Hotter on Ice

by Rebecca Hunter

He stilled under her, his fingers tense. Then he nodded. “I do, too.”

  His gaze was dark, unreadable. She lifted her hands to his face, and, gently, she cupped his jaw. He closed his eyes as her fingers met his skin. Slowly she ran her thumb over one of the ropy scars by his mouth. A rumble came from deep inside him.

  “How does this feel?”

  He paused, his breath uneven. “Intense.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  Henning gave a raspy laugh. “Hell, no. Very much the opposite.”

  “Good.” Alya smiled. “Ready?”

  He nodded. Alya leaned forward, resting her hands against his biceps. She waited there, looking for hesitation. There was tension, so much tension, as they waited there on the edge of this precipice. But he gave her a little nod, willing to jump. So she brushed her lips against his, testing. His cock throbbed against her, and the muscles of his arms hardened under her fingers. She tested again. His lips felt...different. A good different. She stayed there, not moving, breathing in his warm scent, getting used to this new tentative exploration. Letting him get used to her. More breaths, each uneven rasp stoking heat inside her. She pressed her mouth more firmly against his, and this time he responded. He parted his lips and tasted her. Every brush of his lips, every swipe of his tongue was achingly slow.

  Alya tilted her head, learning how their mouths fit together, learning what made him groan. His hands tightened around her, and she slid her fingers along his jaw, the heaviness of each scar line weighing under her hand.

  And then something flipped. It was as if he finally let the pent-up want from those five years loose. His kisses turned greedy, and a growl escaped from his chest as he nipped at her lips and sucked on her tongue. All the softness from before was fading, and God, how she loved this new, hungrier side. She moved, letting the stiff, thick ridge of his cock drag along her core, and he responded, tilting his hips, giving them both that exquisite friction. Sighs. Moans. Wordless pleas from her lips for more. Her body was on fire, the pressure building inside as his cock moved against her clit. She kissed the scarred corner of his mouth, his jaw, finding the rough lines, the smooth lines, the stubble. She wanted all of it.

  “Fuck, you turn me on.” His whisper rasped in her ear. “I want to make you feel good. Can you come like this?”

  Alya hadn’t thought that far, but now that he mentioned it... “I think so.”

  “Good.” His teeth scraped her neck. “Hang on tight.”

  She rested her hands on his shoulders and closed her eyes. Damn, just the muscles of his shoulders were enough to send a jolt of pleasure through her. Then, he began lifting her up and down in a slow, steady rhythm that was...oh, God, it was exactly what she wanted.

  “Like this?” he whispered. “Does this feel good?”

  His voice was a rasp in her ear, a low, rough invitation.

  “Yes, Henning,” she moaned, her head dropping to his neck as the pleasure built.

  The moment his name left her lips, a new rumble came from deep in his chest. Then another. Sounds of raw, insatiable hunger, of contrasts, pleasure and pain, want and fear. And need. So much need. His voice called to something buried inside her, uncovering it. New desires bubbled, still not fully formed. The aching sound grew louder, but it was her own moan that filled the car. She was right there on the edge of coming as he thrusted his hips harder. She searched for his mouth again. The kiss was rough, each aching stroke of his tongue matching the thrust of his cock against her.

  Pleasure shot through her as she moved, drawing out the orgasm, losing herself in the heat of their bodies, in the scent of sex, in him. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she rested her cheek on his thick shoulder, breathing in his scent. Henning’s heart thudded in her ear.

  What had just happened? The connection between them was so powerful, almost as if—

  Slow down. She wasn’t going to mistake pleasure and affection for something else. The ecstasy-induced haze was clouding her brain. So, instead, she took one last, long inhale of turned-on male and put a little distance between them.

  “Well, that was certainly a full-service kiss,” she said, her voice languid with pleasure.

  Henning chuckled, the sound echoing deep in his chest. “It exceeded expectations in every way.”

  She really should get up, do...something, but he was so warm, and she really didn’t want to move. Henning’s cock throbbed urgently against her. She peered into his dark brown eyes.

