Page 42 of The Devil's Ice

“Because as long as I’m staying here and helping you, we’re not going to be having sex. We’re going to just be hanging out. Like, as people. As friends. We’ve never donethatbefore, so it’s a bit odd.”

Vixen felt her heart plummet into her stomach; if there was one thing that she’d discovered after Ice’s horrible words to her, it was that she had feelings for this man that went beyond friendship. But if she was just sex-on-tap when healthy, and firmly friend-zoned when hurt, then clearly she was alone in her emotional attachment.

“What’s wrong?” he said again.

And Vixen decided to just ask what she wanted to know. Things were so beyond fucked up at this point, and so out of control, and if she had to walk around with one more question mark hanging over her head, she’d lose her goddamn mind. If his interest in her didn’t go beyond the bar back rooms, fine. At least she’d know that for once and for sure.

Here we go.

“So you think we’re friends?” Vixen said. “Justfriends?”

“Honestly?”

“Yes.”

“Idon’tthink we’re friends.”

“Uh…” Unable to meet his eyes, she dropped her eyes to his broad chest, feeling more lost after the answer than she had been before, and alsowaymore hurt. “OK?”

“Hey, let me finish.”

“Go on.”

“I don’t think we’re friends.Yet,” Ice emphasized. “We sure as hell haven’t tried to be, have we? I mean… how much do wereallyknow about each other outside of what we look like naked?”

“Uh, well…” Vixen thought about it. “I mean, a bit, I guess.”

“OK, what do you know about me?”

“Hmmm.” She blinked up at him. “You’re from Montana, and your Dad’s parents were Swedish.”

“Yep. And?”

“And… and you don’t drink hard alcohol, like ever. You take your coffee black.”

“Correct. What else you got?”

“You’re a personal trainer down at The Rock gym, and you have a military background.”

“Mmm-hmmm.”

“And – well. I think that’s probably about it for what I know for sure. Anything to do with you in the MC is just a guess.” She faltered. “Like, I know that you were the club Enforcer, and I know what that means, but I don’t have any details about what thatactuallymeans.”

“Whatever you think is probably right,” Ice said crisply. “And also totally wrong.”

“I figured.” She gave him a tremulous smile. “So. What do you know aboutme?”

“OK, let’s see.” He cocked his head. “You’re not a natural blonde.”

She huffed out a laugh. “You’d know that from seeing me naked and in between waxes!”

“So it doesn’t count?”

“Nope. Try again.”

“OK.” He narrowed those incredible eyes at her. “You’re a huge Picasso fan and your dream is to go to Paris and see his stuff in person.”

“Wait,” she said, surprised. “How’d you knowthat?”

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