Ice Hard

by Tracy Goodwin

  God knows we’ve got the scorching sexual chemistry and then some. I want the intimacy that follows and to show her that a future between us is possible. If she lets me in. If she stays in town.

  I’m willing to take any risk. Even the risk of heartbreak. Because something tells me that Camille is worth it and so much more. If I’m open to it. With that, I vow to open myself up to her. This will either be the best decision I ever made, or my biggest regret.

  If I’m going to bet my heart, I might as well go all in.

  Chapter 10

  Camille

  Talk about a tearjerker. Serena and Chris’s wedding vows made me laugh, and cry. For someone who doesn’t cry often, I made up for it today. Thankfully, my clutch was large enough to hold my makeup for touch ups, and I lucked out finding one of the many powder rooms of Hawk House.

  Who names their home? A wealthy billionaire, that’s who. Suddenly, I feel like Dorothy and I’m not in Kansas anymore. I’m at the wedding of the year, with people I don’t know. Except for Nick, who is doing his best man duties, which leaves me alone and feeling slightly awkward. Though awkward is my forte, that doesn’t mean I like how it feels.

  Once satisfied with my reflection, I exit the powder room. At least I look the part of an elite wedding guest. That’s something.

  “Hey! I was looking for you.” Nick smiles at me, his rich baritone soothing my frayed nerves as he meets me in the hall, then tugs me into a study, shutting the door behind us and buffering the noise.

  I rub my neck. “Thank you…this is just what I needed. A private room, muting the raucous partying happening in the reception hall. How is it so quiet in here? Is this some sort of sensory room with noise control?” I’d believe anything right about now because this mansion seems to have it all.

  This is nothing like my own wedding. In truth, I’d have preferred something more intimate. Instead, I settled for a tacky Vegas chapel in a ceremony that was fast and anything but intimate or romantic. That’s all I’ll get. The one time in my life that I was reckless ended in a crushing failure. And I won’t have a shot at another wedding—be it intimate or huge. Yet another reason I feel so out of place.

  “How are you holding up?” Nick leans against the back of a leather sofa, tugging me close to him, placing his hand on my waist.

  His touch through the silky satin-blend fabric of my dress feels seductive, and several shades of naughty. I want more, so I lean in closer. Until his hand moves upward, fingers splayed on my bare back.

  Serena insisted this dress wasn’t too sexy. She insisted the merlot plum color wasn’t too bold for a wedding, insisted the maxi, high slit, and cowl neck wasn’t over the top. I went with it because when I looked at my reflection in the mirror, I felt sensual. I felt confident. And I wanted Nick to place his hands on me, just like he is now, his fingertips trailing from the lustrous body-hugging fabric to my bare flesh. Up my spine, causing my skin to prickle under his touch as he explores every inch of me.

  At least every inch that is accessible to him. With each sensual caress, I’m reminded of his promise. Of what will come. That sends a shock wave through my system, like an electrical current beneath his every touch.

  His thumb strokes my back and I shudder in immediate response. There will be a lot of this tonight. This feels too good and I want it too much not to make the most of it. Nick releases a deep-throated chuckle and I realize he’s asked me a question. “For the life of me, I can’t remember what you asked.”

  “Neither can I. Not when you feel this delectable.” His fingertips trace a path up my spine and ignite my every nerve ending.

  I shudder under his dexterous touch as his lips seize mine. His kiss, this kiss, is slow, erotic, and meant to turn me on. His tongue explores mine as his hands clasp my neck, his thumbs caress my collarbone. He nibbles, he licks, he moans. Like this is new to him. Like I’m the only one he’s ever kissed like this. Perhaps I’m making too much of this seduction. I shift, adjusting my weight until I grind against his erection. It’s pronounced and must be painful.

  This is a torture for us both, it appears, since my entire body is humming for him, from his hands exploring every inch of me until they reach the fabric hugging my derriere. This isn’t the sort of dress you wear underwear with. I tried everything…a thong, a g-string. It all showed under the fabric, so in the end I decided to throw caution to the wind and wear none. Reminding myself to keep my legs closed. The last thing I want is to flash the wedding guests or photobomb the wedding pictures `a la Lindsay Lohan or Paris Hilton.

