Hotter on Ice

by Rebecca Hunter

  “I really like this position right here,” she said, running her hands up his biceps and over his shoulders. “You’re here right in front of me. I can touch you and explore you and look at you.”

  “And that’s what you want?” His voice was getting a little deeper.

  “Yes.” She fingered the edge of his T-shirt. “This first.”

  He chuckled. “Not my socks? You don’t have a thing for my feet?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe I do.”

  “Do you?” His dark eyes sparkled.

  She shook her finger at him. “Not your turn to ask questions.”

  Henning’s smile was full of warmth and humor. “Fine. Undress me.”

  Alya took her time, moving her hands over his wide, rounded shoulders, over the broad flat planes of his chest and down his stomach. He was muscle all over, hard, ripped muscles that flexed under her touch. His breath quickened as she moved lower. She lifted the hem of his T-shirt and found the top of his jeans. Slowly, she ran her fingers underneath the material. He drew in a sharp hiss, then gave a harsh bark of a laugh. “Does this all count as undressing?”

  “It’s the best part,” she whispered.

  Instead of pulling up his shirt, she placed her hands on his waist and slid them up, exploring, inching the material up.

  “Holy fuck,” he muttered. “Is this how you plan to take off everything I’m wearing?”

  “Hell, yes.” Alya laughed.

  He shook his head slowly. “You better have some good answers to my questions.”

  Her hands traveled higher, and when she reached his arms, he lifted them for her to ease off his shirt. She pulled it over his head and dropped it on the floor, then leaned back to take him in.

  God, was he magnificent. He seemed to be made of an entirely different substance than she was, his muscles carved and rock-solid even in their resting state. He had very little hair on his chest, just a dusting around his nipples and a dark trail down the center of his abs that disappeared into his jeans. So intimate. So sensual. Slivers of light shimmered from between the curtains, dancing up and down the sculpted muscles of Henning’s chest. Damn, this man was ripped. The level of fitness that a body like that required spoke to his determination and persistence, especially considering his job was now entirely behind a desk in the IT department. Yet he kept his body in such incredible condition that Alya couldn’t help but wonder if he was still preparing for a night that ended long ago.

  Either way he was hot. And real. The tufts of hair under his arms and down his stomach looked soft and inviting, but this was a body meant for action. Alya smiled. And no doubt he used his body for action of all kinds.

  Her gaze traveled up to his face, and she found him smiling back at her.

  “You like what you see, baby?”

  Baby. She had never liked that term of endearment before, but it sounded just right out of his mouth.

  “Yes,” she whispered, continuing her explorations back up his chest. His scars weren’t visible from the front, just a hint of them on his left shoulder was all she could see. Slowly, she moved her hands higher. Closer. She reached his shoulder and let her fingers glide to his neck, tracing his scar down.

  That’s when she felt more of them. The rise of scars along one side of his back, some long, some shorter. When she looked up at his face again, his smile had faded, and his eyes were dark.

  “When glass explodes, it’s like a spray of bullets everywhere,” said Henning quietly. “We were in a warehouse, where these crazy fuckers were cooking ice on a large scale. One of my team members and I went in first, just to take a look, to see what we were dealing with, to try to contain the danger. Thank God I held back the rest of my team because the gang leader set it off on purpose. He even killed some of his own crew, just so he could escape. I got lucky, no burns, but Sanjay, my team member, he got a piece of glass right in an artery. I stayed with him instead of following the leader, but he bled out before help came. I have these scars to remember him by.”

  A heaviness squeezed at her chest. He carried this with him every day. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She knew her comment was like putting a Band-Aid on a severed limb, but she said it anyway.

  “It was a long time ago,” he said, softer, stroking her hair.

  “Where is the guy who did this?”

  “Prison. I was off the force by the time they caught him. Probably better that way.”

  She lifted her hand and pressed it against one of the scars. He sucked in a deep breath and stiffened, as if she was causing him pain, so she pulled her hand away. But the moment she did that, the pain in his expression seemed to get worse.

  “Don’t stop,” he said, his voice heavy. “It’s just been a long time since anyone has touched me this way.”

  He took her hand and laid it over his scars again. She had so many questions, but she could see it was a painful subject for him. And this was about making him feel good. She’d ask later...whenever that was.

  His hands were back on her legs, slowly caressing, moving higher with each stroke. The pull between them was growing stronger, bringing her attention back to where this was headed.

  “Your turn again,” he said. “What makes you hot, Alya?”

  “The way you’re saying my name right now is making me hot.”

  Henning’s crooked smile broadened, but he shook his head. “Doesn’t count. I need something to work with.”

  She wrinkled her nose, searching for a good answer. “Big,” she finally said. When Henning chuckled, she added, “I’m not talking about what’s between your legs. Regular size gets the job done nicely, too.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Lots of things get the job done. We’re setting the bar higher than that.”

  “Gladly,” she said. “But I meant this.”

  She found his hand and lifted it up, matching it with hers so they mirrored each other. But it wasn’t a mirror at all. Henning’s hand outsized hers in every way. His long fingers stretched above hers, and his hand showed on both sides, so much broader.

