Ignite Me, Ice Captain

Playing With Fire

She zipped up her jeans, grabbed her shirt from the floor, slipped it on, grabbed her bag, and quickly maneuvered through the small gap in the barricade. She buttoned the shirt as she followed him.

“You’re an insufferable asshole, you know that?” she sneered when she’d caught up to him.

“Think about the worst that could’ve happened and be thankful I stepped in, doc.”

He opened a door and motioned for her to go inside.

“This is your room for the night.”

“My room? Why?” She trailed after him as he moved through the space and opened another door, revealing a washroom. “What makes you think I’m staying over?”

“Because I know you wouldn’t survive what my boys were ready to dish out. I saw the fear in your eyes when they closed in, baby. Whatever you think you can handle, trust me—what they have in mind will leave you unable to stand, let alone walk. I might be an asshole, but I pay my debts. You helped get me back on my feet—so let me return the favour by keeping you safe.”

“This is pointless. I should’ve just turned around and walked out. I’m leaving. If I have to make the trip back tomorrow, so be it—I will do it.”

“Cool. You can see yourself out.”

She scrambled mentally, hunting for the right words to ask him to walk her to her car without sounding as if she was begging.

“When does the party end?”

He chortled. “Go ask them. I’ve got zero interest in whatever the hell they’re up to. But that party kicked off last night and it’s nowhere near over, that much I can tell you. And trust me, the real filth hasn’t even started. If they've mentioned strippers, then they're bound to grace the occasion. Sweetheart, unless you’re keen on landing yourself in the middle of an orgy, you’d better stay right here. If you get caught up in their mess again, let me lay it out straight—I’m not dragging myself out of bed to save your ass this time.”

She heaved a shaky sigh, eyes flashing, fists balling. “You knew our appointment was today, but of course, your party just couldn’t wait, could it? How convenient to trap me here like this. Was that your master plan all along when you pushed for house calls? God, must everything be a joke to you.”

“Sweetheart.”

He spanned on her so sharply it made her stumble back, her legs bumping the edge of the queen-sized bed. The cane — that ridiculous prop he’d used to sell the story he required limping to move about — was tossed onto the mattress like it offended him. If he took another step toward her, she would be falling like the cane.

An angry light flashed in his eyes.

“If I’m the one running the show, why the hell would I be up here?” He gestured around in irritation. “Those guys will jump at any excuse to party. This one’s about me getting discharged—so here they are, invited or not. And they’ll leave whenever the hell they feel like it... not unless I call the cops. Didn’t you see my missed calls last night? What did you think I was calling about?”

She had ignored the calls, pretty sure nothing urgent had cropped up in the less-than-twenty-four-hours since his discharge—other than him trying to wind her up one more time.

Her stance softened a bit with the realization that she was partly to blame for her predicament. She tried to wobble out of the trap between him and the bed. “Where’s your rehab room?”

“I left noise-canceling headphones in the drawer for you,” he said casually. “For when you can’t stand the noise. Follow me.”

They walked into the next room, which looked like his.

Before she could raise an objection, he explained, “My training room is downstairs where they are.”

Though her upbringing had drilled some old-school propriety into her, making her keenly aware she was in a man’s bedroom, she figured it would have mild impact on the day’s session. They were simply continuing with bodyweight squats—perhaps adding some weight if he could handle it.

He managed to do longer squats, going lower with 15lbs in each hand. He powered through four sets of fifteen reps, taking seven minutes to finish. Afterward, she gave his knee a quick check to make sure it wasn’t swelling up in protest. He was raring up to go after his fifteen-minute break, so they jumped into step-ups and wrapped things up with some glute bridges.

“So, what are you gonna do while you are here?”

She shrugged. Other than staying locked in a room and turning on her favorite playlist, what else was there? She poured a little more oil into her hands and started working in slow, circular motions around his kneecap.

He sank deeper into the pillows with a satisfied sigh as she kept at it.

“Do you have Wi-Fi?”

His eyes slowly blinked open. Damn, they were so blue—like summer skies, wildflowers, and all the things that made a girl forget her common sense. Maybe that dirty blond hair really was natural. It made a knee-curling combo with those eyes.

“Wi-Fi doesn’t come for free, sweetheart,” he murmured.

Knowing he was just messing with her, she played along, widening her eyes in mock horror. “Seriously? How cheap are you?”

“Cheap enough to fantasize about taking my smoking-hot doctor for a long, slow ride.”

His voice was smooth as sin, clinging around her like silk—tempting, dangerous. Painfully direct. He wanted to f**k her. Plain and simple. No flowery words, no sugarcoating. Just raw honesty she appreciated so much. She wished Roy had been half as upfront instead of leading her down a naive path where love was nothing more than a trap waiting to spring after a man has had his gratification.

Had she thought about banging her patient? This particular six-foot-two, god-tier specimen with a body carved straight out of temptation—one she was dying to run her hands over under the perfect excuse of a massage—and a face that had her feminine juices flowing?

She had a very professional answer to that. Ever since Cassie made a damn good case for him being the best way to shut her mom up about that ridiculous arranged marriage with the snot-nosed doctor, she’d made sure to draw enough blood to run every single STD test known to man. And when they all came back clean, she and God had a real moment of gratitude.

Sex with no strings attached—just the kind of appalling recklessness that would have her stripped of her Calloway status in no time, she and her mistake, if she got lucky to make one with Pierce.

But she was playing with fire, toying with the idea of making the man an unwitting sperm donor, and she knew it. Logan Pierce might seem like just another stereotypical guy—harmless on the surface—but he was a stereotype with a fierce legal backing, poised on getting him what he snapped his finger for, and a knack for revealing complexities beneath that killer body that sometimes hinted at more than one personality lurking within. She wondered if she could handle the heat of the flames.

“I’m a guest here in your house. Find a way to get me that Wi-Fi. I need to stream some movies when I’m bored.”

No sooner had she spoken than he yanked her down on top of him. The move blindsided her, bringing her oiled hands smacking against his chest. They slid off the smooth, hard muscle and sent her sprawling across him.

“Terms and conditions apply,” he murmured. “Do you sign on it?”

She rolled her eyes—not the smartest thing to do when she was lying across a big, cocky win-at-all-cost jock who had his hand firmly gripping her ass.

She felt his lips hot and demanding against her neck, and it instantly unraveled her, turning her into a puddle of heat. Her head instinctively tilted to meet those lips she’d been craving on hers. Again, common sense advised her to cease waddling further.