Page 27 of On the Edge of Scandal

That’s when I notice cold water seeping into my sleeve from where it’s leaked out from the ice pack resting on her hip. Hmm. That has potential.

I’m used to thinking of ice as a work surface. A thing that helps me get things done. A platform for the thing I love. It’s not so much a tool as a stage. But now? It’s not a whole rink, it’s just some small pieces, and Bronwyn and I both have a healthy respect for what ice can do to a person.

I reach over and tear the bag carefully. The hole’s not big, but big enough to fish out a piece of ice from the frigid water. Bonus, I also get to use that as part of our little game. “You need to be still so you don’t get the bed all wet. No more squirming.”

She flushes at my admonition, and I can see her abs tighten. Beautiful.

The ice is cold on my fingers, too cold, so I do what anyone with a deliciously naked woman in front of them would do. I pop it into my mouth and before it can melt entirely, I start kissing and licking her hipbone that’s not covered with the ice pack.

She jerks. I tut at her as some of the cold water sloshes out of the open bag, and her fingers get even tighter in the covers. When the ice has melted in my mouth, I fish out another piece, and run it directly over her skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. Around her navel, over her abdominals, the sharp cut of her hipbone, and along the border of her pubic hair.

Bronwyn is breathing heavily, making these mewling sounds that send blood pulsing straight to my dick. As if I needed to want her worse than I do already. After a few more go-rounds, my fingers are freezing, Bronwyn is twitching under my touch, and outright begging.

“Please, Ash, please touch me.”

“I am touching you.”

“No, you’re using the ice to touch me. It’s not the same. Touch me, please. I want your mouth again.”

Demanding woman. I’m of half a mind not to give it to her, to make her wait, and wait, and wait. But my fingers are about to freeze off, which is when I get an idea of how to warm them right up.

With no warning, I press them inside her. The heat of her burns me, feeling like I’ve put my fingers in a pot of boiling water instead of sliding them inside of her. Also, a pot of water wouldn’t gasp and buck, sending more water spilling onto the mattress. Good thing there’s another bed in here, because I think we’re going to need it.

I don’t stop, though, just keep rocking my fingers into her until they thaw, and she’s pushing back, trying to get more of me. I use my other hand to grab yet another ice cube out of the bag that’s mostly cold water now, and pop it into my mouth, before lowering my head and giving my baby what she’s asked for.

The moment my cold mouth makes contact with her clit, she squeaks a curse, and it’s the cutest thing ever. I’ll have to figure out more ways to make her do that again, and again, and again. But for now, I’ll concentrate my efforts on giving her that mind-blowing orgasm I’ve promised.

Tongue, teeth, fingers, lips, ice, I use them all to pleasure and torment her until her thighs are pressed to the sides of my head, and she’s wound so tight I think she might shatter. That’s what I want. My Bronwyn in a million pieces I’ll sweep up and hold in my arms until she’s whole again. Give her a safe place to rest so she can put herself back together.

With a last worry of my teeth over that sensitive bundle of nerves, she’s crying out my name. Also a lot of swear words, which I will take as a compliment. Besides, I can barely hear them, muffled as her voice is from my ears being covered with her powerful legs. I hope the tension isn’t putting too much strain on her hip, but I don’t think it’s going to last long.

As if to prove my point, she rocks up against my mouth a few more times. I can feel the pulse of her climax around my fingers and then her thighs fall apart, letting in the world that isn’t her. I’d much rather be trapped between Bronwyn’s legs than basically anywhere else, but now that I’ve brought her off, it’s time for the next part of my plan.

Her eyes are closed, and she’s mumbling softly, incoherently, her fingers searching in the sheets for I’m not sure what, but I’m hoping it’s me. I hush her, rubbing my hands all the way from her ankles up her thighs, and finally taking the ice off her hip, depositing the bag on the floor, careful not to make a giant puddle by letting it spill.

The pillows I remove carefully, keeping one arm under her sacrum so she isn’t jarred by the drop of her hips. I have to grit my own teeth as I use a foot on the floor for leverage, but it’s over soon and then I’m lying beside her, gathering her into my arms and she’s rolling to her side to clutch me, holding on tight and saying my name over and over and over again.

It’s like she can’t get enough of her body close enough to enough of mine, and while I appreciate the sentiment, because I love the feel of her, too, it’s starting to worry me. Did I go too far? In my efforts to keep her safe, have I failed? Hurt her in some way I didn’t see coming? I meant to take her out at the knees so she’d have to give in but maybe when she hit the ground, she lost her breath.

She’s not angry, though, at least not at the moment, so I give her what she’s asking for, holding her as close as possible, wrapping my body around her as best I can, and telling her over and over, “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

I hope she can’t feel how my heart is racing—don’t want to give her something to worry about—but I need something from her. A sign that she’s okay somehow, which is when I get it. She laughs. It’s choked and breathy, but there it is and it loosens the tension that had ratcheted up in my body.

“Holy fuck, Ash. That was amazing. You weren’t kidding. I can’t . . . You’ve . . . I’m . . .”

“A little fuck-stupid?” I offer, and she laughs like a hyena.

“Yes, fuck-stupid, that’s exactly it. I can’t . . .”

“Form full sentences?” Oh, this is fun. And the best compliment about my sexual prowess I’ve ever gotten. To reduce this brick wall of a woman to rubble. Now I just need to make sure to build her back up again before tomorrow.

She punches me as well as she can, which isn’t very well in this position, and then snuggles against me. “Don’t be a jerk.”

“Okay, okay, I won’t tease anymore.” I’ll just lay here with a big, stupid smile on my face for having accomplished what I set out to do beyond my wildest imaginings.

Bronwyn does, in fact, fall asleep in my arms and I relish it, carefully pulling a blanket over us—okay, mostly her. I’m not the one who doesn’t have any pants on. Unfortunately, it’s not so long until my phone buzzes with a reminder that I’ve got to suit up for an interview I don’t really want to do. It’s Carla fromHour 25,and she likes to flirt with me in a harmless way.

Still, it’s hard to drag myself out of bed, leaving a satiated and sleepy Bronwyn behind. While I’m up and rummaging in my drawers, I toss my Halpern jersey on the bed so she’ll have it when she inevitably gets cold from not being able to siphon off my body heat anymore. I leave her a note on the bedside table to tell her where I’m going and that I won’t be gone long. I’d love it if she were still here when I return.

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