Ice

by Chelsea Camaron

  “The withdrawals have passed. The meds seemed to ease it. She is coming off those now. She doesn’t remember anything of her actual captivity. Her last memory before waking up here was being asked by a man to hold a cable on his car so he could get it started. Everything after that is a blur. At least, that is what she tells me. Sometimes I wonder if she remembers more than that and just doesn’t want to tell me. I see the battle in her eyes as she fights to push back the darkness that is ruling her life. She gets upset because she feels like she should’ve known better. She was having cramps and wanted relief. Instead, she got a lifetime of scars.”

  Something dark passes through Coal’s features. “Make sure she gets whatever help she needs. Don’t let this haunt her.” Without another word, he turns and leaves me standing there, wondering what ghosts are chasing him.

  My morning passes as every morning has lately. I make breakfast, try to help Madyson get through her school work, clean up, and go through the motions of refusing to allow myself to breakdown as my sister struggles. The reality is daunting. She can’t concentrate. I don’t blame her, but we need to make some decisions. She has missed too many days, and the school wants answers. I don’t have them to give, and Madyson doesn’t want to talk about it. She tells me constantly that she doesn’t want to think about her future.

  When my phone vibrates in my back pocket, the screen flashes the name Ice, and my heart flutters a little in my chest.

  “Hello,” I greet, trying to be cheerful. I don’t want to be a concern or burden for him.

  “How ya doin’?” Ice asks, much in the same way he does every time he checks in. He may not be here physically; however, he calls and texts enough to make it known we are on his mind.

  “Getting by. Coal has been great,” I reply honestly.

  “He has, has he?” Ice says sarcastically.

  Surely, he is not jealous of Coal? I haven’t seen Ice in weeks, and he wants to be a smartass on the phone with me?

  “Considering my sister and I have all but moved into his house without warning or a real invitation, yeah, I would say he’s been great.”

  “You could move in with Brooke and me anytime you want. We put you there to begin with so your sister could have her privacy until she was ready to see Brooke. Since my daughter has been there every day, since two days after her rescue, I would say my house would be the best place for you.”

  “Where do you come up with this stuff?” I question harshly. This man is exasperating. “Why would I think we were welcome to stay there?”

  “Why wouldn’t you be? Clue in, woman. It was my bed you were sleepin’ in before you went there, and it’ll be my bed you’re sleepin’ in when it’s all said and done.”

  “Where I slept is irrelevant. This entire thing has been a crazy, adrenaline fueled matter of circumstance, and when Madyson is ready to go home, we’re going back to my place,” I say, unable to comprehend exactly what he is telling me.

  Is he serious? I don’t want to get my hopes up and then be let down. Do I want to share a bed with Brett ‘Ice’ Grady? The answer is yes, I do. However, we come from two completely different worlds. That does not mean I cannot see past his gruff biker exterior. Because I do. There is a softer side to this man. There is this loyalty that drives him to take care of those he calls his own. Seeing him with his daughter is pure, unconditional love at its finest. There is infinitely more to this man than the asshole I first met. That doesn’t mean the two of us together makes sense.

  He is the kind of man who does whatever he wants without asking for permission. He reminds me of that phrase, ‘It’s better to ask forgiveness than to ask for permission.’

  I have always lived by other people’s opinions and rules, never stepping out of those carefully drawn lines people, like my parents, laid down for me. I am the kind of woman who waits for the green light before crossing the street because I don’t want to get a ticket for jaywalking. His world consists of people who do not walk on the right side of the law. I am not stupid; it didn’t take me long to realize he and his men have not only stepped over to the criminal side, in some aspects, they run it in this area. I am simply not certain to what extent their business goes.

  How can this possibly work between us?

  “Kissin’ me was a crazy, adrenaline fueled matter of circumstance, huh? You didn’t even know where I was goin’ or what I was doin’, so you can’t say that kiss was for good luck or because you were afraid it would be goodbye. So then, tell me, sweetheart, what was that all about?”

