Frostbite

by Moira McTark

  By the time Bethany finished her shower and made her way into the kitchen, he was ready with the fruit cut and sugared, and the cream whipped. Pouring a few ounces of batter with one hand as he rotated the skillet with the other, he coated the bottom of the pan. Perfect. This one would be a keeper. Gingerly testing the edges with a spatula, he glanced over at the doorway where Bethany stood.

  She was wearing his button-down oxford, with only one button secured just above her navel, and his boxers rolled at her hips. Her hair looked towel dried and hung in damp curls around her shoulders, leaving wet patches of fabric clinging to her skin. With one knee bent and a hand on her hip, she couldn’t have been more provocative.

  Lifting up the little black comb he’d brought with him, she smiled tentatively. “I think I’m going to need your services again.”

  Ryan swallowed hard. She was incredibly sexy, so much more now that she let down her guard. That stiff posture left behind, the shuttered stare cast aside, she was accessible, feminine, and completely desirable.

  Her brow furrowed, and she jutted her chin at him. “What’s in the skillet?”

  “Crap, shit—”

  “If that’s the case, I’ll pass.”

  He ran the spatula under the rim of the over dark crepe, prying it loose and tearing it in the process. “No, no. It’s a crepe. One that I intended to impress you with but now looks like it’s going into the garbage.”

  “Crepes? I’m impressed even if it is burned. I feel romanced all over.”

  “You should. I’ve pulled out all the stops. Ordering the secluded mountain special, tipping the driver to abandon us, leaving you with nothing to cover that gorgeous body of yours but what I deem fit to loan you. Revel in my romancing, baby.”

  Bethany laughed. “Sure. All this just to be alone with me.”

  “If only I’d had the foresight, I’d have gotten us secluded months ago. As it is, I owe a debt of gratitude to circumstance.” He poured a fresh dollop of batter into the skillet, repeating his technique. “Stay over there so I can concentrate on breakfast a second. You half-dressed like that has the blood plummeting out of my brain.”

  “Then by all means, I’ll stay over here. I’m starving.”

  His Beth. Always with the practical approach to getting it done.

  A handful of successful crepes later, Ryan set a plate down on the counter next to him with a fork and knife. Three paper-thin pancakes dusted with powdered sugar were wrapped around a gooey, warm concoction of sweet fruit and syrup with a hint of mint mixed in. And of course, freshly whipped cream on the side. Not his worst culinary endeavor.

  Bethany walked over to the counter and fumbled around for a moment before looking back at him, completely lost. “You seem...very at home here. How do you find what you need?”

  Slicing oranges into halves, he shook his head and squeezed each over a wide bowl. “Chef’s intuition, I suppose. I just think about where I’d like it to be and it’s usually there. This is a phenomenal kitchen. Check out the Viking range.”

  Bethany smirked. “Ah, the world renowned intuition of Mr. Ryan Chase. It’s boggled my mind for months now.”

  Ryan sensed an edge, not entirely playful, creeping into her voice. He looked up at her as she stood beside him. This wasn’t exactly the Beth of work, the one who patiently bore his existence but showed little more than disdain when business closed. She wasn’t the Beth of two nights ago either, enchanted by the serenity of their secluded environment, swept away by the moment. This woman balanced in the middle, and he wasn’t sure where she would fall.

  He wiped his hands on the dishtowel over his shoulder then placed them on her hips. “Yeah, intuition. Instinct. Gut. I know you’ve got it, too, you just don’t like to use it. Numbers and formulas are more your thing.”

  The side of her mouth curved up, and he couldn’t resist running his thumb over it.

  Her eyelids dropped to a softened stare. “I just prefer methods that I can rely on.”

  “I can rely on my gut. I’d trust it over formulas and equations any day. Data is only as good as the person that entered it, and even if it’s right, people change their minds. Sense hasn’t steered me wrong, yet.”

  “Yet,” she said, snapping at this thumb, still dangerously close to her mouth. Her eyebrow raised silently, screaming dare.

  “That sounds like the voice of doubt, Ms. Phillip. Do you challenge me?”

