Page 10 of Melting the Ice

“So is peace,” he muttered.

“Go grab a beer or something. It’s almost done.” I turned back to check on the chicken and steak, pulling the pan off the heat at just the right moment.

We filled our plates, and I poured myself a glass of pink lemonade before setting it down on the island. “Want some?”

He quirked. “I see your favorite drink hasn’t changed.”

“Well, duh, because it’s delicious. Sweet and tangy, just like me.”

He chuckled, and I was back to clenching my thighs. Dammit. This man needed to come with a warning label.

“I’ll take water.”

“Boring,” I drew out. I reached to grab a glass and bumped into him as he moved to grab it himself.

“Oof.” The breath left my body as my mouth stopped close to his throat, and then his hand landed on my hip.

A shudder rolled through me, and I swore he sucked in a deep breath while his fingers squeezed my hip, not letting go.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yep, yep. Just fine. Yeah, grab a glass. I hope you like dinner,” I rambled out, still in his hold.

And then his hand was gone, and he stepped away from me.

The only thing I could hear were the sounds of my breath and water from the fridge filling his glass.

What would he do if I kissed him again?

Chapter 3

MICAH

Fuck my life.

Fuck my whole damn life.

I calmed my rattled breathing as the water filled my glass. I was on fucking edge, and now I had to sit down and eat dinner with her when all I wanted to do was give in to my craving to taste her again.

Touching her was a mistake, but it wasn’t like I’d planned that. I was out of sorts as soon as I’d walked into my condo and saw her standing there with that brilliant smile on her face and the mess in my kitchen surrounding her. I wanted to clean it up and also kiss her and…

Fuuuuuuccckkk.

She’d been here less than twenty-four hours, and I was losing my damn mind.

“Are you okay?” Her voice cut through my mental scolding, and then water was dripping over my hand.

“Shit.” I pulled the glass back from the dispenser, spilling water on the floor. “Shit.”

“Hard day at practice?” she asked, and my head shot up, meeting her hazel gaze. There was no smirk, but my brain was misfiring.

“Uh, yeah. Grueling practice as usual. Gotta be ready for the game tomorrow night,” I said, setting my glass down and grabbing a towel to wipe up the mess. “So, what’s for dinner?”

I could do this. Be calm and rational, and don’t think about how her shirt was just a little too thin and stretched gloriously across her boobs.

Yep. Totally rational.

“I made garlic and herb marinated chicken and steak. Gotta get that protein in so you’re ready for the game. And we have roasted sweet potato fries and veggies with a garlic aioli dipping sauce. And crispy-edged oatmeal chocolate chunk cookies for dessert.”

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