  Nick notices that I’m not wearing anything underneath my dress and clamps my ass cheeks with his palms. Tearing his mouth from mine, he’s breathless, murmuring a throaty “You’re teasing me.”

  I thought I was dressing for myself tonight. Because I wanted to feel sexy, and confident, and in control. The fact that it’s making him harder for me is icing on the cake. It’s also making me realize that this is the reaction I needed from him.

  “Think of it as a promise of what’s to come.” I said it. What I want. The only thing I want tonight…a night with Nick.

  Swallowing hard, Nick checks his watch. It’s designer and must have cost more than my first car. I noticed it during karaoke when he rolled up his sleeves. A Rolex Sky-Dweller. Of course, I googled it. It’s expensive, but there are more expensive ones. The fact that he can afford a more expensive watch but prefers this one shows control. He’s more than his wealth and star status. He’s grounded. He’s—

  Marching to the door. Not the reaction I was hoping for. My heart sinks as I wonder if I misread the attraction we share. I try not to think the worst, but my mind automatically goes there. Because it’s happened before…rejection, soul-crushing and confidence-killing rejection. I steel my shoulders, watching him walk away.

  I’ll survive this. I’ve survived worse. The words are my armor. They’ve always protected me, hardened me. Just as I start to plot how to extract my things from the house and leave, Nick turns the lock. His eyes meet mine with a smoldering intensity. Those usually bright baby blues, cloaked in the dim lighting of the study, are as tempestuous as an ocean squall when he lifts me and places me atop the desk. This isn’t a desk anyone uses. It has nothing on it, nothing to shove aside, it’s just a placeholder made of sleek, sturdy wood to match the molding in a masculine study.

  With a gentle shove, Nick spreads my legs open, nestling his knees between them.

  He is a drug to me. I’m high on anticipation, blissfully immune to self-consciousness and doubt. Instead, I moan as he guides me backward onto the desk, then lifts my knees, wrapping my legs around his waist. Exploring my ankles, where my strappy heels knot around, with his fingertips.

  “These are sexy.” His baritone is rich and decadent. Sinful. As are his words. “You’ll need to leave these on later.”

  Later? I want him now. I’m pulsating for him, about to beg him to fuck me when slowly, so very slowly, he proceeds to my calves. Exploring them and kneading them with his palms and fingertips until he reaches my thighs beneath the fabric of the gown. He squeezes, his hands claiming my inner thighs. It’s a possessive gesture. It tells me I’m his. For this moment, if no other, I belong only to him.

  Waves of warmth ebb and flow with his every squeeze and caress. I’m grateful for the lining of the gown, knowing I’m wet for him as his fingers knead my thighs, then inch closer to my core. The last thing I want is to stain the fabric.

  I gasp when his hand claims my sex. It’s moist, and he rubs my clit in circles with his thumb. Inhaling a sharp breath, I moan as he awakens a part of me that has long been dormant. God, I want him. Now. I brought protection. It’s in my clutch. I just can’t remember where I put it.

  Nick lowers his head, licking, biting, nipping at my inner thigh. Raising the fabric at my slit higher, trailing his warm tongue to where his finger still strokes me. Flames li
ck at my clit, but Nick doesn’t claim me. Even though I wait for him to devour me. That most intimate piece of me that only one man has ever known. Until Nick. Now, he’s the only man I want. Though he won’t claim me.

  His breath fans my sex, instantly awakening my body, my every muscle, as he probes and prods with his tongue. I thrust my hips, straining for more of him. He fails to disappoint, plunging deep within me, teasing me. I shudder beneath his scratchy beard.

  “Let go, baby.” He plunges deeper still, his fingertips kneading me, his tongue lapping at my core.

  The current between us grows stronger, and stronger still. Until someone turns the doorknob. In that instant, I’m jolted to the here and now. As I strain to cover myself, Nick licks me. “Forget them. It’s locked. It’s just you and me, baby. Give me this.”

  He speaks as if my orgasm is for him. Which it might be. He chose this, for me. Nick’s pleasuring me and not himself. It’s enough to make me forget that doorknob, that locked door. It’s more than enough.

