Frigid (Frigid, #1)

He chuckled. “This isn’t going to work if you keep squirming away from me every time I get within an inch of the glass. You’re making this worse by delaying it.”

Sounded logical, but I wasn’t a fan of logical thoughts right now. After managing to move a full foot before Kyler cornered me between him and the counter, he distracted me. “I tried using my phone to see if I could get a hold of the main lodge. You know, to ask if anyone else has been having problems with windows being shot out or psychos on snowmobiles.”

“Okay.” I obsessively stared at the top of his bowed head.

“I couldn’t get a call out. Looks like the storm is messing with cell service, too. Couldn’t even get on the damn Internet, but from what I remembered from the weather alert, we have about another day of heavy snow and then it should taper off.”

“How long do you think it will take them to clear—” There was a pinching sensation that caused me to yelp.

Kyler’s head shot up. “Sorry, but good news, baby, I got it out.” He waved the tweezers around. “See? Wasn’t too bad.”

“It wasn’t.” I smiled as he went back to studying the minor cut. His long lashes fanned down. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He grabbed the bottle of peroxide and wet a cotton ball. “It will probably take a day for them to get the highways cleared and another one to get the roads around here cleared out.”

There was a little burn as he swiped at the cut. “Three more days?”

“Probably.” He stood gracefully and put the bottle on the counter, along with a couple more cotton balls. “Let me take a look at the rest of you.”

I blanched. “I don’t have any more glass stuck in me.”

“Forgive me for thinking you might lie to avoid the tweezers.” He cocked his head to the side, and I felt my heart trip up. “I want to see the rest of it.”

But that would mean I’d have to expose my breasts, and while he’d been all friendly with them earlier, this was different. We’d been caught up in the moment. Things had been hot, and this was about as hot as an ice storm. Not to mention he hadn’t said a thing about what had happened between us. Neither had I, but I’d lost my lady balls after the window exploded.

Kyler sighed. “You have to make everything so damn difficult.”

“No, I don’t.”

He shot me a bland look and then grabbed my hips. Giving me no other choice, he lifted me up onto the counter. “There you go.”

“Bastard,” I grumbled.

He ignored that. “Let me see your chest.”

I flushed about a thousand shades of red.

“Do I need to point out the fact that I just saw your—”

“No!” I cried out, horrified. “Don’t point that out. It doesn’t make this any easier.”

His lips twitched as if he was fighting a smile. “I promise I’m going to be totally clinical about this.”

Well, that didn’t really make me feel any better either.

He held up his hands. “How about this? I treat you like you were a cat or a dog that needs to be examined?”

“What?” I scowled. “Gee. Thanks.”

Kyler laughed then. “Come on, Syd, stop being such a girl.”

“I am a girl!”

“Trust me, I know.” Before I could decipher the huskiness of his voice, his hands shot out, gripping the edges of the fluffy towel. “Let the towel go.”

“No.” I held on tighter.

“Sydney,” he growled. “Let. It. Go.”

Seeing that he wasn’t going to let it go, because he was in full wannabe-caretaker mode, I focused on his broad shoulder as I loosened my grip on the towel. The material gapped down the front.

Instead of pulling the towel off, he investigated the little nicks that were below my breasts and in the slight valley between them. Swearing under his breath, he pulled a clean washcloth out of a drawer and ran it under the water.

Coming back to where I sat, he shook his head. “You could’ve lost an eye.”

Or a nipple, but I didn’t think adding that would be helpful.

“This is going to be a little cold. Don’t want to use up the hot water.” When I nodded, he gently wiped away the blood before taking the soaked cotton ball to the cuts.

He worked quietly and diligently, tossing the used cotton balls in the trash when he was done. Then he returned to his spot in front of me. His eyes met mine for a brief second before he slid his fingers under the towel, brushing the skin of my shoulders. I shivered and quickly looked away, biting down on my lip.

This…this was about to get interesting.

Kyler didn’t say anything or seem to have moved once the towel had pooled around my hips. I kept my gaze trained on the mat in front of the kitchen sink while I felt his eyes move away from my face and down my neck, following the fast-traveling flush across my breasts. The urge to cover myself was hard to suppress, but I wanted him to look.

I wanted him to like what he saw.

Although I knew this was supposed to be clinical, the tips of my breasts puckered under his scrutiny, and the unfulfilled ache in my center thrummed to life with a vengeance. I was breathless as he picked up the cloth and leaned in.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

I think I hated him.

His chuckle was low and deep, irritating me further. “I’ll make this quick.”

“Yeah, you do that.” I squirmed, torn between being extremely turned on, angry, and uncomfortable to the max.

Kyler moved the cloth in small circles between my breasts, every pass coming closer and closer to their aching tips. My breath was increasing and now I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to know I was confused by what had gone down between us. He’d wanted me—obviously—but nothing had been spoken about it since we’d left the sunroom. Had he changed his mind once he’d cooled down?

With the next circle, the sleeve of his shirt brushed my nipple as I sucked in a sharp breath. It happened again, on the other side, and I had no idea if he was doing it on purpose.

I gripped the edge of the counter until my knuckles hurt. My pulse pounded as he shifted so that he was standing between my legs. His hand shook as he gently swept the cloth over my right breast, and then the left. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to think of something gross, but all I could think about was him touching me and how his fingers had felt.

So not good.

I’m sure I was beyond clean by the time he tossed the washcloth aside and the peroxide burn came next. Might have made me a complete and utter freak, but the little stings somehow heightened my arousal.

“Perfect,” Kyler murmured.

I looked at him and a fevered anticipation swelled like it was my own personal Christmas morning. “Perfect?”

He was staring at my chest, and then he dragged his eyes up. “Everything’s perfect.”

He set the bottle aside and then pulled the towel around my shoulders, covering me. “You’re going to be fine.”

The bubble of yearning burst in a shower of epic failure.

Kyler started to back away, his movements jerky. “I’m going to…check the garage for one of those weather radios. I think mom had one up here. And I need a tarp. Yeah, a tarp for the window.”

I stared at him.

He made it to the doorway, stopped and rubbed his palm along his jaw. “You can get a sweater now. Please put a sweater on.”

I don’t know what made the next words come out of my mouth. Maybe it was the leftover adrenaline from the window exploding, mixed in with raging hormones that had had a taste of what it would be like to be with Kyler. I honestly don’t know, but I was pissed and confused.

And God knows that’s a terrible combination, but I got my lady balls back.

“Why do you want me to put my sweater back on when you’re the one who took it off?”

Kyler lowered his arm slowly, his hand forming a loose fist. “Syd, I…I really don’t know what to say.”

Sitting on the countertop like a kid had me at a disadvantage. I hopped down, keeping the towel clenched close. “What do you mean, you don’t know what to say? I think we pretty much covered the bases earlier.”

He took a measured step forward, his shoulders tensing. “Look. This isn’t the time for this right now. I need to get the tarp. I need to figure out if someone really did shoot out the damn—”

“How are you going to figure that out? Been majoring in CSI without me knowing?”

He arched a brow. “No need to be a smart-ass.”

“And there’s no reason why we can’t talk about this now. I want—”

“I know what you want, Syd.” Anger flashed across his striking face once more. “Trust me, I totally understand. You want me to fuck you like a drunken one-night stand.”

I flinched back. That was so not what I really wanted.

“What? You don’t like the way that sounds? Well, I don’t like the way it sounds, either.” Yeah, he really was pissed. A muscle throbbed in his jaw and his eyes were a dangerous black. “I shouldn’t have let it get as far as it did, because that’s not going to happen. That’s not what we’re about. And we’re never going to be about that.”