  Oh, my goodness, he is actually going to talk about it. The best kiss I have ever had. The kiss I can’t get out of my mind. The kiss I want to replay over and over again so perhaps I can feel a phantom caress of his lips across my own. The kiss I want to happen again, as well as so much more, and he actually wants to talk about it? No! This is mortifying.

  “It was a crazy … ummm … moment of weakness,” I stammer out.

  “Sweetheart, I’d be more than happy to make you weak, just not in the way you’re referring to. But I’m warnin’ you now, don’t give me some line of bullshit that you aren’t cravin’ another kiss from me. I bet you enjoyed my mouth on you so much that, if I had stuck my hand down your pants, your cream would have coated my fingers.”

  What a cocky bastard! I am completely embarrassed. I have never talked about a kiss after it happened. Not that I have that many kisses under my belt. Nor have I ever been spoken to in such a way about something as intimate as a body’s physical reaction. Is this what it is supposed to be like? God, when I finally have sex, does that require a discussion, too?

  I hear a feminine voice call his name in the background, giving me the perfect escape. A curl of jealousy moves through me, but I push it aside. It is probably one of the strippers at After Midnight, and even if it wasn’t, I have no claim over the man who consumes more of my thoughts than he should. He could boink half of Florida, and I would have no right to say anything to him about it.

  “You’re busy. I’ll let you go,” I rush out, eager to get him off the phone so I can try to straighten my head out about this man who haunts me in too many ways.

  “There’s no letting go between us, Morgan. Get that straight right now. I’m man enough to see something I want and not be afraid to go for it. I do have to handle business, though. I’ll be in touch.” The call is disconnected without another word, and I am left feeling like I am very much in over my head with this man.

  The day passes with Ice remaining on my mind. After Madyson passes out from exhaustion, I am sitting in Coal’s living room, watching the television, when I hear the front door open and close. Thinking it is Coal coming home, I don’t bother to turn around. Although he has been nothing except nice, I try to stay out of his way to avoid bothering him.

  I hear the heavy thunk of booted steps on the floor behind me and assume Coal is walking towards the back of the house to where his bedroom is located. Sometimes, he comes home long enough to shower and change before heading out to wherever it is he goes to give us space. However, when the footsteps stop directly behind me on the other side of the couch I freeze, my body tensing.

  Leaning my head backwards, I look up to see Ice staring back down at me. The expression on his face has my heart immediately pounding in my chest. No man has ever looked at me like this, like he wants to consume me, eat me alive. The thought makes me blush.

  The side of his mouth kicks up and he murmurs, “I’d pay a pretty penny to know what the thought is that made your face flush like that.”

  The fact that he notices my blush only makes it worse.

  “What are you doing here?” I whisper.

  “Came to see if we could have another adrenaline fueled matter of circumstance.”

  It is official. I am positive that I am now red from embarrassment from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

  “If I were to peel your clothes of right now, would I see that gorgeous pink color all over?”

  Like I
am going to answer that. “I thought you had business to attend to?”

  “Got the business for the day done, babe.”

  “Including the woman who called your name when we were on the phone?” My mouth snaps shut as soon as the question leaves my mouth. Why in the world did I ask that? I could have sworn I had gotten it through my head that it was none of my business what Ice does.

  I watch as his eyebrow cocks up. Then he looks at me as if I am a puzzle. Right when I am about to tell him to forget what I have said, he moves around the couch and comes to stand in front of me. Turning, he pushes back the wooden coffee table a little bit and then sits down on it, facing me. His elbows are on his thighs, his hands hanging between his legs, and his face is an impervious mask I cannot read.

  “For a woman who told me we were nothing but an adrenaline fueled excuse earlier, that comment sounded awfully jealous. You wanna explain that to me?”

  Unsure what to say, I shake my head.

