Melt

by Natalie Anderson

  Light refracted somehow, swallowing the wide, wild world so she saw only him, heard only him. It was supposedly freezing out here but she felt no chill. She only felt desire. In a swift move, he reached for her, sealing his mouth to hers, stroking her just the way she wanted to be stroked. Hot and sweet. His tongue touched her lips lightly. And as Emma snuck a swift breath, he swept in.

  In a flash, the intensity increased. So did the depth. Pressure built within her—as did her need for more.

  She slid her hands down his neck and across his shoulders, their bulky gloves and jackets annoying barriers. His hands at her back pressed her closer. Suddenly he was passion personified, kissing her fiercely—as if it were a kiss he’d been waiting for forever and now he wasn’t ever giving it up.

  Her own passion rose to match, ruling her. The devastating attraction she’d been fighting since yesterday was unleashed, and the current of electricity became a violent surge, blowing out her brain and making her capable only of feeling, not thinking. All that mattered was his touch, more and more of his touch. Her nipples ached; she wanted his head and hands at her breasts. She wanted all of him to explore her most heated parts. She wanted to be completely bare. Which was crazy when they were…

  She broke away, sucking in a mouthful of the chilly air. “I’m not here for this,” she muttered breathlessly. This was crazy.

  He ran his gloved thumb across her lower lip in a final caress, and she trembled, an aftershock of sensation almost causing her knees to buckle.

  “Nor am I,” he said softly, seeming serious for the first time. “But here it is.”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  He stepped back. “I’m really not…”

  He really seemed to mean it. The teasing had just been that—teasing, but this pull between them? This white-hot need? It wasn’t funny—it was almost frightening.

  “I’m sorry,” he spoke more clearly. “But you have to admit that was inevitable.”

  “Yes, but that’s it.” She turned and walked farther away from him, desperate to regain some sense of normality and put this spell back in its box.

  She had no intention of getting close to anyone. She’d been let down and left too often. And on the ice with this project, she had a real opportunity to show she had something special to offer the world. If she could pull it off. No one had believed in her before now, so the drive to prove her place here bit hard. She couldn’t let anyone distract her from reaching for that.

  And though Hunter might chase a light fling, she knew it wouldn’t be light for her. Not given the intensity of emotion he’d just stirred in her with a single kiss. Emma never wanted that kind of intensity—because the flip side of fun was heartache. And the flip side of those kinds of fireworks would have to be catastrophic.

  “You’ve been here before, haven’t you?” It wasn’t merely a polite conversation starter to move them on from that mad moment. She was insanely curious about him.

  He nodded. “Last year, I was at the American station. Always wanted to come to this one.”

  “Why?”

  “Smaller.” He walked a few more paces toward the boundary flag. “Fewer people.”

  And that was a good thing? The super-flirt wanted a smaller pool to play in? Or maybe he’d really meant it when he said he hadn’t come here for a hookup.

  “You’re lucky getting to come down here twice,” she prattled, still breathless. “I’ve been waiting forever for my one chance.”

  “Then you’d better make the most of it.”

  “Not with you.” She shook her head. “That’s not happening.”

  He puffed out a deep breath, the air froze and formed a cloud between them. Slowly he nodded. “So why were your eyes watering?”

  “Sorry?”

  He smiled, the light, teasing smile of earlier. “Your lashes froze up. They must have been wet.”

  “Because of the cold.”

  “No,” he admonished gently. “You’re a softie. You were teary about being here.”

  Okay, that she couldn’t deny, so she simply smiled.

  “Come on.” He turned, dropping his gaze from hers. “I’ll show you something amazing.” He chuckled as he took her arm. “And yes, we’re allowed this far.”

  He led her between the path flags, walking for a good ten minutes in sizzle-tipped silence.

  “Wow.” Emma broke it as she stared at the looming lumps in the ice. “What are these?”

  “Pressure ridges,” he answered. “Where the sea ice meets the shelf ice. They slowly collide and form ridges and bumps.”

  Not just bumps; they were beautiful formations—nature’s own ice sculptures and better than anything any artist could create.

  “This is incredible.”

  “Don’t get teary again.” He threw her a teasing look.

  She just shook her head, blinking furiously. It was too late.

  CHAPTER THREE

  FIELD SAFETY TRAINING took two days. Despite the fact she was only to be down there eleven days, Emma had requested to do the full course because part of her project was to experience and then reflect what it’s like to live on the ice. To be able to do her mural back in Christchurch, she needed as much experience of life on the ice as she could. But it meant she’d be pushed for time to finish her mural while actually here. But surely with the endless days, she could manage it.

  They started indoors, sitting through lectures on safety and theory and scientific ethics, including restrictions on how they could approach the wildlife. Emma’s excitement bubbled over again.

  Later they moved outside to the practical aspects of the course—which meant learning how to evacuate from a Hägglund through the top hatch should it start to sink through the ice. No problem for her, given she’d played in the Hägglund in Christchurch many times. But in the afternoon they took their sleeping gear and jumped into another ATV and drove for twenty minutes or so before pulling up. On this stretch of the vast snowy landscape, they built a snow shelter, putting up tents and camping for the night.

