The Winter Games

by Sharp, Dr. Rebecca

  “Yeah.” I sighed. “So, what do I do?” I turned to Ally specifically for my next question. “I know you went through this with Emmett. How do I make Nick want me?”

  “Oh, Tam.” She shook her head. “First off, he wants you. He definitely, definitely wants you. That is never the problem. The problem is that he thinks that he can’t have you for whatever reason that may be—his situation, the fact that you work for him, the opinion that bad boys don’t deserve good girls. Oh God… is Nick Frost trying to be chivalrous?”

  We all looked at each other with wide eyes.

  “But that’s still complete BS anyway,” Jessa interjected. “Because he’s obviously treating you so differently than any other girl that I’ve known him to F and F. Maybe that’s why… maybe he’s realized that this could be more for him, too.”

  “What?” F and F? My brow scrunched.

  “Fuck and forget.” She reached down and grabbed a La Croix water from her bag. “Sorry. You can blame Chance for that one.”

  “Oh.” My eyes dropped to my donut. God, I hoped I wasn’t going to be that. I didn’t want to be that. For a ton of barely explicable reasons, I just wanted to be his.

  “So, him ‘not wanting you’ has basically nothing to do with you and everything to do with him. He’s not concerned about what your feelings are going to be—well, he is—but he’s really concerned about what his feelings are going to be.”

  “And men run from feelings faster than Ally runs from spiders.”

  “Hey!” she cried out, but then shrugged. “But it’s true.”

  “So, what do I do? Keep pushing until he breaks?”

  I didn’t know if that was going to go over really well.

  “You can,” Ally mused, tapping her finger on her chin. “Or you can entice him to break the rules.” She grinned and looked at Jessa and I knew I was in trouble.

  “You are not going to like us for this, Tam, but if you want Nick Frost to seduce you, we need to go shopping,” Jessa said.

  “I was afraid you were going to say that.” Even as I said it, a thrill shivered through me.

  “You’re worse than Channing,” Ally grumbled as she stood and reached for my arm, yanking me up. “Hope you don’t have any other plans for today, babe. We’re going to make sure that you are irresistible.”

  “To wish was to hope, and to hope was to expect”

  —Jane Austen, Sense & Sensibility

  “HELLO?” I ASKED WITH A knock as I opened the door to Nick’s guest house.

  After the first night, I told him to leave the door unlocked for me—this way he didn’t have to come all the way downstairs to let me in. He just laughed and told me that he could unlock the door from his phone.

  “Nick?” I yelled up the stairwell as I put a foot on the first step.

  “Can you bring me up a water?” the gravelly voice from beyond asked in annoyance.

  He was probably on his computer again. “Sure. I’ll be right up,” I returned, letting out a sigh that I hoped he couldn’t hear.

  We were both on edge. It had been three days since the other events that had happened and his attempts to not repeat them were wearing on us both. He was healing but still hurting. And I was still trying to work up my courage…

  Slipping off my shoes by the door, I hesitated for a moment before unzipping my jacket and hanging it in the closet. I was wearing one of my coerced purchases and to say I was nervous about what was going to happen when I made it to his room was an understatement.

  I’d ended up going shopping with the girls on Sunday since Chance had called and begged Jessa to come back home because they needed help with something for the school. It was fine; I needed the rest of the day to prepare myself. Four hours, three stores, two new outfits, and two sets of lingerie later, I was on my way home wondering how they’d convinced me to spend almost fifty dollars on underwear that was made to basically reveal everything and then be taken off. Hopefully.

  What did I know?

  Sunday night, I talked myself out of wearing any of my new purchases—of course—with the reason that Nick was probably sorer and more bruised than the day before; it wasn’t a good time to try and seduce someone. Obviously. Instead, I’d arrived to him tapping away on his computer, muttering something about shorting something or other and stop-losses. I bugged him for a minute to let me take a look at how everything was healing and asked him how he was feeling. Short, distracted answers gave me a hint; he was focused on whatever was going on with his investments. So, comforted with the knowledge that his body was on the mend back to its perfectly sculpted and distracting form, I tucked myself onto the leather armchair that sat in the far corner of the room and pulled my book from my bag; I was really slacking with my reread of Sense and Sensibility.