  “Okay, then I’m gonna explain shit to you. You’re mine.” He holds up his hand when I open my mouth to protest. “Nope, keep your mouth shut till I’m done talkin’. Like I said, you’re mine. I gave you some time to help get your sister settled, and now I’m done wastin’ it. I want you. I’m gonna have you, and you’re damn well gonna have me in every way that counts. You understand what I’m sayin’ to you?”

  Oh, my God. Did he just insinuate what I think he did?

  “Yeah, babe, I did. And, in case you didn’t know it, you said that out loud. Now, let me explain to you what else that comment meant. I don’t do the jealousy bullshit. While we are whatever we are, you’re not gonna come at me verbally swingin’ some bullshit about other women. I work with ‘em. I don’t touch ‘em. Get over it.”

  Anger and uncertainty fill me. “You expect me to believe you’re going to be faithful to me when I’ve heard about the revolving door on your bedroom?”

  “There is no revolving door on my bedroom. That implies I bring women to my home to fuck ‘em, and that’s something I rarely do because of Brooke. I usually fuck ‘em at the club. The few that have come to the house are when I know she won’t be home and they never stay.”

  My mouth drops open in surprise at his frank comments about his sex life. “And, after that comment, do you really believe I’ll think you would be faithful to me?”

  Ice leans forward, reaches his hand out, snags me by the back of my neck, and pulls me forward so we are nose to nose. We are breathing the same air, filling all of my senses with him.

  In a low, husky voice, he then says, “Yeah, Morgan, I do. If I have to fuck you three times a day to prove that I’m not takin’ my dick anywhere else, I will. Believe me when I say, I don’t want any other woman but you. Don’t ask me why, because I can’t explain it. All I know is that you make me think things I haven’t thought about since Brooke’s mom died. You make me feel things I thought had died inside of me long ago. Now that you woke me up, babe, you’re gonna live life with me. I figure I can teach you how to pull that stick out of your ass to live wild and free. In return, you can teach me how to go from day to day havin’ someone in my life that I care about like this without worryin’ they’re gonna leave me again.”

  My breath rushes out, deflating me and my anger into nothing. How can a man this strong be afraid of anything?

  “Why would I need to teach you that, Ice?”

  He runs his nose along the ridge of my own. “Lost my wife, baby. That does somethin’ to a man. It makes him want to close off the part of himself that lets anyone in, the part that feels too much when someone he cares about disappears. Besides Brooke and my brothers, I had done exactly that. Then you came into my life, flashin’ your cute and makin’ me want more. Now I’ve decided you’re gonna give it to me. Thing is, I promise you’ll like given’ it to me.”

  I nibble on my bottom lip. “Maybe I’m scared to give into you.”

  He smiles. “Guess I’m gonna have to convince you then, baby.” He doesn’t give me a chance to respond. His lips crash down on mine in a hungry urgency that makes my toes curl. I feel his tongue do a searching sweep across the seam of my own lips, and I open myself to his invasion. There is something about this man that is hard to say no to. Besides, if I am honest with myself, I don’t want to tell him no. Every fiber of my being wants to tell him yes to everything, especially when he kisses me like this.

  Our tongues tangle, his sweet, minty taste making me moan. It is intoxicating, heady. We kiss for who knows how long, until I become lightheaded. I would happily pass out into oblivion as long as Ice’s firm lips never left my own. He finally pulls back from our intoxicating kiss and rests his forehead against my own while we pant, trying to catch our breath.

  “Damn you taste sweet. Wish I could stay and taste you more, but I need to get home to Brooke.”

  My mind is in a haze of dazed pleasure, making me addle-brained and unable to respond; therefore, I simply nod my head.

  Pulling back, he gives me a kiss on my forehead before standing up and stepping away. Just as he moves to take another step, he places a plastic grocery bag on the table in front of me.

  “What’s this?”

  He gives me a wicked grin. “Thought I’d bring you something sweet to eat since I plan to be eating something sweet soon.” He laughs at the appalled look on my face. Then, giving me a mischievous wink, he walks out of the house, leaving me to my bewildered thoughts.