  Her laugh bubbled out, resonating through the room. There was more freedom in it than he’d ever heard from her.

  “Well, I am feeling pretty confident after the ass-kicking I delivered in Scrabble last night. What kind of challenge do you have in mind?”

  “Mmm, I’ll have to let my instincts guide me here.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, please.”

  “My gut is telling me that I can answer twenty multiple-choice questions about your personal life—which we both know you don’t share with me.”

  “Twenty questions I pick? Someone’s pretty cocky.”

  “Someone didn’t seem to mind last night.” He loved to get a rise out of her.

  “So, what are we talking here? Dollars?” she asked with the smug look of a mark in the midst of a hustle. Perfect.

  “Pfft, dollars. Come on now, Beth. We make enough dough that money just doesn’t make sense. What means something to you? I know. Control. That’s what you and I have been battling over since the day we met. Seems to me this would be the perfect opportunity to get some satisfaction on that count. Or are you scared?” He knew how to taunt.

  “Control? Like slave for a day type thing?”

  “Slave for a day...and of course, for the night as well. Let’s say, until seven tomorrow morning. Anything goes.” He wasn’t surprised to see Beth all but licking her lips. She’d been hungering for the edge on him since day one, and this was finally her chance to get it.

  Poor girl was probably fantasizing about making him wear a skirt all day or some other wholesome nonsense. It would almost be worth it to throw the challenge just to see what she’d do. But that wasn’t going to happen. He didn’t give up, and today Beth was getting a lesson in gut.

  “You are so going to be wearing my underwear around this house all day! That and a few...other things I can think of. Bring it on.” Her eyes danced, and she rocked back on her heels. She was easy, almost too easy.

  “I’m serious. Slave for a day. Anything I say. You back out, you have to say ‘I’m a welcher’.”

  “Fine, fine. So long as you know what you’ll be saying.”

  “This is serious. We’re going to shake on it. I know how you are about the worth of your handshake.”

  She stuck out her hand and shook, firm and solid. Ryan knew she was going to be pissed when she lost, so he thought he’d make the most of this amicable moment. Rather than release her hand, he pulled it up to his mouth and kissed each knuckle.

  Bethany squirmed then narrowed her eyes at him. The game face. “Enough of dilly dallying. You ready to lose?”

  “Okay, let’s have it. Don’t go easy on me, now. I like a challenge.”

  She leaned back against the counter and rubbed her hands together. Ryan tensed a bit, wondering if he’d misjudged. He’d never met a hustler who could hustle him, but Beth had surprised him, showing a side of herself last night he hadn’t known existed. Would he learn another lesson this morning?

  “Okay, okay, okay... Do I sleep in men’s pajamas, nightgown, or nude?”

  Ryan looked over at her while he squeezed the remaining juice out of the orange cupped in his palm. Nude? It was rather cute the way she phrased it. Delicate thing. “Nightgown. And no trick questions with answers like, ‘one time, ten years ago,’ or, ‘when I have a date,’ either.” She’d thrown him a bone, an attempt to lull him into a false sense of security, no doubt, with a question she’d told him the answer to already. A test to see if he paid attention? Typical. He had a few tests for her in mind for later.

  “Settle
down, I’m not trying to trick you. Okay, two. Favorite before bed drink. Milk, Brandy, or tea…?”

  Like taking candy from a baby.

  —

  “You picked the questions, how could I cheat?” Ryan asked, knowing he’d just pulled off the coup of year.

  “I don’t know! Do I have a tell? Is it some kind of gambler’s trick?” Bethany’s tone was accusatory, but her face was rigid, betraying little. She would be the last person to offer a tick or telling gesture that gave away her game. She loved the control too much. All the more satisfying to demand she hand it over to him. In all truth though, she had handed over the game. She had the most irritating habit of talking to herself when it was just the two of them, as if she thought she were alone. And he was always listening. It was his nature.

  He liked to know what made the world go ’round. He liked to know what made Beth go ’round. It sure hadn’t been any other men while he’d been teamed up with her. As best as he could tell, she got hit on at least once every business trip, and over six months, she’d had one date that ended with a handshake. No, he knew her well enough to make educated guesses, and most of the time, he’d been lucky.