  They were divided into two groups of five to build their shelters. The four women present were split. So in her group there was a young woman named Lily, who’d been down briefly last year, plus three of the men. She glanced at the guy she’d managed to avoid most of the morning.

  “Aren’t you lucky having me in your group?” He winked.

  She shook her head. “You’re not lacking in confidence, are you?”

  “Have you ever built a snow shelter before?” he asked. “Because I have.”

  He was strong, too—shoveling more snow than she and the others could work with. They had theirs built a good ten minutes before the other team. He was on it with the tents as well. He and the other woman in the group did one while she and the two remaining men did the other.

  “You’re a pro.”

  Emma heard Lily marveling at his efforts and glanced over, her gaze colliding with Hunter’s. The rogue winked. He really needed to stop doing that.

  They cooked dinner on a Primus and then settled in for the long evening. Emma wasn’t tired in the least, despite the day’s physical work. Nor was anyone else. They sat in camp chairs outside the tent, bundled in their survival gear, and stared at the endless horizon.

  Hunter had more energy than anyone. To Emma’s amazement he got up, grabbed a shovel again, and started digging out some blocks of ice. He then began constructing something with them. “Can you tell what it is yet?” he called to her.

  It took a while as he put the blocks into a circle, but then she nodded. “Stonehenge. Okay, that’s pretty cool.”

  “I’ve finally done something to impress you?” He pressed a thick mitt to his chest. “It’s a miracle.”

  “Sit down, you idiot, and have a rest. It’s late.”

  “Come and walk with me for a minute, or you’ll get stiff.” He reached out and hauled her up.

  “Is Lily a beaker?” Emma couldn’t help asking about the woman who’d been chatting n
onstop to Hunter while he put the tent up all by himself.

  He shook his head. “Domestic replacement for the woman who had to be med-evaced out a couple of weeks ago. She’s actually a hairdresser, but like many of us, she’ll do anything for some time down here.”

  Anything? Emma narrowed her eyes when she saw the twinkle in his. If another woman wanted to come here and experience everything Antarctic life had to offer, then she was perfectly entitled to do so. “Good for her for wanting to broaden her life experience.”

  He leaned close and whispered, “But you don’t think a quick screw in a tiny locked bathroom would broaden your life experience?”

  “Absolutely not. Too quick, too tacky, too uncomfortable.” She crossed her arms and stopped on the ice. “But enough. This joke’s old already. I am not your challenge for this trip. Go find someone else—I’m sure there’ll be someone desperate to roll in the ice and leap into that sauna with you.”

  “But I prefer a challenge.”

  “Only until the challenge is achieved,” Emma said tartly. “You’d just tick it off your list and move on to the next one, right?”

  “Is that so bad?” His shoulders lifted. “I think sometimes people like to be a challenge. They like to set the game so the pursuit has to be relentless and hard.”

  Relentless and hard? Oh my.

  He moved closer. “Sometimes people want to be conquered. They like to have control taken away from them.”

  She raised her brows. “You’re on thin ice with that idea.”

  He chuckled. “I mean, they like to be freed to be as bad as they don’t dare to be ordinarily.”

  “Really.” She almost rolled her eyes. “You’re into liberation?”

  “Yeah, that’s it.” He nodded, laughter in his voice. “Sometimes people need to be set free.”

  “By being conquered?”

  “By having their walls of repression smashed.” He dared her to have a fit at him.

  “Through sex?” she asked as sarcastically as she could, but inside she was totally heating up.

  “How else?” he murmured. “By being dominated and made to lose control and succumb to the ecstasy.”

  She managed a laugh and shook her head. “I don’t need to be liberated, thanks.”

  “You’d prefer to be captured, then?” He nodded like he finally got it now. “How about bound?”

  “You’re never tying me up.” A breathless denial.

  “I’m not being tied up, either, so we’ll flag that idea,” he agreed. “Still, I’m sure we could set boundaries that we’re both comfortable with.”

  “The boundaries are here.” She made a wall with her hands, slicing through the space out from her body—as if showing a force field around her. “No getting past these walls.”

  “See?” He laughed. “You can’t help but set me a challenge.”

  “No, you can’t help but see it as a challenge. There’s a difference.”

  “I’m not convinced.”

  “It’s only because you’re being so outrageous.”

  “I’m only doing that because you’re so uptight.”

  “I’m not uptight.” She stamped her boot.

  “Please, you’re the most uptight person ever to hit this place. Too scared to look at any male in case he’s about to pounce. Making it oh so clear you’re here on earnest endeavors, and you won’t be participating in any of those hijinks.”

  She tried to go back to prim. “I am here to work hard.”

  “As is everyone else, but you can’t play, either?”

  “Nope, not interested in being anyone’s plaything. Certainly not for less than a fortnight.”

  “Why?” He sidled closer. “Got a boyfriend?”

  She glared at him. “Is it really any of your business?”

  “Thought not.”

  “Don’t even try to suggest that I’m so uptight, what I’m in need of is a good, hard screw.”

  His brows shot up. “Your words, darling.”

