Heat it Up: Off the Ice - Book One (17 page)

Kyle doesn’t say anything as we approach the sauna, but what is there to say? “Sorry, I’m just not that into you, even though I have no problems having sex with every other woman I meet.” I yank open the door and a wave of heat hits me.

That annoying voice, the one that wants to be some twisted version of the voice of reason, reminds me that Joni is interested in me. Maybe I can hook up with him. I kick the voice in its backside. I don’t feel for Joni what I feel for Kyle. Without that passion, that desire, things won’t be any different than they were with Ian.

I sit on the top bench. Kyle sits next to me.

Most teenage boys learn about the facts of life and dating from three sources: friends (not always the most reliable source at that age, in case you’re wondering), sex education class, and parents (most notably the father). I was probably the only teen in existence who had The Talk with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk while sitting at the table with their grandmother.

I can’t remember most of what she told me, mainly because I had been understandably mortified for the majority of it. But the one thing I remember is her advice to always treat a girl right. Good thing she isn’t alive to see the kind of a man I’ve become in the past year.

I sit next to Sofia on the top bench.

What the hell am I going to do? All I want to do is kiss her senseless and burrow myself deep in her. Except she’s my friend and I don’t want to fuck that up. Not while I’m in Finland. Not while I’m having fun with her. Throw in the sex and this could all fall apart.

Shit
.

I trace mindless circles on Sofia’s thigh. Just touching her causes an electrical hum to vibrate along my nerves. Her gaze lowers to my left leg and the red scars forming a network across my thigh, the scars that I’ve managed to keep hidden until now, other than when I first met her in the sauna. But back then, she was so embarrassed that I was naked, she had avoided looking at my legs.

Some of the scars are thin, others thick. But one thing’s for certain, they weren’t from when I was a kid like I’d claimed. I can see it in her eyes; she realizes that, too. The accident I told her about, the one that causes my leg to stiffen when pushed too hard, it’s all a lie.

“I was in a car accident,” I tell her.

“And you prefer not talking about it,” she says more to herself than to me.

I run my finger along the thickest line, the surgical scar. The others are from when the side window shattered and shards of glass dug into me. Sofia finds the one that is usually hidden under my t-shirt, the one on my shoulder. She leans over and kisses it as if that will wipe away the memory. I wish it would. I wish her kisses could erase everything about that night.

I cup my hands against her cheeks and lower my head to meet her soft lips. The heat squeezes in on us but that doesn’t stop me from exploring her mouth, tasting the longing that fills me as much as it fills her. By the time we stop a few minutes later, we’re panting from the dry heat as much as from the kiss.

She grins, but it isn’t just a happy grin that tells you all is right with the world. It’s a grin lightened by mischief. “Have you tried the birch branch experience yet?” she asks.

I frown. “The what experience?” Sounds kind of painful.

She grabs a small branch covered in leaves from next to her on the bench, and dips it into the bucket of water on the floor. She then slaps the branch and leaves against her skin. “It’s supposed to bring the toxins to the surface, or something like that.”

Okay. If she says so. Looks kinky more than anything.

Kinky or not, I take it from her and whack my body like she demonstrated. I can’t say it does anything for me, but since it’s supposed to be part of the sauna experience, and I’m all for new experiences with Sofia, I do it anyway.

We stay in here for a bit longer, until I’m squirming from the heat. “True or False,” I say. “You would rather spend the next thirty minutes in here than jumping into the lake and cooling off.”

She scrambles down from the bench. I join her, and we run the short distance to the dock. I beat her, place my glasses at the edge of the dock, and jump into the lake. The fucking. Freezing. Lake. It was cold before, but after the sauna, it’s the equivalent of Antarctica.

I break the surface as Sofia leaps in. She reappears a moment later, shrieking, “Oh my God! It’s cold!”

I swim over to her and wrap my arms around her. Shit, she’s as sexy as hell with her wet hair pulled away from her face and her hard nipples pressing against the wet fabric of her bikini top. “I can warm you up.”

She shivers. “Trust me. Nothing can warm me up. I’m ready to go back in the sauna.” She squirms out of my arms and swims to the dock before hoisting herself up the slippery wooden steps. The weight of the water pulls down on her bikini bottom enough to fuel my fantasies for a month.