  But he also knew that Beth was the most guarded person he’d ever encountered. So while the idea of testing him on her personal life seemed like a challenge he wouldn’t be able to win, he knew without a shadow of a doubt Bethany Phillips wasn’t about to reveal anything truly personal about herself during the course of a game. The resulting challenge was superficial, and easy enough to gauge for a win.

  Beth shook her head, took a deep breath, and straightened her shoulders. “Okay, you won. You’re good, I’ll grant you that. And I’m no welcher, so what would you like me to do?”

  Ryan wiped his hands on the dishcloth, slung it over his shoulder, and rubbed his chin as if he didn’t know exactly what he would make her do. “Beth, though you look smashing in it, I’ve seen just about enough of you in drag. Why don’t you take off my clothes?”

  There wasn’t much to take off, so she quickly complied, dropping her shorts, and wiggling out of the shirt.

  Ryan rinsed the orange off his hands at the faucet and walked back to her.

  Her eyes widened at his approach, her lips parted, and she rose up on tiptoes to meet his mouth.

  His hands circled her waist and moved up her ribs as he took hold.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, laughing when he lifted her up and set her on the counter next to him.

  “I can’t take my eyes off of you, but I’m going to collapse if I don’t eat something. This way I get everything I want.” He withdrew a wedge of soft peach from one of the crepes and held it up, offering a bite she delicately accepted.

  “Mmm, very good.”

  She licked a drop of juice from the corner of her mouth, and the sight of her pink tongue skimming over that blurred line where skin met lip sent blood thundering into his cock. His need for food became secondary to his need for her.

  “Move to the edge of the counter and spread your legs wide for me.” The first test.

  “I thought you were starving?” she asked, an unusual playfulness in her voice.

  “I am, but I’m not sure what I want to sink my teeth into first.”

  He looked down at her pussy then dipped his finger into the bowl of whipped cream beside him. Taking one finger to scoop up a small glob, he sank to his knees. “The best of both worlds, I think,” he said, wiping the sweet cream over her bared sex. He followed by lapping at it until her whimper sounded from above.

  The flavors of her tang and the cream mingled on his tongue. She was delicious. He reached over to the bowl and swept up two heaping fingers full, painted it over her spread lips and opening, and took to devouring her.

  He licked and sucked, probed and laved, savored her taste and response to his touch. Her fingers wove through his hair, and she tightened her grip. He could feel her pulse against his mouth. She was close.

  The cream consumed, Ryan pulled back with one, long lick up her center. Between her plumped lips, she shone pink and soft.

  Taking another soft slice of peach in hand, Ryan lowered the ripe fruit between her spread legs. He teased the soft tip in narrow circles around her clit, edged down along the slick valley and back up to circle the erect bundle of nerves again, and then he brought the juicy peach up to her mouth. “Taste,” he whispered.

  Beth’s teeth dug into her bottom lip. Her chest rose and fell with controlled effort, her wide eyes focused on his face.

  Parting her lips, she drew half of the fruit into her mouth with a groan. Ryan returned the remaining half to her exposed folds and painted the succulent meat over her clit in hard strokes until she writhed against the pressure. With a satisfied grin, he popped the half wedge into his mouth.

  He stood and licked the juices at the corner of her mouth and along the seam of her lips, pressing in to pillage the wet recesses, share in the flavors. Their tongues slid over one another, tasting the mix of sugary sweet with the tangy essence of arousal.

  Breaking away from the sensual kiss, he whispered against her mouth, “Lay back, Beth.”

  The spacious island counter was more than large enough to accommodate her body, and when reclined, she looked small atop the wide expanse of black granite.

  “It’s cool,” she gasped as goose bumps broke out across her creamy skin. “Feels good.”

  “I’m going to make you feel even better.”

  Her hair fanned out around her in damp, heavy curls, and she closed her eyes as he gently lifted her legs to rest over his shoulders.