  How is it that this man always manages to leave me speechless and unsure of what he will say or do next? I am not sure if I will ever be able to handle all that encompasses the man known as Ice.

  Chapter

  20

  Ice

  One Week Later…

  “Did you know Morgan may have to call her parents and move home with Madyson?” Brooke asks me as she finishes getting ready for us to meet the very women she just mentioned.

  We are supposed to be helping them pack up from Coal’s and get them back to Morgan’s place. They don’t really have a lot of stuff, but the girls want to hang out, and I want to see Morgan again. This week kept me busy with club business; as a result, I haven’t seen her since I dropped off that dessert I bought her. What my daughter is telling me now, though, makes me think I should have asked my woman more questions when she sounded so distracted on the phone.

  “What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”

  “Morgan missed too much time at work. They replaced her. She’s been applying for jobs, but hasn’t found anything. She doesn’t have much left in her savings account, and Madyson isn’t ready to work. She already dropped out of school for this year. They don’t have anywhere to go but back home. At least, until Morgan can get a job. And that is if their parents will even let them come back.”

  “Stay here. I’ll be back,” I order, walking out the door and straight to my bike.

  Waiting is not my strong suit. For her, I will wait; for this, I will not.

  In my impatience, I make a call to my in-house tech geek for her location. Screech lets me know she seems to be en route to her condo.

  Yes, I am still tracking her phone. I have no intention of stopping, either.

  Pulling up to her place, I don’t see her car in the parking lot, but I know she can’t be far behind me. That’s okay; I have something I want to take care of before she gets here anyway.

  After I accomplish my short mission, I head back to my bike, leaning against it until I see Morgan’s little car pull in and park. I am not waiting very long when she walks up carrying a duffle bag of her belongings.

  “Ice,” she greets, studying me curiously. “I wasn’t expecting you here. You didn’t have to wait around for me. You know my number; why didn’t you call?”

  “I didn’t want to be expected, and I didn’t want to call. Where’s Madyson?” I clip out.

  “At Coal’s, packing our toiletries and the last of the clothes,” she answers uncertainly.

  I can tell she is picking up on my anger and is
confused as to why I am in the mood that I am in. She bites her bottom lip, and as cute as it is, it does nothing to curb the ire building in me. She is walking to her doorstep as I continue on alongside her.

  She is still trying to figure me out when she hesitantly adds, “I told you not to come. We don’t need more help. You all have done so much. I’ll never be able to repay you for what you’ve done for us.”

  Taking the bag from her arm, I move aside for her to unlock the front door. As soon as we enter, I start the inquisition.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, shutting and locking the door behind us.

  “Tell you what?”

  Facing her, I bark back, “Your job. Your living arrangements. Your financial situation. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She takes the bag from me with no response. Making her way down the hall, she carries it to her bedroom as if she is running from me. I snort. Like I am going to let her run from me this time. My woman is about to learn some hard lessons. As in, you do not hide your problems from your man.

  “It’s not your problem; it’s mine. You know, take responsibility and all that,” she fires back. I can tell she is unnerved by the way I am dogging her heels, unwilling to let her ignore me.

  She moves to her closet, only I grab her wrist and tug her to me. As she stumbles, I pull her against me tightly. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I cup her ass with my large hand and squeeze. Then, with my free hand, I cup her chin and tilt her head back to look at me.

  “Sweetheart, you’re playin’ with fire. That mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble.”

  Her eyes dance in challenge, turning me on more.

  “This isn’t your concern,” she whispers as her breathing picks up. Yes, I am driving her as crazy as she is me.

  “Everything about you is my concern.”

  “I promised Madyson it’s only temporary until I can get a new job. We can help Mallory this way, too. Being with her we can all work together to get out again. I don’t even know if my parents will let us come back; again, it’s not your problem.”