  “Nick…” His name, one breathless word. It’s all I can manage as I spread my legs wider, welcoming him, arching for him until Nick thrusts his tongue deep within me once more.

  He squeezes me with each nip and lick, moaning as he savors my essence. The closer I get to climax, the more Nick moans. I do, too. I can’t help it. Not when he takes me higher, and higher still, until I reach an earth-shattering climax. It leaves me spent and yearning for more of him. He pulls out his handkerchief and dabs my sex, and I realize that this man is nothing like I expected. He’s so much more, and I want all of him. With an insatiable thirst the likes of which I’ve never known. My body betrays me, my breath hitching in my throat as he dabs more until his palm rests against my sex.

  I meet his gaze. He stares at me, with a hunger that can’t be denied. He is gentle, yet possessive at the same time. Even as he cups my face in his hands and traces my lips with his thumbs, my scent lingering on his fingertips. He then claims my lips with his teeth and tongue, nipping, licking, and sucking until I’m certain they are swollen from his kisses.

  “A promise of what’s to come.” He whispers it in my ear, my scent on his breath. “Tonight. You and me.”

  “One night.” I should question why I make this ultimatum, but I know better. There’s no future with me and I must make that clear to Nick. Before we go any further, before we get any deeper.

  He smiles. It’s one of those I-don’t-believe-you smiles. I don’t believe it either, though I repeat my offer. “One night. No strings.”

  “Oh, there will be strings.” He loops his forefinger through the strap at my shoulder. “Lots of strings.”

  Just when I try to decipher if there is a hidden meaning beneath his words, he kisses me again. This time, his lips are gentle, his kiss heartfelt. As if to prove he does indeed intend for there to be strings.

  Of course, I can back out. I can choose not to go any further. But I can’t—no, I won’t. Because I want him. Nick. The guy I never thought I’d be into, yet here I am, still throbbing for him.

  “There’s no future for us.” My eyes search his, pleading with him not to get his hopes up.

  He smooths the fabric at my thighs. Covering me, coveting me. The same intimate parts that he explored with his fingers and tongue just moments prior. Protecting my honor. Proving he is like no man I’ve ever known.

  “You’ll never know unless you take a leap of faith.” His eyes hold mine with a stubborn determination to prove me wrong. “You don’t strike me as a coward.”

  I’m no coward. “I’m a realist.”

  “How about I take the leap for us both?” He kisses the nape of my neck. It’s such an intimate yet achingly sweet kiss that my resistance begins to crumble.

  Years of acceptance, of low expectations, and all it takes is a wedding date with the best man I’ve ever met to force me to reconsider everything. “One night. Do we have a deal?” My sex still aches for him, but I can’t relent.

  He doesn’t make me. Instead he nibbles my earlobe, then adds in a sensual whisper, “You’ve got a deal. Because I’m willing to wager everything I have that you’ll change your mind. Do you want to accept that bet?”

  God help me, I do, even though I suspect that it’s one bet I will lose. Then he kisses the side of my neck. Another sign of intimacy. An intimacy that endears him even more to me. This guy is more than sex and he is tempting me, teasing me to distraction.

  Will I accept that bet?

  “Absolutely.” Because the only thing worse than losing that bet would be giving up this intimacy with Nick.

  My pulse pounds against my temples, reinforcing that this is no average bet. I’m gambling with more than my heart. Nick’s heart is on the line as well. But he’s making it impossible for me to resist him. He’s different. I’ve already admitted that, so perhaps things could be different with him, if I allow it.

  My nagging conscience reminds me that I’m the same. That my future is already decided. But for tonight at least, I choose to ignore that. Because Nick pleasures me in ways I’ve never experienced. And because I will tease and tempt and make him feel every bit of pleasure I just did and then some.

  “Wager accepted.” I ease off the desk, writhing against his erection. This time it’s my turn to claim his lips, to trace them with my tongue, to suck his lower lip and nip it with my teeth.

  His deep-throated groan is the response I needed.

  Challenge accepted. It’s game on.