  He kissed and licked a wet path around the hollow at her navel, sucking at the taut skin, then worked his way down to the valley between her legs, homing in on her clit. Pushing his hands under her ass, he raised her sex up to his meet his mouth.

  She arched her back against the polished counter and let out a small mew, her smoldering arousal stoking his own. He watched her writhe as he sank his tongue inside her, dragged his teeth along her skin, and lapped at the juices flowing from her core. He sucked and nibbled and tasted the delicacy of her until her gasping cries echoed throughout the room and her heels dug into the muscles of his back. She was so close.

  Ravenous for the sounds of her pleasure, he delved into her pussy, fucking her with his tongue. Each thrust brought on another spasm. She ground against his face, panting and moaning, louder and harder with every stroke of his tongue, until she screamed, bucked, and he thought her pulsing orgasm against his face would make him come.

  Gently, he eased her legs off his shoulders and, taking her hand, pulled her upright and into his arms. “You are incredible,” he whispered into her hair when she laid her head against his chest.

  “Me? No way. That title is reserved for you.” She laughed, still trying to catch her breath.

  Ryan hiked her up in his arms and walked down the hall to his bedroom. “Don’t get any ideas, Beth. We’re not done yet.”

  She looked up into his face, eyes wide and obviously pleased.

  Chapter Six

  They’d been lying together for an hour, Ryan tracing circles with his fingertips around her belly and breasts. He’d effectively turned her into a puddle version of her formerly tough self. Beth wanted to snuggle into his touch until not a millimeter of space separated any part of them, wanted to revel in the closeness she’d been starving for.

  Curling closer, she inhaled, savoring his masculine scent. “Mmm, this slave business isn’t so bad at all.”

  Ryan chuckled into the top of her hair. “That’s because I’ve gone easy on you.”

  Her brows arched as she peered up at him. “Oh, yeah? So do you plan to go...hard on me?”

  “Not the way you think.”

  She was thinking about some kinky lesson, but from the tone of his voice, it sounded like Ryan had something less deviant in mind. She pulled back a little. “What do you mean?”

  “I want to know more. Every time you start talking about yourself, you
stop short, cut yourself off, and change the subject. I know a lot about you superficially, but I wish you’d let me know what’s below the surface.”

  Tension crept through her, solidifying the gelatinous mush in her heart. She didn’t want to talk about herself. Wasn’t it enough to embrace the comfort of being together?

  “What do you want to know?” Her voice sounded stiff, even to her own ear, and she could see the change register on Ryan’s face as well. It made her feel a sort of sadness she hadn’t anticipated.

  Holding a finger up to stop him before he spoke, she tried again. “I mean...” She paused and closed her eyes a second, willing the steely shell around her heart away. When her lids lifted, she felt an openness that had never been there before. “What do you want to know?”

  The side of his mouth pulled back into a half-grin, and he brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “Everything. But I’ll start slow, ease you into the deeper stuff. What did you do for Christmas this year?”

  The question wasn’t as innocuous as it should have been. She didn’t want to explain that she hadn’t seen her mother again this year. The spiritual fad addict had decided to spend the holiday in New Mexico, taking a seminar from an ex-con fraud on how to become a Navajo medicine woman.

  Unwilling to meet Ryan’s eyes, she fiddled with a loose thread in the sheet. “Mom had other plans. Holidays aren’t really a big deal for me.”

  Ryan nodded, slowly. “Okay, so you have any big plans coming up? What’s the rush to get back to Silicon Valley?”

  “I guess the big rush to get back was just that I didn’t want to be here.” She paused and stroked her hand across his chest. “Only, I don’t mind so much now.”

  Ryan’s gaze burned into her, and she knew he could tell she hadn’t given it to him straight.

  “Okay, I said we’d start easy. Maybe we’ll come back to that one. How about work? That’s comfortable territory for you. How’d you end up working for Jared?”

  She took a deep breath and slowly let it go. Now, this wasn’t so bad. “Well, I started working in the mailroom before college. It paid better than the other grunt jobs I’d been offered, and I needed the money. Besides, it was a strong company, and I wanted to get my foot in somewhere I’d have a future.”