Ice Hard

by Tracy Goodwin

  “Camille, I hate to break it to you, but we’re a bit late for the talk.” He lays beside me, and I roll into his arms, resting my head on his chest. It’s instinctive and not in the least bit awkward. It’s…us. We’re an us, whether I expected it or not. I took the risk. Now it’s time to make some admissions.

  “Do you want the good news first or bad?” My fingertips trace his smooth chest then trail down to his six-pack. Or is it a twelve-pack? Nick defies all logic, all convention.

  “I’ll take the good first.” His drawl is lazy, sated, and I’m tempted to delay our talk, but I know better. I can’t delay the inevitable. Not with all his references to a future.

  My hand stills. “Truth number one is that you put Pete Harper to shame.” I did just bring up my ex-husband while lying naked in Nick’s embrace.

  “That guy is an asshole. Christ, Pete Harper’s your ex?” The disdain dripping from Nick’s normally smooth baritone makes me cringe. So does the fact that his body has stiffened, that he is already pulling away. “Pete Harper is the reason you didn’t want to date me—you still don’t want to date me?”

  “My reason isn’t Pete. I mean, it was when we first met, but not anymore.” I rise to a sitting position, turning to him, resting my head against the shabby chic headboard and tugging the sheets up to my chin. “Pete and I dated at Syracuse, he proposed, and I said yes, then we eloped.”

  “And he cheated. No wonder you don’t date hockey players. He makes me ashamed to be one.” Nick idly caresses my cheek with his thumb. “Your ex is seriously a scumbag. You know that, right?”

  “It wasn’t me, it was him? Is that the route you’re taking?” I remain still, enjoying this prolonged moment.

  Nick nods. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  By clutching the sheets tight, I protect myself, because this next truth, my last truth, is the most difficult, and I need to admit to all of it before I lose my nerve. “I also miscarried. The pregnancy wasn’t planned. It was the result of a broken condom. The miscarriage occurred before he cheated.”

  “I’m sorry.” Nick’s voice is rough as sandpaper and brimming with concern.

  His reaction, the gentleness behind his tough façade, leaves me reeling. Kindness can sometimes be more jarring than judgment. I’m so shaken by the way Nick holds me and covets me through these admissions that my limbs quiver. “By the time Pete cheated, we hadn’t been intimate for a long time, since before my miscarriage. I didn’t have time to be angry, or disappointed. I simply signed the divorce papers. The surgery happened soon after we broke up. For fibroids. They left scar tissue on my uterus and, because of that scarring, I can’t have children, Nick. That’s why, no matter how much I want to be what you’re looking for, there’s no future with me.”

  His expression is one of pity, mingled with surprise. Mostly, though, he’s pitying me. That’s the one thing I won’t allow. Instead, I put on my brave face, offering him a grin. “I’ve accepted it. After the loss, the grief, I slowly learned to accept it. I’m tough. I got through it, and spending time with my nieces and nephews helps.”

  Nick’s eyes hold mine. He’s at a loss for words, and I’m wondering why I ever thought this was a good idea. I should have held to my original plan. One-and-done. Nothing serious. That’s better than being pathetic. “I have an idea. Let’s just forget we ever had this conversation—”

  “Nope.” Nick brushes his lips against mine in a featherlight kiss. It grounds me, it keeps my anxieties at bay. He then lifts my left hand, studying my ring. “Your mom gave you this stone to heal you…to help you through your loss.”

  I lace my fingers through his. “Again, you astound me.” He does. Somehow, Nick knows me. “This was the last thing my mom gave me before she died.”

  “Why that finger?” Nick asks.

  Grasping him tighter, I admit the truth. “It fit. I never wanted to get it sized. Besides, I was married and it failed. I didn’t see it ever happening again.”

  How much do I confide? I watch Nick, studying his features. His strong eyes locked with mine, his baby blues are reassuring. “After I was told, I watched the news and there was a report about a woman killing her child. I immediately thought ‘Why can she have children, while I can’t?’ It hit me hard. Since the dawn of time, it’s been part of women’s genetics—to have children. And I’m defective.”

