose and carefree.”

Johan laughs, the sound sending a thrill through my body. “Guilty. But I promise, no rush. We're going to do whatever you want.”

The look in his eyes is making me squirm in my seat. “Whatever I want?”

“Whatever you want.” Those three little words are loaded with meaning. How can he stand to eat with all this tension building between us?

Clearing my throat, I force myself to take another bite of the filet mignon and mashed potatoes. “Well, we'll see if you can keep that promise.”

Johan picks up his own fork and digs into the meal, his gaze never leaving mine.

After dinner, with the stars winking to life above our heads, Johan lays a coat over my shoulders and then takes my hand, leading me out of the terrace for a walk around the cottage. The night air is cool and crisp, filled with the mingling scents of salt from the sea and the faint fragrance of the rose garden.

We walk in comfortable silence, the gravel crunching softly beneath our feet. As we stroll through the garden, the moonlight guides our path, casting a silvery glow on the blooming roses. Johan's hand is warm and reassuring in mine, and I can feel my heart beat faster with every step.

He leads me up a gentle incline toward the cliffside. When we reach the top, the ocean stretches out before us, a vast expanse of glittering black water. The waves crash rhythmically against the rocks below, their sound a soothing backdrop to the stillness of the night.

“Wow,” I whisper, my eyes wide as I take in the breathtaking view. The moon reflects off the water, creating a shimmering pathway that seems to lead straight to the horizon.

“I come here every time I have a chance. It’s always been one of my favorite places,” Johan says softly, his voice blending with the sound of the waves.

I turn to look up at him. “I can see why.” The moonlight bathes his face, highlighting his strong cheekbones and long eyelashes. He looks so handsome and striking that it takes my breath away.

“I never thought I’d have the chance to bring you here,” Johan whispers, his voice husky with emotion. “And yet...here you are.”

“Here I am,” I echo, feeling a profound connection to this place and to him. The moment feels timeless as if the world has paused just for us.

Slowly, carefully, he turns to me. His fingers reach up, pushing a strand of hair out of my face and cupping my cheek. Silence stretches between us, long and charged, and my mind is filled with the million questions I’ve been trying to hold back. It’s so beautiful here; everything is so romantic, but my thoughts keep circling back to one thing.

Are we going to have sex tonight? Am I ready?

Johan smiles, the expression gentle, and I see him lean in closer. He's going to kiss me, and this time, I know that there's no stopping him, no interruptions, and no one around to witness. It’s just him, me, and the stars.

I lean into him, ready to taste him again, and his lips brush mine softly. His arms come around my waist, and he holds me tightly, kissing me tenderly. Then his hand slides down my neck, along my shoulder and hip, and finally rests on the small of my back. I feel the heat of his hand seeping through the fabric, making me shudder.

Johan's kisses grow hotter, his teeth nip at my lower lip, and his fingers dig into my skin. There's no doubt in my mind what he wants, and the molten sensation coursing through me makes it clear that I crave it just as much. New things don't usually scare me—I’m usually the most adventurous of my siblings, but this is different. Besides going to Cambridge, I can't remember anything I have wanted as badly as Johan.

He breaks the kiss slowly, sliding his nose against mine and kissing the corner of my mouth before separating.

“Come on,” Johan tells me, his voice low and warm. “Let’s finish that wine, and then we'll head up to the bedroom. What do you say?”

“Sounds good,” I manage, despite feeling the weakness in my knees.

After a while, Johan guides me back down into the rose garden, stopping by the terrace to grab the half-empty bottle of wine and two glasses. We then sit outside on a porch swing, and Johan pours each of us a glass and then settles back. The swing gently rocks us as we sip our wine, basking in the magic of the night.

“What a beautiful night,” I breathe, looking up at the sky in amazement. “You can really see the stars here.”

Johan chuckles. “One of the many reasons I love this place so much is that the beach is only a mile away, so sometimes, you can hear the waves if you listen carefully.”

I close my eyes and concentrate, and sure enough, I can faintly hear the waves. Smiling, I lean over and put my head on his shoulder. Johan is still for a moment before his arm comes around my shoulder and pulls me tighter.

“You’re so beautiful, Hannah,” he tells me softly.

Heat burns my cheeks, both from the compliment and the wine. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”

He finishes his glass and sets it aside, motioning for me to do the same. I down the rest of the red and sit my glass on the ground next to the swing. When I pivot back to face Johan, he’s already there, cupping my face and pulling me in for a kiss that is so much more heated than the one we shared earlier.

His tongue brushes my lower lip, and when I part them, he delves deeper, tasting me. His tongue strokes against mine and sends a lightning bolt of arousal shooting through my body.

Before I realize it, Johan has his hands on my hips, pulling me into his lap. Instinctively, I straddle him, feeling his erection pressing against me. Johan groans and breaks the kiss, staring up at me with eyes full of heat.

Johan takes things slow, his hands stroking up and down my thighs, over the curve of my hips, and his thumb brushing against the underside of my breasts. Part of me wants him to take us upstairs already, but the other part wants to luxuriate in this moment and the feeling of his lips ghosting over my jawbone.

“I’ve imagined doing this so many times,” he murmurs, his voice husky. “This is perfect.”

My hands fist in his shirt, and I lean into him, feeling the cool air brushing against my heated cheeks. He kisses a path to my neck, barely making contact with his lips until he finds a spot he likes, marking it with his tongue and teeth and making my breathing hitch.

Johan lifts his head, his eyes dark and full of desire. “It’s getting a little cold out here. Want to go inside and continue this?”

All I can do is nod. His words and the intent behind them have stolen mine.

Johan picks me up and sets me on my feet, then stands, gathering the wine glasses and empty bottle, and leads the way back into the cottage.

The whole way back, he’s touching me, his fingers grazing my elbow, the small of my back, and he cups my ass briefly. By the time we're in the master bedroom, my entire body is tingling and aching for his touch.

Johan is on me, all around me, using his body to corral me until my shoulders hit the bedroom door. He grabs one of my legs and hooks it around his waist, and as if we’re on the same wavelength, I immediately pull him closer with it until our hips are flush. Johan grinds himself against my heated core, and when I close my eyes to suck in a breath, I see a million stars.

Oh, it’s going to be a long night.