  “You didn’t come yet,” she said with a little smile. “I can help you with that.”

  He shook his head. “It would be messy, and it’s going to get cold in here soon. I’ll take care of that later.”

  “You’ll take care of it?” She tilted her head at him. “Alone?”

  “I’m good at it,” he said, laughter in his voice.

  Alya raised her eyebrows. How much lightness and humor did this man have, buried inside him? “I’d like to see that.”

  His cock pulsed against her, and he groaned. Then a hint of a smile drew at the uninjured side of his mouth. “I bet you would.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “TIME TO WAKE UP,” said Henning, a little louder.

  Alya still didn’t stir. As soon as her first meeting had ended, she’d crashed into bed and hadn’t moved since. He had let her sleep as long as he could, watching her from the chair by the window of their hotel room. Her long, blond hair was a halo around her face, and her full lips were parted. In another life, he would have woken her up with his lips, but not in this one.

  Still, she wasn’t waking from his voice alone, so he stood up and crossed the room to her bed. Resting his hand on the bare, white wall, he bent down and brushed his fingers over her cheek.

  “Sweetheart? We need to go.”

  Her eyelashes fluttered, and she drew in a sleepy breath. Henning braced himself against the warmth swelling inside him. For years he had watched her through someone else’s lens, in magazines, on billboards, and through the Blackmore Inc. surveillance system. This was so different, so real, so raw. He had no words to understand what was happening inside him now that she had chosen him to be here. To protect her. To satisfy her. He’d devote himself to these tasks, keeping his past at bay, controlling this tightness in his chest, this swelling of something, something he wouldn’t name.

  Alya blinked a couple times, brushing off sleep. Then she met his gaze, parted her lips and...smiled. She fucking smiled, her eyes dancing with lightness as she looked up at him. Coming out of sleep, unguarded, vulnerable, she smiled like he was exactly who she wanted to see when she awoke. The swelling inside him was threatening to burst.

  “The time change is disorienting,” she said, seemingly unaware that his entire world was tilting. So he took a breath and let her warm voice pull him in. “I was hoping this wasn’t a dream.”

  It was all happening so fast. When she parted her lips, his brain short-circuited. Kiss her. Kiss her. The temptation was so sharp and bare that it almost overwhelmed him. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. Not happening. This was for her, and only her. If they were going to spend the next couple days in close quarters, he needed to get this situation under control.

  “Listen, about earlier,” he said. “About what happened in the car...”

  Her cheeks turned a pale pink, and she propped herself up on her elbow. Her mouth was so temptingly close. “I kinda jumped on you. I’m sorry if I put you in a bad position. Again.”

  “I didn’t mind that particular position at all. I was very into it,” he said with a laugh.

  Alya smirked at his comment, then gave a sigh. “But we shouldn’t? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

  He shook his head slowly. “I’m happy to do that as many times as you want. Or anything else you’re interested in. That’s up to you.”

  “I think I made it clear I’m interested.” She blinked at
him. “Still, I sense a but coming.”

  He blew out his breath. “The moment we walk out of the room, I’m your bodyguard.”

  She tilted her head to the side and smiled a little. “You’re warning me that we won’t be sneaking off to try out one of those ice beds?”

  “That sounds really fucking cold.”

  “I understand.” Her smile faded. “Because I’m interfering with your job?”

  Henning frowned. To be with someone physically scarred like him would make her—and him—the center of attention. Henning had watched her life in the media enough to see exactly how it would play out: grainy photos of them on the front of all the tabloids. And then what? With Alya’s more recent dates, the comments were pettier. But Henning was a big fucker with scars and little patience for people in general. After studying Nick Bancroft for three years, Henning knew how that bastard worked. He was almost sure the guy was a clinical narcissist. Nick still hadn’t forgotten that Alya left him, and he might use this chance to make a fresh dig about her unstable mental health or make up some story about how she called him again, begging to take her back, and use it as a reason to show up. Just the idea of it made his blood boil, but how the hell did he talk about this with her?