  “You’re not defective, Camille. It’s a crushing medical diagnosis. It doesn’t make you inferior.” Nick kisses my hair. “You’re too hard on yourself. Wait…the reason you hate doctors. It stems from this. Am I right?”

  “Yes.” In spite of the sheet covering me, I feel naked. Emotionally raw. “Nick, what I’ve described is my future. It doesn’t have to be yours.” My eyes don’t waver from his. This is his way out.

  “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me. Here’s the thing: I know it all and I’m not going anywhere. Do you hear me? I’m not running in the opposite direction. True, I do question your judgment where Pete’s concerned…”

  He cocks his brows, his expression animated, until I laugh.

  “Pete’s such a dick.” Resting my head against the headboard, I smile. “Another reason for a one night only. When I’m reckless, I make mistakes like eloping with Pete.”

  “What we just did…that wasn’t reckless. It was intimate.” He kisses my neck. “It was hot as hell.” He kisses my forehead. “It was something I want much more of.” Nick nuzzles my nose with his. His touch is sweet, yet protective…always protective. Then he tilts his head, until he’s close enough to kiss me, but instead, his lips hover over mine. “Pete’s loss is definitely my gain.” Nick’s eyes widen. “You. Losing you. I didn’t mean the baby.”

  “I know what you meant. He never did mourn our loss. I did that alone.” I lace my fingers at the nape of his neck, concentrating on his short dark hair, which prickles my fingers. “You’re one of the good guys. Too good to saddle with my past, with my future.”

  His eyes hold mine, tumultuous, like a stormy ocean current. “If this thing between us goes where I want it to and we decide we want kids, we’ll adopt. There are plenty of children who need homes.”

  “Nick—”

  “Listen to me. It doesn’t matter. It’s not a deal breaker.” He traces my forehead, smoothing what I know is a line of worry. “It’s your decision—to explore what we have or not. Just know that this doesn’t make me want you any less. It’s up to you: Do you want to see us through past tonight?”

  “I’m interviewing out of state this week.”

  Hiding his displeasure by shrugging, his motions forced, Nick says, “We can work it out if we want to. The question is, do we both want to? It’s up to you, Camille. You didn’t disclose all of this to me for nothing.”

  No, I disclosed my truths because I want Nick, and more nights like tonight.

  For the first time in a very long time, I’m in control of my future. My desire for Nick, my belief that he’s the best guy I could ask for, is strong. So is the connection between us. I believe him, I want to believe him, because I do want to see us through.

  “Are you sure?” Once more, I give him a way out.

  Nodding, he insists. “I’ve never been so sure of anything.”

  “I want to see where we go.” God help me, I do. Just when I’d given up on expectations, or a happily-ever-after, Nick offers me an opportunity to start over with a man I trust, a man I want to take a chance with. Because he sings Neil Diamond songs with my name in them, even though singing is one of his largest vulnerabilities, because he accepts me for who I am. Just as I am. “I’m all in, Nicholas Alexander George.”

  Leaning into him, I claim his lips with mine. My stomach grumbles, totally ruining the romantic mood.

  Nick fails to skip a beat. “Stay here.”

  As he walks naked across to the kitchen, I study him, fr
om his tight ass to his broad shoulders and muscular arms. He removes a bottle of Dom from the fridge. Though the recessed lighting in the kitchen is dim, I recognize the label.

  “You came prepared,” I tease him.

  He pops the cork and brings one glass to me with a slice of cake. “No champagne flutes. Sorry. I’m not that prepared.”

  “It’s perfect.” I can’t keep myself from admiring his athletic body as he goes back for his own glass, tucking the bottle beneath his arm before carrying it over with his plate and settling beside me in the bed.

  Nick’s leg is draped over the bedding and he resembles a Greek god. “I think the wrong player got the Thor nickname.”

  He offers me his fork, and I take a bite of cake layered with some berry-looking compote and frosting. I savor the sweet dessert. “Oh my God, this is delicious. Your turn.”

  I feed Nick, though he isn’t as impressed, his mouth forming a frown. “I’ve tasted sweeter.”