  The smack of his computer shutting pulled me from the scene of Marianne’s injury and back to Nick.

  “Still Jane Austen?” he asked, nodding at the novel.

  I nodded, letting my finger hold my place.

  “Can I get you anything? Water? I can make some hot tea,” I offered.

  He laughed. “A blunt?”

  My eyes narrowed. I wasn’t letting him smoke. Or drink for that matter. If he wanted to do that, it would be when I wasn’t here

  “I didn’t think so,” he chuckled with a sigh that said he didn’t really want it anyway.

  After a moment of silence, I returned to my page, assuming he’d speak up if he needed anything from me.

  “Read it to me.” His short demand startled me.

  My eyes flew up to his. “Excuse me?” I couldn’t have heard that right.

  “Whatever you’re reading, come over here and read it to me.” He hit the empty space next to him. “Otherwise, I’m going to kill myself trying to focus on my computer; my head is pounding.”

  So, I climbed back onto that bed and for the next two hours, I read Sense and Sensibility to him, trying to dampen the thrill that went through my body every time I caught him smiling or a small laugh escape him at Austen’s witty prose. If only Ally and Jessa could see what I’d turned the night into.

  Only I would be able to turn a seduction into story time.

  When I finally saw his eyes begin to drift shut, I stuck my bookmark in the pages and attempted to move softly off the mattress. A hand reached out and grabbed my wrist, yanking it up to his mouth. He kissed the junction of my palm and wrist. Open-mouthed. Tongue licking along the seam.

  It had been our only contact all night—and that was why it was all the more potent. I felt that kiss on my lips, on my breasts, deep down inside of my core, right onto my very soul. He knew it, too, smiling at his handiwork. Even though the man looked like he was turning into Barney with all the purple splotches everywhere, and even though he’d been half-asleep just a second ago, he smirked in success knowing that one touch was all it took to melt me.

  “Goodnight, Priss,” he murmured against the pulse of my wrist.

  I shivered—again—at that memory of Sunday night.

  Last night, I’d worn one of the new outfits… all the way to my front door before I second-guessed myself again and went and took it off. That was the second strike with Ally and Jess in our text conversation when they demanded incessantly what happened.

  Tonight though, tonight was either going to be strike three or third time’s the charm. At least I’d made it here wearing some of my new clothes this time. I’d put on the royal blue bralette and matching panties under a plain white cropped tee, and dark jeggings. The blue might have been slightly visible through the white of my shirt.

  God, who had talked me into this?

  Nick Frost was complete and utter chaos wrapped up in a cold, chiseled exterior. Glancing at myself in the mirror in the hall as I made my way into the kitchen, turning on the lights as I went, I wondered what it was that possessed me to want him?

  If sex were the mountain, Nick would be the double-black diamond—experienced, dangerous, exhilarating; I, on the other hand, would
be on the bunny slope—no, not even the bunny slope. I would be stuck on the stupid tug-rope that had to pull you to the top of the bunny slope. Awkward. Clumsy. Fumbling. Worse than a beginner. And tonight, I was taking that lack of skill up against his experience.

  Beginners shouldn’t be attempting a black diamond.

  And I shouldn’t be attempting to seduce Nick Frost.

  My feet padded softly across the hardwood and into the kitchen. Grabbing a cold water from the fridge, I spun and almost dropped it on the floor with a stifled screech.

  “Nick,” I gasped. My hand coming over my heart. “You scared me.”

  Murky white eyes narrowed on me. “What the hell are you wearing?” he demanded, flicking on the other set of lights over the island.

  All the better to see… through.

  “What do you need? I told you I would get you the water,” I said, ignoring his question.

  “It’s just bruised ribs, Priss. I’m not a complete invalid,” he growled and stepped closer. “I asked what the hell do you think you are wearing?