  Henning blew out a breath and tried his best. “Look, you hired me so there was no drama on this trip. And I don’t want any...speculations on my watch.”

  “I spent three years shaping my life around avoiding Nick. I turned down jobs because they required traveling to Los Angeles. I’ve hired a bodyguard to go to events, even when you were checking to make sure Nick was still across the Pacific. I’m done with that,” she said. “It’s true that I don’t want to attract too much attention to my personal life, but I’m not going to let that mean I can’t have one. It just means we need to be careful.”

  He shook his head. What she was saying made sense. She wasn’t making decisions based on fear, and she was willing to take some risks. But what was the point of this risk? So he could hold her hand in the Icebar? Nope, not worth it.

  Alya opened her mouth, as if she was going to argue with him, but she hesitated. Then understanding registered in her eyes. “You meant speculations about you,” she said softly.

  He frowned. “I’m not concerned about that.”

  “I am.” She blinked up at him, her sky-blue eyes clear and unwavering.

  Then she bit her lip, and his eyes dropped to her mouth. Focus.

  “But if you’re not by my side, there will be other results, ones you might not like,” she said.

  Like a hard-on from watching her all day long? He had already reconciled himself with that reality. He gave her a little smirk. “I can handle it.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “We can talk about it after you see what I mean.” She was looking at him, like she was assessing him. He leveled his gaze on her, letting her look her fill. Better if she saw him clearly from the beginning.

  At last, she nodded. “Fine. But you’re okay with a little fun when it’s just the two of us?”

  “Anything you want.” He touched her cheek. Her skin was so unbearably soft under his fingers.

  She covered his hand with hers. “What do you want?”

  He looked down at her, so close to him on this bed. She was waiting for his answer.

  Finally he sighed and told her the truth. “I want you, any way I can have you.”

  Her breath came out somewhere between a sigh and a moan, and the memory of the kiss in the car came crashing down on him. The memory of the sweet tenderness of her lips that so quickly burst into flames. Alya straddling him, her hands holding him so tight it felt like she’d never let go. And he wanted that again, fuck, how he wanted that. Badly. Just one moment of selfishness, one kiss because he wanted it. Henning put his knee on the bed next to her and leaned down, searching her expression. And, oh, that smile as he came close, more than an invitation, with a dizzying lightness that took his breath away.

  He closed the last distance between them, his mouth on hers again, and she sighed—she sighed. This was too good to be real, but the ache inside was too strong for it to be otherwise. Henning licked the seam of her mouth, and she opened for him. She was here, solid under his hands, all soft lips and hungry explorations. The aching need, the gaping hole inside him opened right back up, and he couldn’t contain it. He gave her soft strokes of his tongue, and she matched them with her own. Then she reached up, threading her fingers in his hair, and pulled him down on top of her. They landed on the bed, him over her, laughing, kissing. God, yes. He could kiss her all day. Wait. No. She needed to be somewhere right now.

  “Your schedule,” he murmured, his lips so close to hers. She nodded, her nose brushing against his. So intimate.

  Mine. The thought was there before he could shove it back down, and he struggled to bury it, along with the surge of protectiveness that followed. Alya wasn’t his. She couldn’t be.

  Time to turn it off. Time to be the person she needed. He closed his eyes and blew out a breath. Remember the fucking limits, Henning. If just kissing her was enough to loosen something inside, he needed to be really careful. Especially in a little hotel room. Where they’d be alone. Together. All. Night. Long.

  His dick gave an unhelpful throb, so he pulled back, untangling himself from her arms.

  “You’re due at the kick-off party in the Icebar,” he whispered, straightening up, adjusting himself. “I’ll put on my winter gear.”

  That turned out to be a project. Getting dressed to sit around in freezing conditions took a lot of energy, as did walking around in the gear. The snowsuits the hotel loaned all the guests were warm as hell, which really wasn’t working inside, but his discomfort was far outweighed by the knowledge that Alya wouldn’t be cold when they sat in the Icebar. Still, by the time they made it out of the hotel room, Henning was burning up—and for once, Alya wasn’t the reason.