  “It turns me on. To feel the size of your hand when you touch me. The way you touch me is...” Protective. She paused, not sure how far she wanted to go on this topic. But he had taken a risk when he talked about his scars. It was her turn. She laced her fingers with his and continued. “I’ve been wary of this appeal since Nick. It also makes me feel vulnerable.” She took another breath and let the rest come out. “I broke up with him in a restaurant, in public. I guess somewhere inside, I knew he could be dangerous. But when we got in the car afterward, he wouldn’t let me out. He just kept driving, and when we finally got to his house in the mountains, he wouldn’t take me back. He told me that I didn’t get to break up with him. I was scared, but before things took a turn for the worse, I snuck out. And I ran, straight to the police.”

  He nodded slowly. “But he wouldn’t leave you alone.”

  “Exactly. He came to my work, showed up at our door.” That part was common knowledge at Blackmore Inc.

  He was quiet for a while. “You’re worried that because you’re turned on by someone with physical power, something like that could happen again?”

  “At first I was really worried about that,” she said quietly, “but I know what happened with Nick wasn’t my fault. And I would never be with someone who intimidated me again. Now it’s more of a wariness about myself. I don’t have the best relationship track record. Is my attraction to big, powerful guys part of the problem?”

  He wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled away a little, staring at her, as if he was taking in what she had just said. Weighing it. Finally he took a deep breath.

  “I was really hot for you the day we finally met,” he said. “But I will never, ever make you feel like this is a risk. Protecting you will always come first for me, but I can see why that could make you feel wary. The momen
t you feel like this isn’t working, I’ll walk away. It’s your call.”

  His eyes were intense, and she could feel how much he meant it.

  “I wouldn’t have told you all this if I didn’t believe that, too,” she said. She moved her hands over the thick muscles of his biceps. “So I’m just going with it for now.”

  “I’m glad you are,” he said. “I’m still getting my head around the fact that this is really happening. All these things I’ve wished I was doing with you.”

  Wished. He had been thinking about this for a while...when it was his job to watch her. The question she had asked herself the day before came back to her, when he mentioned getting off to photos of her. He had had all-access permission to her feed, but when she and Stewart, her ex, had messed around in sight, it had been off-hours.

  She licked her lips. “Did you ever watch?”

  She didn’t have to say more than that. The flare of lust in his intense gaze told her he knew exactly what she was talking about.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you get yourself off when you watched?”

  His breath was sharp, harsh.

  “Right afterward.” His answer was half words, half groan. “I thought about all the ways I’d make it better for you.” He paused again. “I’m being honest with you because you should know this. And if it doesn’t feel good, we should stop.”

  She shook her head. “I thought about it, too. I wondered if you were watching.”

  “And you didn’t stop?”

  She leaned forward and whispered, “It turned me on. I wanted you to watch.”

  “Fuck,” he muttered. “You thought about me while you were fucking your boyfriend?”

  “Yes.”

  His cock was throbbing in his jeans, moving against her clit.

  She scooted back on his legs until her feet reached the floor. She took a couple steps back and then fingered the towel wrapped around her. His gaze was fixed on her hands, so she took her time as she opened it, letting one side fall. Henning’s lips parted, and he muttered something under his breath.

  “You owe me a piece of clothing.” She smiled a little. “Stand up.”

  Slowly, he rose. Her heart thumped in her chest, and her breath caught in her throat. Damn, he really was a big man. Alya laid the towel in front of her and knelt down on the floor, the bulge in his pants at eye level now. He was so close, and tension radiated from him, but he stood absolutely still.

  She reached up to find the button of his jeans and unfastened it. His breath was a harsh gasp.

  “Did you ever see me suck him off?” she whispered. A rough noise escaped from his mouth as she pulled down his zipper. “Did you think about what it would feel like to have your cock in my mouth?” A string of curses came next, and, damn, it was hot. “You want to find out?”

  “Yes,” he groaned. “Fuck, yes.”

  Alya’s heart jumped in her chest. Her body was on high alert, in tune with his every movement. This was the ultimate high, the moment when she knew this guarded, dark man let himself want. And he wanted her. Henning was staring down at her with rawness that made her come alive.

  His jeans hung on his hips, open, his cock pushing at the material of his boxers. She was so close she could smell the heavy scent of sex from him. God, this man turned her on, and she wasn’t going to worry about all the reasons why right now. She looked up at him, into this stormy darkness of his eyes, and all she could think about was the ways to make that storm ride higher.

  “I think the next piece of clothing I’ll take off is your boxers,” she said.

  “I see.” His eyes narrowed, and his smile was dark. “You like to play dirty? I’ll remember that.”

  Alya laughed. “I’m sure you will.”

  His smile faded as she slid her fingers under the top of his boxers. His cock was moving, straining against the material, but he made no effort to adjust it. What would he taste like? The cut muscles of his stomach tensed and moved every time her fingers brushed over his skin. She traced the trail of hair down his abs, to his boxers. Then, slowly, she lowered them, taking his jeans, too. Lower. His hands flexed and balled by his side, but he didn’t move to help or speed it up, just waited for her, letting her take her time.