  She wasn’t uptight, but she knew that physical intimacy led to complications. Keeping it light and fun wasn’t in her makeup. She’d missed out on the physical comfort most people got from their parents and family for a long part of her childhood. By the time she’d gotten to Bea she was a mass of prickles. She’d worked on it, but the first time a guy had bothered to hold her and whisper words of care, she’d read too much into it. Ditto the second time. For all her street smarts, she’d been naïve. Now she knew it was safer for her to keep her distance.

  “So why are you here?” he asked, watching her closely and suddenly looking more serious.

  “Who wouldn’t want to come to Antarctica?”

  “But the people who actually get here tend to be quite driven. There’s something pulling them, so they will do whatever to get here.”

  “I wanted to experience the isolation. I wanted to see what it was like to be surviving.” She looked at him. “Why are you down here? What drove you?”

  “I’m on vacation, and I’m avoiding the holidays,” he said bluntly.

  “You came all the way to Antarctica to avoid Christmas?” She laughed.

  He nodded.

  “But there’s tinsel all over the lounge,” she argued.

  “I can handle tinsel.”

  “Is it the family you can’t handle?”

  “Bingo.” He grinned.

  “You don’t think it’s worth making the effort to get along just for a day?”

  “I think forcing people to spend time together when they’d rather not, with too much food and drinks and ancient issues on hand, is a recipe for disaster.”

  Okay, she could grant him that, but she wasn’t going to verbalize her agreement—he was confident enough already. “I love Christmas,” she said.

  “Of course you do. I bet you have one of those big happy family gatherings, don’t you?”

  Actually, no, she didn’t. There’d be just Grandma Bea and her. “It’s not the size that matters.”

  He opened his mouth, but she knew what he was about to say and clapped her gloved hand over his lips to stop him.

  “Enough,” she admonished.

  He smiled. She knew because she saw it in his eyes, but she also felt it through her gloved fingers—the soft sliding curve of his lips. She paused as the temptation to press closer whispered. She touched him for ten seconds too long, staring into his blue eyes. Then she felt movement beneath her hand…

  He nipped her glove with his teeth, and she snatched her hand back, heat bursting in her belly. “You’re incorrigible.” And mesmerizing. She was the proverbial moth and he the incandescent flame.

  He laughed. “And I’m betting you’ve had a fling go wrong before.”

  “A holiday fling, yes.” She shrugged it off like it was nothing but was glad of the reminder—the thought of it almost doused the inferno inside her.

  “What happened?”

  “The usual.” She breezed through the basics. “I was on holiday with a bunch of people in close quarters in a foreign place. Half the people hook up. It’s all very intense and passionate and not at all real.”

  Something flickered in his eyes. “Where were you?”

  “Bali.”

  “Your first trip away?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So you had a fling. And then?”

  “And then there’s the end. The good-bye. The regrets. The what-ifs.”

  “But you know the good-bye is coming. There’s no missing something you never really had.”

  “Yeah? Definitely not something for him. But he’d said there was, so there actually was for me. So why would I knowingly go down that road again when I already know the hurt that’s at the end of it?”

  His gaze narrowed. “There shouldn’t be hurt. There should just be a, ‘Thank you for making this time so magical. Without you it wouldn’t have been nearly so amazing.’”

  “Is that how you play it?” She raised one brow. “You mean, ‘Without you I wouldn’t hav
e had all that hot sex.’”

  “Nothing wrong with hot sex.”

  “No, but that’s never all there is. There’s always more. There are always complications.”

  “What were the complications with the Bali guy?”

  “The affair lasted the whole trip. Every minute of every day together, you know? So there were tears at the airport—both of us.” He really had cried. “He’d said more…stuff,” she fudged, not wanting to reveal what a complete idiot she’d been. But he’d told her he loved her, that he’d wanted her to go and live with him, and that had played on her weakest part. No one had ever wanted her to live with him—not without being paid to do so. Not even Grandma Bea.

  “So, he said stuff that wasn’t true?”

  She nodded but didn’t explain further.

  “He already had a girlfriend?” Hunter paused at her silence, and his brows shot up. “A wife?”

  In some ways it would have been better if there had been another woman. Then she’d have come second to something. But no, the guy was single. “No,” Emma said quietly. “He just didn’t want to know me after the trip.”

  Hunter frowned. “You met up with him again?”

  “Yep,” she mumbled. It was the most embarrassing bit. She’d chased him, and he’d been clearly embarrassed. He hadn’t wanted to introduce her to his housemates; he was a total playboy who wasn’t up for any kind of commitment. He’d just been spouting rubbish to get his rocks off on holiday. Nothing had been so crushing. Her already tragic self-esteem had been trashed by that cutting lack of welcome and the curt good-bye.

  She’d tried to recover her poise instantly. She had some pride after all. She wasn’t about to beg the guy. And she’d gotten the hell out of there as quickly as she could.

  “Sounds to me like he wasn’t honest from the start.”

  “He wasn’t honest at any time,” she said.

  “Then he’s not worth spending another second of your life on. Forget him.” He made it sound so easy.

  “I have.” She hardly ever thought of him. But she wouldn’t forget the lesson she’d learned. It was the final nail in her trust coffin. People could never, ever be relied on. No matter what they said.