  Looked like this conversation was unavoidable.

  “I… umm… clothes.”

  “I can see your bright blue bra,” he said flatly, and my breasts tightened under his stare.

  I gulped so loudly it would have been comical had my whole body not looked as red as a firetruck and felt as hot as the fire.

  “I went shopping. With Ally and Jessa.” And that should have been explanation enough, but still, I tacked on, “They picked this outfit out for me.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m going to pick out a few choice words for them,” he bit out. “Have you worn this anywhere else? For anyone else?”

  “N-no.”

  “Good because when you get home tonight, you can take those clothes off and I will pay you to throw them right in the garbage.” He stood an angry inch from me before plucking the water from my hands. “Christ, I can see your fucking nipples all hard against the lace.”

  My breath caught. All possible responses stuck in my throat as—to prove his point—his free hand came up and pinched one aching peak between his thumb and finger. God, I hoped this meant it was working. I bit my lip, feeling a rush of warmth between my thighs. My eyes dropped to his hand; I wanted him to do it again. And when my eyes fell lower, it looked like he wanted the same thing; I could see the hard outline of his arousal through his shorts that hung low on his hips. And I would bet that there was nothing on underneath them.

  First night wearing the new bra and the matching royal blue thong and already I felt myself ruining them. They were meant to entice; they were not fabricated to handle being enticed.

  With an angry groan, his hand fell and he spun, his feet pounding a path to the stairs without another word.

  This was a stupid idea. Stupid, Tammy. Just go home.

  I crossed my arms over my chest and followed slowly in his path, unsure if I would be turning upstairs or out the door.

  Don’t leave, I felt my heart whisper. Fight for us.

  Straightening my shoulders, I huffed and followed Nick up to his lair knowing that tonight I’d find out just how deep into chaos I’d fallen.

  He set the water on his nightstand as I walked into the room. I turned to shut the door behind me and the next thing I knew he was in front of me, one hand on the closed door next to my head, his body butterfly-kissing mine. So close, yet so far.

  “What are you doing?” he whispered into my face. His expression was dark and pained; I knew it was my fault and not his wounds

  “What… do you mean?” Besides trying to stop my heart from beating itself to death? “I’m here to make sure you are ok…”

  “You know damn well that I’m perfectly fucking fine. Aside from the fact that my pretty face is a little worse for the wear,” he sneered and stared like he could see right through my plan and my feigned ignorance.

  “I just got it—”

  “Stop right there.” His head dropped right next to mine. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Priss,” he whispered harshly in my ear. “Did you wear this for me? Did you buy these for me?”

  My breath sputtered and stalled as it left my body. At least he’d made the question a simple yes or no.

  “Yes,” I admitted, staring into the dimly-lit room in front of me.

  “Why?” he rasped.

  My body quaked as his other hand anchored to my hip, pushing me back against the door as he shoved his hips against mine. He wanted me. I moaned, feeling the hard length of him pressing into my stomach. At least I was reassured of that.

  “Because… I like you,” I said softly. “I want you…”

  “What? To fuck you and make you fall apart again?” he growled into the side of my face. “Is that what I’m here for? A bad boy to distract you until you find a good man? Or maybe just a good fuck to make you forget whatever bad thing is going on in your life for a few minutes?”

  God, no. I winced, refusing to think about my cancer now.

  I shook my head frantically. “N-no.” The word finally making it over the lump in my throat.

  “Then what do you want me for?” he rasped painfully.

  My heart ached for the man in front of me, so hurt and used by those who should have loved him. I couldn’t blame him for thinking that I was doing no different—taking what I wanted from him and then leaving.

  “I just want to be with you, Nick,” I whispered softly, bringing my hand up to his chest, his heart pounding underneath my touch. “I-I don’t know how to explain it. My whole life I’ve been a fish out of water—following plans and rules that were slowly suffocating me because I’ve been too afraid of drowning. But when I’m with you, I’m back in the sea. And even though I feel like I’m surrounded by chaos, I’ve never felt more alive.”

