Page 66 of Heart on Ice

“You’re home early,” he calls out, hearing me walk through the door.

“Hey, Frankston.” The golden floof jumps up and greets me warmly at the door.

“Yeah. Splitting headache,” I call out to him.

He walks into the foyer wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweats. My eyes fall on his bare chest. This is not the visual I need when I’m as highly strung as I am right now. Has he always been this muscular? Have his biceps been this huge?

“Are you okay? You look a little flushed. Are you coming down with something?” Pierre asks, sounding concerned.Yeah, a case of too hot to handle.

“Hangovers. They hit differently as adults,” I tell him, shaking the impure thoughts of him from my mind.

“Tell me about it. I think it’s going to take me a couple of days to get over those bottles last night.” He chuckles. “I’m just getting the salad ready. I can put the steaks on anytime you like.”

“I’m just going to go upstairs and have a shower,” I say, bypassing him and running up the stairs. I’ve never been this turned on before and it’s making me crazy. I quickly pull out my remote-control friend from my bedside table, and there is no need to get myself going, I’m already there. I pull up my skirt, slide my underwear to the side, shove the wand between my thighs, and turn it on. Yes. A moan falls from my lips. That’s what I needed. Yes. I can feel my legs start to quiver as the vibrations do their thing.

“Hey, Issy,” Pierre calls out.

Fuck. I throw my vibrating friend away from me moments before Frankston comes rushing in. His eyes land on my toy, and I watch in slow motion as he zeroes in on it. “No,” I yell at him, but it’s too late. He grabs the still vibrating wand and runs away with it nearly knocking over Pierre in the process.

“Did he grab something of yours?” he asks.

Shit. I chase after the golden floof. This is embarrassing. “Frankston. You little fucker give that back to me,” I curse at him. But he thinks this is hilarious as he continues to run around my home having the time of his life while I slowly die of mortification.

“Frankston, drop it,” Pierre’s booming voice commands, and Frankston does what he is told and drops my vibrating friend. It buzzes along the hardwood floors. “What the …?” Pierre picks it up and turns it off. He turns and raises a brow at me. “Were you using this just then?”

“No,” I snap, trying to grab my wand back.

Of course, Pierre thinks this is hilarious as my cheeks redden with humiliation as he holds it above his head.

“Issy.” Those hazel eyes narrow on me. Don’t know why he is upset over this. He isn’t the one whose sex toy was eaten by his dog.

“That’s none of your business,” I snap at him.

“You weren’t sick when you came home, were you?” he questions me. I splutter to find an answer for him, but it ends up dying on my lips. “Issy. Tell me. Did you come home early because you were worked up over something or someone?” My face falls. “Shit,” he says as he rakes his hand through his hair. “It’s someone.”

“Yes but …” He has no idea that someone is him.

He swallows as he tries to get a handle on his emotions. “Do I know him?”

I bite my bottom lip. “Please, I don’t want to talk about it.”

Pierre looks at me for a moment, and I see the shutters close as his hand drops and he hands me back my wand. “How do you like your steak?”

“Medium.”

He nods and walks back into the kitchen. Shit. I think I’ve hurt his feelings.

“Dinner smells great,”I say, trying to keep upbeat. The dining table is set again, there’s a breadbasket and a bowl of salad in the middle as well as some condiments.

“Take a seat, I’m plating up,” he says unable to look at me. I do as he asks and take a seat, and watch him move around the kitchen. He’s put on a T-shirt which is a shame but probably for the best. Pierre places a plate down with a thick steak on it. It smells delicious. He fusses around with some things beforesitting down. Silence falls between us as I fill my plate up with salad. “I’ve got a meeting with The Mavericks tomorrow.”

“You do. That’s fantastic,” I say, glad that he’s broken the ice.

“I’m going to start apartment hunting too. I’ve taken over your home, and that’s not fair,” he says, digging into his steak, cutting off the conversation. I do the same and let silence fall between us again. “I’ve ordered a replacement for your thing, too. Should arrive in the coming days. Sorry Frankie destroyed it.”

I let my cutlery fall with a clank. “Stop. Please,” I yell at him, throwing my napkin on the table and storming off toward the bar where I grab the bottle of tequila. I don’t even bother pouring myself a shot, I take a swig straight from the bottle.

“Issy, what the hell,” Pierre shouts as he watches in horror as I throw back another shot.

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