Page 53 of Break The Ice

“Kit, you’re awesome. You are stronger than you know. They don’t want you to be anyone but you.”

Kit shakes his head and reaches for his phone. He opens up a voicemail and plays it.

“What the fuck did you go to the game for? You embarrassed them both. You should have stayed away.”

I sit up, glaring at the phone like it’s a snake. “Who is that?”

The vile man continues to spew insults.

“Callan’s dad.”

I swallow hard. “That’s Callan’s dad?”

“Yeah.”

“Does Callan know?”

“Of course not. I would never tell him his dad calls me to say this shit to me. Callan loves his dad. He keeps hoping that he will come round.”

“You need to tell him.”

Kit looks haunted. “No. I don’t think that’s a good idea at all.”

Does anyone in this pack communicate? I realise I’ve been stroking his chest, but I don’t stop.

“What are you afraid of?”

“I’m scared he will wake up one morning and realise that I’m not worth all the pain and sacrifice.”

“Dammit, Kit, you aren’t a damn sacrifice. And you don’t cause pain. Raider is so proud of you. So is Callan.”

Kit scoffs and rolls to his hands and knees. “We aren’t drunk enough. Let’s get more drunk and play twister.”

He sits on the couch, but I take the bottle and straddle him, drinking a bit while his hands find my hips.

“Kit?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“Uh huh.”

“Do you want to know something?”

“What?”

“I want to kiss you, too. I have since I first saw you. You are gorgeous.”

Kit’s eyes flutter closed, and I lean forward, pressing the softest kiss to his eyelid.

“You are beautiful and strong and every inch the equal of Raider, Wren, and Callan.”

He scoffs, but I take the opportunity of his parted lips to kiss him, dipping my tongue into his mouth. He’s frozen for a moment, and then he responds, his fingers tightening, his lips softening, moving against mine.

I intended it to be a quick kiss, but we kiss for a long time. Until my lips feel swollen and sore. Until I’m a wet, throbbing, wanton mess, desperate for the addictive taste of him. Desperate for the feel of his fingers roaming and pulling me closer, pressing into my skin.

My t-shirt is long gone, and I’m sitting in a bra, but there’s no attempt to go further. This is just making out.

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