  His eyes are brimming with hidden meaning. I taste sweeter. It’s in his intense stare and cocky grin. “Why Scorcher?” A guy like Nick shouldn’t have to resort to Scorcher.

  “I’m the Dominator on the ice. Tough, boisterous, and all about the drama.” He feeds me more cake. This man is perfection. The cake-feeding makes it so. “Women expect me to be that same person off the ice, and I’m not. That’s why we don’t get serious. Unlike you, most women don’t ask what documentary I watched in Detroit.”

  “And did you call said women to say good night?” I suspect the answer long before Nick places his fork on his plate.

  “Never.” Placing his hand under the bedding, he slides his palm up my thigh. “I’ve had a few firsts with you.”

  I take his plate, placing it and mine on the nightstand beside me. Lying on my back, I pull him over me, my hands buried in his thick hair. “Tell me more.”

  “You’re my first wedding date.” His palm moves upward, slowly yet possessively. “You’re my first….”

  He cups my sex. “Well, you’re the first woman I’ve given all of myself to. My only.”

  His touch feels like sin, and my pulse races, hard and fast, rushing to my sex. I’m pulsating beneath his palm, my hunger having evolved…for Nick. He’s the only sustenance I need. I show him that, by arching into him, and tugging him closer.

  We make love again, and this time my yearning for him is heightened. Nick’s in control, complete control, and he is enjoying every minute spent teasing me, kneading me with his hands, nipping me with his teeth, and exploring every inch of my body with his tongue. He covets me, and this knowledge, that this man wants to pleasure me fully and completely, makes his touch even more sensual, makes the passion rise within me until it’s painful.

  The thirst I feel for him is all-consuming. “Please,” I whisper. My desperate plea is met with another nibble, on my thigh. He’s so close to my sex that his beard gently scratches me, sending shock waves to my core.

  “You’re so smooth.” He licks me, expelling a deep breath. Fanning my core, my desire.

  “Please, Nick. I want you.” I clutch the bedding in my fist, “Please.”

  He slides inside me, hard for me, natural. The sensation of us, bare, raw, and oh-so intimate sends shudders through me to my core. He’s a first for me, too, because I’ve always used condoms, even with Pete. By the time we learned that one broke, sex wasn’t something we shared anymore. I suspected he was cheating, but had no proof. Instead of confronting him, I denied Pete sex.

  I can’t deny Nick anything. I want him, all of him, meeting his gentle thrusts with my own. Sucking on his lower lip, then biting. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to arouse him more. He gasps and moans, while I continue my subtle seduction. Until he thrusts harder and faster. Until we climax together, reaching a more intense euphoria than before.

  After, when we’re relaxed and exhausted, he lies holding me, tangled in the sheets with me. “This is one hell of a night.” I sigh, utterly content.

  Nick kisses my shoulder, causing my adrenaline to spike. I’m addicted to him. And that’s before he announces: “The night’s not over yet.”

  His lazy kisses travel over my shoulder, to my shoulder blades, then trail to my spine. I fidget, it feels so good and tickles at the same time. Nick knows how to coax me, to entice me, to play me…like my body is his to orchestrate.

  Yes, this is going to be a night to remember. It’s a promise of a future, a future I would cherish. A future I now want with all my heart.

  “Nick…” I say his name breathlessly. I’m about to admit to it all when a banging at the door makes me jump.

  “Ignore it.” Nick is all about more kisses, and so am I. But the person at the door won’t stop banging.

  “What if it’s an emergency?” I sit up, preparing for company. Swallowing hard against everything I was about to admit to Nick.

  After kissing me once more, Nick rises from the bed, stepping into his boxers. “It better be an emergency or I might beat the crap out of someone.”

  His sarcasm is pronounced as he tosses me his shirt from the floor. Always protective of me. That’s another first.

  “Nick, let me in, man. I’m naked and it’s freezing out here!”

  Naked? “Let me guess. Lucky?”

  “Nick! Come on, man!”

  “I’m gonna fucking kill him. Good cop, bad cop, okay?”

  I’m always up for a game of good cop, bad cop. “Which one am I?”