  “I can’t wait to see this place,” she said as they walked through the quiet hallway, seemingly unfazed by the heat. “Ready to be amazed?”

  He shrugged and gave her a hint of a smile. “All I’m thinking right now is that this has cold as fuck written all over it.”

  Alya laughed. “Probably. But I think it’ll be more than that.”

  The farther they walked from their room, the quieter the hallway seemed to get. Every step took them closer to the fashion world, where she was at home and he so clearly didn’t belong. Henning frowned as he held open the door for Alya, and they both walked out into the snow.

  The cold wind slapped his face, triggering memories that caught him off guard. Everything inside him seized up, and for one, terrible moment, he was back in that warehouse. Lying on the ice-cold concrete floor, with pain everywhere. The shards of glass from the explosion embedded in his skin. Knowing that fucker had triggered the explosion on purpose, just big enough for him to get away.

  Shit.

  Hell, no. Not going there. Henning swallowed. He had faced the cold a few times in the last five years, but with Alya, every sensation was intensified, including this. How the hell he was going to get through a night in a room made of ice was still a mystery, but he’d do it.

  Breathe in, breathe out. Everything was under control. She was fine. The tightness in his chest eased a little as he took another deep breath. And he was ready as the next gust hit him. Just one foot in front of the other.

  Alya looked up at him. “You okay?”

  He gave her a stiff nod. “Thank fuck they loan out winter gear here. Back in Sydney, I couldn’t have imagined just how cold a place like this could be. You okay?”

  Her long legs and slim waist meant she had a lot less built-in protection. But she didn’t seem uncomfortable. She stretched her arms out as the snow fell down on her, welcoming it. “I’m great. Even warm.”

  So he blew out a breath and concentrated on that.

  It was sti
ll daytime according to the clock, but there were no traces of the sun. Instead, there was a hazy dusk-like glow near the tops of the trees, the sun having barely scraped the horizon hours ago before sinking out of sight again. Now, the only lights were electric, hung everywhere, sparkling on the blanket of snow that covered everything.

  There was no mistaking where they were headed. The arched entrance to the frozen structure that made up the cold half of the Icehotel glowed a mysterious blue at the end of their path, and the enormous white mounds of the snow structure stretched out in all directions, disappearing into the darkness. Little wooden houses stood around the hotel, each with candles in the windows. They walked through the quiet stillness, side by side, together.

  “Are those...reindeer parts?” asked Alya, her gaze latched on the doorway.

  They came to a stop in front of the entrance to the Icehotel, and Henning studied it. She was right. The door was covered with what looked like reindeer pelts, and the handles were made of...antlers?

  Henning chuckled. “I think this is a sign that the accommodations will be on the rustic side.”

  As he reached for the door handle, Alya sighed and closed her eyes. The snow was falling in large fluffy flakes, and they clung to her dark lashes.

  “Still okay?” he asked.

  Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled at him.

  “We only get one chance to see this place for the first time,” she said. “I just want to make sure I’m paying attention.”

  Henning nodded slowly. He knew what she meant. Already today, he had felt it more than once: the wish to stop time, to somehow save that first sensation. But for him, that urge had come when he touched her. Kissed her. This wouldn’t last forever, not the feeling, and not this intimacy, but the memory might last if he was careful with it.

  He rested his heavy glove on the antler. “Here we go.”

  Henning held the door open for Alya and stepped in behind her. And stopped. The entire interior was ice and snow. Everything. Of course, he had seen it in photos, but to experience it was an entirely different thing. The structure itself was domed, made of snow, with blocks of ice everywhere, clear but with a hint of blue echoing throughout the space. It was nothing like the ice that came out of his freezer. Absolutely incredible. The packed snow of the ceiling and floor reflected the tiny lights set up to make the ice sculptures glow. There was a chandelier hanging in the entrance hall—ice, too, Henning suspected. In the middle of the foyer, there was an enormous ice sculpture of what looked like a Nordic god, bearded and armored, with sword in hand. The bluish cast to the place made him think of the ocean or even the sky.