  His boxers came lower, stretching over the enormous erection buried in his jeans, until finally it came free. His cock bobbed up, close to her mouth. She exhaled, and his whole body shuddered.

  “Okay, I’ll admit it,” she said, smiling. “I like how big your cock is.”

  His laugh was short, and he brushed his hand over her cheek. “I’ll use it to make it good for you. Really good.”

  God, she wanted to taste him right now, but this man was all about restraint. She wanted so badly to test the boundaries of that restraint. So instead she concentrated on his boxers, easing them down his legs until they were in a pile on the floor with his jeans. She nudged his feet, and he stepped out. Then Alya sat back on her heels and sized him up.

  His skin was golden bronze, a little darker on his chest and lower legs from the sun, but also around his cock. Lord, that cock. It was thick and long and hard to the point that it looked painful. He had both the disposition and the body of a warrior—stoic, ready, with those thick, well-honed muscles. It was easy to understand why the police force had its appeal, and she wondered where he channeled all that energy now. Another query for another time. If there was one.

  She pressed her hands on his legs, tracing the edges of his thigh muscles, exploring the insides with her thumbs, moving higher, getting a feel for him.

  “I’ve never taken my time with the undressing part,” she said. “Usually I just jump right in.”

  Henning let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, we’re certainly taking our time today.”

  Alya suppressed her smile of satisfaction. His voice was full of growly frustration, but still he didn’t rush her. Her hands came higher, higher, until she reached the juncture of his legs.

  “I have to ask,” she said, looking up at him. “Have you been tested recently?”

  He nodded. “I’m clean. You?”

  “Me, too. And I’m on birth control.”

  He reached out and caressed her cheek with so much tenderness. “We can still use condoms.” His voice was so low it was barely there.

  She shook her head slowly. “No condoms. I want to taste you.”

  His hand tensed as she said that, but he let it fall away immediately. “Just tell me at any time if you want to do things differently.”

  “You, too.”

  His laugh was a sexy rumble. “I’m pretty sure I’m not going to change my mind about your mouth around my bare cock.”

  His crass comment together with the undercurrent of tenderness each time he touched her was doing crazy things to her insides. Alya leaned forward and pressed her lips against one of his balls. A string of curses toppled from his mouth, so she kissed the other, using her tongue.

  “Your mouth is heaven,” he rasped. He smoothed her hair back for a better view.

  “You like watching me like this?”

  “You know I do.”

  She moved a little higher, pressing her lips against the base of his cock. A shudder ran through him as she moved higher, licking the smooth skin. Drops of precum gathered at his tip, and she flattened her tongue and licked them. He answered with a heavy groan. His taste, his scent, the softness of his tip, his sounds of arousal—each element of this experience made her hotter.

  “Did you ever get yourself off, imagining this?”

  “Fuck, yeah. Too many times to count,” he whispered. “But the real thing is so much better.”

  She licked him again from base to tip. Then she wrapped her hands around his base and took him into her mouth. He was big, really big. She tilted her head up. His expression was twisted in a silent balance between agony and
pleasure, but he made no sound.

  Alya took him in again, slowly sucking his thick cock deeper into her mouth and pulling out. She could see his hands fisted, the veins popping out of his forearms, but he didn’t touch her. Did he want to? She definitely wouldn’t mind if he showed her what he liked most. Was he gentle, or did he like it rougher? She was pretty sure she could get behind just about anything with this man. Well, almost anything. But for right now, he seemed to be leaving her to explore on her own.

  She sat back, aching from the kneeling, though she hadn’t noticed just a moment ago. She was so into this. Into him. “I want to learn more about what you like. But right now, I want you to make it good for me.”

  He helped her up, his hands gentle on her, stroking up and down her arms slowly as she stood in front of him.

  “Fuck, Alya, I want you,” he whispered, moving his hands up her shoulders, stroking her jaw. “Can you feel how much I want you?”

  She nodded. “You’re very direct,” she said with a little smile.

  His intense gaze burned into her, telling her just how badly he ached for her. He bowed his head, resting his forehead on hers. His fingers traced the line of her jaw, then moved down. His hand settled at the base of her neck, callused and possessive, though he didn’t pull her closer, just looked at her with his dark brown eyes. This was Henning, naked and wanting her, and finally, she would have him. She touched his face, too, his lips, his scars, the creases in his brow. She parted her lips, wanting him, aching for him.

  Alya lifted her hands and wove them into his hair, tugging his mouth to meet hers. His kiss started soft, surprised, but it quickly turned hungry. She pressed herself against him, skin to skin, and his fingers tightened around her neck as he took the kiss deeper. She sucked on his bottom lip and then bit down gently. His tongue stroked in and out of her mouth as he let out a deep rumble from his chest. He pulled back, a dazed look in his eyes.

  “Holy fuck,” he muttered with a laugh.

  He took a step back and sank down on the bed, and she climbed on his lap. They had sat this way before, her straddling him, but they hadn’t been naked. Now, she pressed her body against him, feeling the way her skin met his, the way his hard muscles felt as they moved against her. And the heat—there was so much heat coming off him. He settled his hands on her hips, gently stroking her, moving his palms down, over her ass and then back up again.