  Chapter 11

  Nick

  I’ll never look at a desk the same way again. What was once a functional piece of furniture is now the prop for my most wicked, naughty sex dream ever, in view of the fact that no actual sex took place. Not that I didn’t want to fuck Camille. No, I did. It took every ounce of self-restraint for me not to. Having sex in a study—or was it an office?—at my best friend’s wedding reception would be tacky. Even if I was in physical pain from wanting said sex. Especially when Camille looked so beautiful, so hot, so erotic.

  That woman is a fucking goddess.

  Thank God I’m sitting at a table, because the mere memory of Camille, lying on that desk with her legs spread wide, still makes me hard. I swear I can still taste her, making me harder still. To say I can’t wait for us to finish what we started would be the biggest understatement in the history of man.

  I scan the reception hall looking for Cami and find her debating something with Thor. He’s placed his head in his hands and is shaking it back and forth. Not good. I grab my cell and text Camille, asking what’s going on.

  She reaches into her small clutch that’s the same color as her dress, reads her cell screen, and smiles. After a bit of typing, my phone vibrates. I explained to Thor that Loki is more my type. I mean Tom Hiddleston. HELLO! We are now debating how the Black Widow will always be more badass than Thor because she never had powers, isn’t the god of thunder, yet she still kicked serious ass since the first Iron Man 2. Thor, your Thor, doesn’t agree with me.

  I laugh out loud. Only my date would be debating the Avengers with Theo Ture, the most devoted Marvel fan I know. From the look on Thor’s face, he’s speechless. My cell vibrates again. I just won our debate. I may have bruised Thor’s ego. Sorry about that, but the Black Widow rules.

  My eyes find Camille. She winks at me as the wedding planner, who I’ve been referring to as “the perky blonde with an iron fist,” crosses the room and taps her watch. Right. It’s time for Becca’s toast, then mine, followed by dancing, cake, and Camille. There’s way too much ahead of us and I’m already impatient.

  Becca Aimes, Serena’s best friend, rises, and the crowd grows silent. Her bronze gown matches her hair. She shines bright, especially her eyes. I think she may cry.

  “Serena, you and I have experienced our share of heartbreak and happiness. No one deserves unbridled bliss more than you. To say t
hat I’m thrilled to welcome Chris into our chaotic group of family and friends is an understatement. I love you, S. And I love you, Chris. For treasuring my best friend and for loving her the way you do. No one deserves it more than Serena.” Becca wipes a tear from her cheek and raises her champagne glass. “Join me in toasting Serena, Chris, and their budding family.”

  We all raise our champagne flutes and glasses of hard liquor and toast the happy couple. Serena hugs her friend, followed by Chris. Next it’s my turn. Fortunately, Becca’s speech and Cami’s texts recounting her Avengers debate have allowed my erection to pass, and when I stand with my champagne glass in hand, I have no worries. Except when it comes to remembering what to say.

  Though I had a speech prepared, tonight’s events have made me change course, and I’ve decided to improvise. Dangerous, but I’m going with my intuition. It’s never let me down. I tap the glass with a spoon and the crowd comes to a hush.

  “You’re all well aware of how far Chris and I go back. He’s family, though not by blood. He’s my best friend, and he’s the one I can always count on when things get rough. I never expected him to settle down, but, then again, I hadn’t met Serena formerly-Ellis-now-Chase. When she collided with Chris, it changed the course of his life…and mine. Because I’ve always wanted the best for Chris, and Serena is the best woman for him. They were each strong apart, each living fulfilling lives, yet together…together they are invincible.”

  Chris glances at his bride, placing his hand on her cheek. I swear he’s about to cry and I’m not halfway done with my speech yet. “To see Chris and Serena together is exceptional, really. Having a front row seat to the real deal, a love that you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, will last. It gives a lot of us hope. Hell, it gives me hope. And a sense of pride. Because I’m able to watch as Chris and Serena start their family and make new memories together. I consider myself fortunate to be a part of it. Chris has gained a wife and a lifelong love. I’ve gained another friend and someone who will always have my brother’s back. What more can I ask for? What more can any of us hope for? Please raise your glasses to Chris, Serena, and a love like no other.”