I follow her, grabbing my glasses from the dock on the way up, and we run back to the sauna. Fortunately compared to the water, the late afternoon air is a lot warmer. I have no idea how Finns manage this in the fall or winter. They must be crazy.

Sofia and I repeat the cycle of sitting in the sauna and jumping into the lake a few more times. We don’t make out in the sauna again. It’s too damn hot for that. But we do tell each other stories about when we were younger, while continuing our game, and share about things we have in common. Even after we’re finished with the sauna, and we’re sitting around the fire, cooking our dinner, we share about our life. Yet, I can’t bring myself to talk about the accident and how I used to play for the NHL. I don’t have any regrets about keeping the truth from her. It has nothing to do with Sofia, and I want to keep it that way, to keep our memories happy.

Sofia bites into her sausage. “Mmmm. I wish we could get these back home. I’ve been craving them since the last time I was here.”

She’s right. They are amazing. “When was the last time you were in Finland?”

“I was fifteen. It was just before my father cheated on my mom and the student went psycho bitch on him.”

“Did your mom ever remarry?”

“No, but she recently started dating someone.”

“Do you know him?”

She shakes her head. “She started dating him after I left to come here. She seems pretty happy but she didn’t want to tell me much else, in case it doesn’t work out…It just feels weird knowing she’s ready to move on.” A wistfulness sneaks into her tone.

Just like I need to move on after what happened to me. But like Sofia, I’m not sure I’m ready to yet.

I drink back some beer. At least with Sofia I don’t have the burning urge to get lost in the buzz. She does that for me. She’s like my guardian angel, sent to help give me a second chance at life. Too bad what we have between us is only for the summer.

Sofia glances at the beer and sadness washes over her face. “Are you okay?” She nods at the bottle in my hand.

“I’m fine.” I stare at the fire crackling in the pit. Its flickering warmth mirrors the same warmth in my veins from sitting so close to her. Even with the smoke drifting in our direction, I smell the occasional whiff of her apple scent. “I have no reason to get wasted tonight.” I press my lips against her temple, telling her she’s enough for me. For now.

A small smile curves on her mouth then vanishes. “Someone I once cared about let alcohol destroy him.” She places her cool hand against my face and strokes my cheek with her thumb. Her eyes lock with mine and I could get lost in her beautiful blue eyes. “I don’t want the same to happen to you.”

“It won’t,” I whisper.

The flicking light catches on her pendant. I reach out and finger the delicate silver swan.

“My parents gave it to me,” she explains. “We were visiting Santa’s Village in Lapland when we found it. Swans have always been my favorite bird. I used to want to be one.”

“Santa has a village in Lapland? I thought he lived in the North Pole.”

Sofia laughs. I fight a grin but lose out in the end and finish my sausage and beer. The wind picks up, sending the flames into a frenzied dance, and raindrops splash on our skin. We’d been so busy talking and eating, I hadn’t noticed the storm clouds sneak in.

We jump up from the thick log we’d been sitting on. Sofia grabs our food and I douse the fire with the bucket of water. Then we hurry back to the cottage as the clouds release their load. The distance isn’t far but that doesn’t matter. We’re soaked within seconds.

While Sofia changes in the bedroom, I search for something to keep us warm and for something to occupy us. By the time Sofia emerges from the bedroom, I’ve hunted down playing cards, a flashlight, plus oil and matches for the hurricane lamps.

“Your turn,” she says, wearing a skimpy tank top and shorts with cartoon puppies on them. Her breasts press against the tight fabric and her legs are endless. My dick twitches against my zipper at the sight of her.

Shit
. The beer and her outfit are making me want to rethink keeping our friendship simple.

She spreads a blanket on the couch. “I figured this would at least keep us warm.”

Compared to the fire in my blood from thinking about all the things I want to do to her, the blanket has nothing on it. And I suspect being under it with Sofia will only lead to trouble for me.