  Lucky wails on the door again, and I never do get my answer. I make sure the shirt and messy bedding covers all of me as Nick thrusts the door open.

  The Dominator answered the door…this ought to be fun.

  Chapter 13

  Camille

  A naked Lucky stumbles into the cabana.

  “Jesus, Nick, I’m freezing. Could you have taken any lon—” At the sight of me, the Luckster stops dead in his tracks. “Oh shit! You’re naked.”

  “Nope. I’m wearing a shirt and some heavy bedding. You’re the one whose lucky charms are dangling for all to see.” This is so not what I wanted to see tonight. “I may be scarred for life.”

  Nick chortles as Lucky tries to hide his treasure behind his hands. “Shit, Nick, you could have told me.”

  “You could have gone away when I didn’t answer my door,” Nick growls at him. I’m impressed by his version of bad cop.

  Since I must be the good cop, I ask, “What is it with you and your pranks, Luckster? I mean, do you ever keep your clothes on?”

  “The Vampire challenged me to a swim, then he took my clothes and left me on the freezing beach.” He doesn’t move, begging of Nick, “Dude, I need some clothes.”

  “No. I’m not supporting this prank addiction of yours.” Nick crosses his arms over his chest.

  “Lucky, what the hell, man?” Thor marches into the room carrying something in his hand.

  “The Leprechaun makes three, and Thor makes an R-rated Avengers movie. Guys, this is getting weird.” I tug the bedding tighter.

  Thor turns to me, and immediately covers his eyes with his free hand. “Whoa! Hi, Cami.”

  I wave to the air. “Hey, Thor. So, is this what you boys do on a cold winter’s night?”

  Thor thrusts a pair of sweatpants in Lucky’s direction. “Put these on.”

  Lucky shifts uncomfortably. “I can’t wear those. I’ll look like an idiot. I’m trying to pick up the same woman the Vamp is. She was digging me until he pulled this crap.”

  “Dude, you’re naked and covering your junk with your hands. Where are your priorities?” Nick is enjoying bad cop way too much. Lucky’s cheeks are turning a deep shade of crimson.

  Clearing my throat, I use a tone normally reserved for my nephews when they’re acting up. “Lucky, you are naked. By wearing those sweatpants Thor’s holding, you can get dressed an
d show this woman how tough you are. You can say you went jogging on the beach, in the middle of a Long Island winter, without your shirt and shoes. Compare that to returning to Hawk House butt naked. Which do you think is the best option?”

  Lucky grabs the sweatpants, and I turn away. I’m trying to avoid the Leprechaun’s pot of gold with everything I’ve got. His constant motion isn’t helping matters.

  “I choose to be the studly athlete.”

  “Hold on there, tiger. I didn’t mention anything about you being a stud.” On this I’m adamant. Things are getting way too weird now.

  Nick shoves Lucky toward the door. “Time to go. ’Night.”

  “What did I say?” Lucky is finally out of my line of sight. “Thor, Nick, what did I say?”

  Thor apologizes to me and Nick before saying, “Nice to see you, Cami. Not that I saw anything other than you—your face, I mean.”

  “We’re good, Thor. Black Widow still rules, though.” I can’t help but smile, as Thor grunts with a loud “Ugh” followed by the sound of the door closing.

  “Sorry about that. Great job, by the way.” Nick crawls into bed beside me. “Thanks for playing along. This naked prank thing is getting old and the Leprechaun is in need of some tough love.”

  I chuckle. “Thanks for letting me be the good cop to your bad.”

  “No, I was good, you were bad.” Nick nips my earlobe.

  As he slides his shirt from my shoulders, I say, “Really? I thought I was the good cop.”

  “Oh, you’re good, baby. Trust me.” He tickles me. I squirm, laughing. “You’re so good that I want you to show me again.”

  “I like the sound of that.” I laugh, reveling in this fun, free relationship and the fact that it’s evolving into something significant. I feel it. Though I confided my sordid life’s story, Nick accepted it, and me. In record time, we’re back to tickles and playful banter. For the first time in a long time, I believe in a bright future.