Page 38 of Ice, Love, & Other Penalties

He stood at the landing, shirtless, a towel slung low on his hips, showcasing every inch of his sculpted torso—muscular arms, broad shoulders, rock-hard abs with ridges I wanted to trace with my tongue.

I sucked in a breath. Frozen. My eyes drank him in greedily. That magnificent body I’d been secretly fantasizing about for days was finally bare before me.

As he descended, droplets of water still clung to his skin. I imagined tracing their path with my tongue, tasting every inch of him. The thought made my mouth go dry.

He cocked an eyebrow, his lips curving into a knowing smirk that made my knees weak. “See something you like?”

Heat flooded my cheeks. I crossed my arms tightly, feigning nonchalance. “I’m just here to grab Myra’s stuff for show-and-tell. They tried to call you but you didn’t answer.”

His smirk widened as he reached the last step, bringing him just inches from me. Being this close, his masculine scent enveloped me—sandalwood, spice, pure male temptation. I swayed unsteadily, dizzy with desire.

Get it together, Indie. I scolded myself. Actually, get out of here now before you do something reckless.

I took a subtle step back, needing space to think straight. “So, um . . . I’ll just head upstairs.”

But he moved with me, eliminating that sliver of distance in one smooth stride. His eyes blazed trails over me, hot and hungry. They dropped deliberately to my mouth before rising to meet my startled gaze in a silent question. “Eager to get out of here so fast?”

Before I could respond, he hooked a finger under my chin, tilting my face to his. My lips parted in surprise as his face hovered a breath from mine. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered.

I shivered at the desire in his tone, the challenge in his simmering gaze. And I didn’t back down. He thinks he’s the predator here, but this little lamb has teeth. I devour men like him for breakfast and never look back, I thought to myself.

His eyes smoldered. Without another word, his mouth claimed mine in a searing kiss.

His lips were firm yet gentle as they teased mine open. I sighed into him, spearing my fingers through his damp hair to pull that hard body tighter against me. We melded together in a feverish embrace, the towel between us growing maddeningly thin.

Ty kissed me deeply, thoroughly, like a starving man at a feast. My knees weakened and I clung to broad shoulders, dizzy from his taste.

When we finally broke for air, his eyes seared into mine. “I’ve wanted this since I first saw you,” he admitted roughly.

My lips curved coyly. “What took you so long?”

He chuckled low in his throat, hands framing my face with unexpected tenderness. “I’m trying to be a gentleman here, but you make it damned hard, darling.”

“Who said I want a gentleman?” I purred back boldly.

His sharp intake of breath gratified me. I reveled in the power I held over him, that I could make this strong, commanding man come undone with just a touch.

Tyberius grasped my wrist, stilling my movements. His jaw was taut with restraint. “Are you sure you can handle me, Indigo Walker?”

I sighed, taking a step back. “I could, but then you’d lose the only person who can look after your child. I’m stopping for her, because if anything happened between us, you’d never see me again.”

Turning around, I headed toward the door. When I opened it, I glanced over my shoulder. “Her show-and-tell bag is on her bed. Take it to school for me, please. I’ll see her tomorrow before you head to the game.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Indigo

“Hockey guy again, huh?” Harper guesses, jolting me from the vivid memory.

My eyes open wide, alarmed that she might see through me. “What?” I ask pretending not to understand what she’s trying to say.

She gives me a knowing look, arching her brow. “Clearly your stressful work situation involves Mr. Hot Single Dad. Did something happen with you two?”

I nervously brush the tips of my braid, debating where to even begin. Should I tell her? I never talk about the guys I fuck with my sisters. Not that there are many, also, they’re just flings and not worth my time. This though . . . Tyberius didn’t fuck me, he . . . Why did I let him kiss me?

As I debate how to respond, my traitorous fingers drift lightly to my still-tingling lips, their sensitivity heightened from the bruising kiss Ty imprinted there. I can almost feel the ghost of his mouth against mine—firm yet gentle, hungry and seeking.

Harper tracks the unconscious movement, her eyes widening. “Oh my God . . . did you two kiss?”

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