“I found some cards. We can play poker.” Except we don’t have any chips, and strip poker isn’t going to work. Not if we want to play for long. At most, she’s wearing four pieces of clothing—five if we count the blanket—and unless she’s a card shark in disguise, this game won’t last long before I have her naked.

Not a good idea.

She nibbles her lips like she did earlier. “I don’t know how to play.”

Yep, definitely not a good idea.

“Can you play Go Fish?”

She nods.

Okay, Go Fish it is.

While I fill oil in two hurricane lanterns and light them, Sofia lays out our unfinished meal on the coffee table. She then snuggles under the blanket. I go to the bedroom and change into my shorts and t-shirt.

When I come out, Sofia’s shuffling the cards. Her technique is a long way from Vegas ready. I sit next to her and shake my head at her offer to join her under the blanket.

Sofia deals the cards and we begin a heated game of Go Fish. The wind and rain battle against the windows and the roof. Thunder rumbles in the distance. Now we just have to hope the cottage stands up to whatever Mother Nature plans to hurl at us.

“Do you have eights,” she asks, not the least bit nervous about the weather.

“Go Fish.”

She makes an adorable face and pulls a card. We keep playing. Sofia wins the first five games. She might not be a card shark when it comes to poker, but damn the girl is good when it comes to Go Fish.

Growing tired of my losing streak, I remove the cards from her hands and place them on the table.

A sly smile breaks onto her face. “Does that mean I get my prize now?”

“What prize?”

“Well, I won five games. Five out of five. That means I’m the winner. So what’s my prize?” She holds her hand out to me.

I kiss the palm of her hand. But I don’t stop there. I keep moving up her arm, trailing kisses as I go.

She laughs. “Not quite what I had in mind, but it’ll do.”

It’s not what I have in mind either. I’m aiming for a much bigger prize. Something that will ensure the largest of carnival prizes shrinks back in shame. Her laugh is cut off as my mouth finds hers.

I knot my fingers in her hair and deepen the kiss. She doesn’t resist. She welcomes me in. Our tongues glide against each other and all I can think about is exploring her body even though that’s the last thing I should be doing. My free hand pushes away the blanket from her shoulder and my fingers glance down the thin straps of her tank top. She shivers at my touch.

“Are you cold?” I ask against her lips.

“No, I’m perfect,” she murmurs back.

Yes, she is.

I pull the straps of her tank top and bra down, my fingers brushing against her soft skin. I kiss her shoulder in the same spot she kissed me in the sauna, the location of my scar. I plant kisses along her shoulder, up her neck, and stop at her ear. My tongue travels along the outside of it before I nip the flesh between my teeth.

She moans and the heated sound of it is all the encouragement I need. I release her hair and skim my hand down her back. At the hem of her tank, I slide my fingers under the fabric and trace along the top of her shorts. Sofia’s breaths come in rapid bursts, barely heard above the noise of rain pelting the roof. The sky fills with a bright flash of light followed by a loud crack of thunder.

Sofia leans back against the cushions. I readjust my body so I’m lying on top of her, my arms supporting my weight. Her leg skims mine and wraps around my hips, bringing me closer to the part of her that I long to touch, taste, tease. But instead, I rock against her, my entire body cheering me on. I want her so badly, I’m positive I’m going to explode.

I push her tank top above her belly button and swirl my tongue around it. A whimper falls from Sofia’s lips and I smile inwardly at how she responds to the subtlest of moves. I continue pushing her tank top up and expose her bra. It’s light pink and it suits her. While I can tell she’s no virgin—she’s not shy in the same way she would be if she were—I can also tell she hasn’t had a lot of experience.

Sensing what I want, Sofia sits up and removes her tank top, drops it to the floor, then unhooks her bra. It quickly joins the tank top, as does my t-shirt.

Kyle’s t-shirt joins the party on the floor with my bra and tank top. But then he hesitates, as if deliberating what we’re about to do. What the heck is there to deliberate? I want this, and judging from the bulge in his shorts, he wants this, too.

He pulls away and my body screams in frustration. I’m doing something wrong. That must be it.

I shift to sit and Kyle does the same. “What’s wrong?” I ask him.

Am I doing something wrong…or…are you feeling guilty because you’re still love in your wife?