  I shivered as his lips lightly brushed my neck—back and forth like a clock ticking down. But he didn’t say anything and even though I was sandwiched between him and the door, I felt foolish again. I’d gone too far—too deep—and now I just needed to go.

  “If you don’t want me—”

  “Jesus, Tam—” I jumped when his fist slammed against the door. “I’ve wanted you from the first day I saw you. And I sure as fuck don’t need you to wear sexy shit for me to want you now,” he barked fiercely.

  I bit my lip as hope blossomed in my chest. He wanted me.

  “Do I need to tell you about each and every single time I jacked off to thoughts of you wearing your damn sweaters? Christ—you could walk around wearing a trash can and I’d still—“ He cut off with a short groan. “You want to know how I’ve been taking cold showers every goddamn day since you started working here? Or how they don’t work? How I give up and end up fucking my right hand until I come all over the tiled walls? I swear, my shower has had to clean itself of my cum more times than it’s had to clean me.”

  This wasn’t good. I mean, it was good. It was so good. Too good. My heart… My body… Everything swelled to the point of bursting, hearing just how much I enticed him.

  “I want you so goddamn much that getting the shit kicked out of me was a reprieve from the pain I felt from having to be near you and wanting you the way that I do—that’s how bad it fucking is,” he swore, breathing in so deeply against my neck he sucked down parts of my soul along with the air. “But you see how fucked up my life is right now. I can’t… I can’t make any promises to you. I need you to know that.” He pinched my chin, forcing my eyes to his. “Whatever happens here… I need to do what’s best for Lila, no matter what.”

  “I know.” My heart swelled with the way he cared about his daughter—even if that would mean forsaking me. “No rules,” I said softly and then painfully added, “No promises.”

  His lips crushed mine, demanding everything that I could give. Every stroke of his tongue was another shot of gasoline on the fire. My hips fought the grip of his hand to rub themselves against his hips. I’d never felt like this before.

  My stomach clenched, feeling his fingers undern
eath my shirt, the fabric rising swiftly up and over my chest.

  “Don’t ever wear this shit again to make me want you,” he said angrily, tossing it onto the floor next to us. His hands reached for my ribs. They were sent to remove the bralette, but they got sidetracked. “I barely survive when you’re not trying to seduce me. Keep this up and I won’t last but a few days… Unless you really are trying to kill me.”

  I sucked my lip into my mouth trying to hold back a moan as his eyes dropped to my lace-covered breasts. The twitch of his jaw muscle perfectly mirrored the flick of his thumbs back and forth over my nipples.

  It wasn’t the clothes—it was his words and his touch that said that he was barely controlling himself that made me feel sexy and powerful. “Are… you sure you don’t want to see the rest of it first?”

  I felt his low growl all the way down to my core, a slow rumbling that prefaced the earthquake to follow. “There’s more?”

  Oh, there was more.

  My shaking fingers reached for the waistband of my leggings, fumbling to pull at the elastic to get them over my hips as he refused to stop playing with my nipples. I finally wormed them down onto my thighs as far as I could since he wouldn’t let me bend over.

  He stared at me—and the matching, high-waist lace thong I had on. Seconds passed and the only movement between us was his thumbs brushing over my nipples, twisting tighter the coil inside of me.

  “Nick…” I whispered and his eyes jerked up to mine.

  His hands grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head, his body crushing mine to the door. “What are you trying to do, Priss? Have me hurt you?” he demanded angrily, biting along the edge of my jaw. “Do you want me to fuck you raw? Because that’s what I’m trying to stop myself from doing. I’m trying not to hurt you more than I have to. But then you pull this shit and I’m a fucking inch away from taking your virginity up against this door because I might die if I don’t get my dick inside of you.”

  My mouth parted, gasping for air through the thick fog of desire. I wanted that. I doubted that I should, but I did. His teeth clamped down on my lower lip, sucking it painfully hard into his mouth.