Melt (2 page)

He came around a bend in the path and saw the hulk of black
on its side up ahead, headlights staring straight into his eyes. He threw up a
hand to shield his gaze even as he steered carefully to the side of the path.
Another bundle of black lay on the snow, but this one was smaller and lower to
the ground. Panic rippled along his spine and turned into a full-blown shiver.
Dammit.

With a sharp turn of his wrist, he silenced his engine and
dismounted. His footsteps crunched as he approached the unmoving form, and his
heartbeat thudded dully in his ears. He wouldn’t freak out. He’d come across
downed riders on the trail before, and none of them had been seriously hurt.
She wouldn’t be either.

Tufts of pale blonde hair stuck out from underneath her knit
cap, and the tangled strands draped over the shoulders of her puffy coat. Her
puffy
pink
coat. As silly as it was,
he’d hoped until that moment he’d come upon someone else. Anything so she
wouldn’t be lying motionless on the ground.

He rushed forward and knelt in the snow, barely aware of the
wet seeping into the knees of his jeans. Right then, he could only see her. He
turned her face toward him gently as he clutched her bare hand in his. She was
so cold. So small and still. “Kylie,” he whispered. “Can you hear me, baby?”

She didn’t answer for so long that he started to fumble his
cell phone out of his jacket. He couldn’t wait. Time was of the essence. If she
was seriously hurt—

She groaned and rolled awkwardly onto her back. “Justin? You
found me.”

Relief crashed over him in a swift, knee-weakening wave. Her
eyes hadn’t opened yet, but she knew his voice. “Yes, it’s me. Yeah, I did.
Luck. I just got lucky.” The rawness of his tone as he bent forward to kiss her
cheek would have stunned him if worry hadn’t crowded every other thought out of
his mind. “Sweetheart, I’m going to get you help.” He stuck his fingers in his
mouth and yanked off his glove so he could dial his phone. If only his fucking
hand would stop shaking. “Okay?”

“No.” She shifted restlessly, kicking her leg out hard
enough to nearly topple him on to his side. “I’m okay. Just dizzy. Turned too
fast. Protected my…head.” She moaned and clawed her bare hand through the snow
beside her hip. “F-freezing. Help me up.”

He stared at her as she forced herself onto her elbows,
though her eyes had yet to open. Thanks to the backwash from her headlights, he
could see the shadow of a bruise darkening her cheek. One of many, he was sure.
“Kylie, you could have a concussion. Or internal injuries.”

“Didn’t hit my head. Hold up your fucking fingers. I’ll
count them.” With a furious exhale, she opened her eyes to glare at him. He
couldn’t see her expression clearly, but impatience leaked from her lithe,
vibrating body. “Well?” she demanded when he gazed at her stupidly.

Goddamn, she was so beautiful. Flakes clung to her cheeks and
melted on her lips. She could be injured, perhaps badly, and all he could do
was look at her as if he’d never seen a damned female before.

His cock came to life at the same instant as his mind threw
up the one protest capable of shutting down his libido. Other than the
possibility she could be seriously injured, that is, which was more than
weighty enough. But
persisto
-cock persevered.

She probably makes
love to her man every night. She’s happy. She’s fucking taken, got it?

No, he didn’t get it, because the fingers of the hand he’d
gripped didn’t have any rings. Her commitment ring was gone.

“Justin?”

He set down his phone on his thigh and held up three
fingers. Her health was what mattered now, not her availability. “How many?”

“Three,” she said, her voice almost smug. To his
astonishment, she stumbled to her feet, though he had to jump up and steady her
when she swayed. “See? I’m fine. A little wobbly, maybe, but with a hot bath
and some rest, I’ll be good as—”

Her eyes closed again as he clamped his hands on her waist
and brought her shivering body close to his, impressive hard-on aside. Shoot,
even the cold didn’t seem to affect the damn thing. But she’d certainly been
around guys with hard dicks before, and she was shaking so fiercely he was
afraid she’d lose her balance.

“Whoa, dizzy.” She wet her lips. “So maybe I’m not fine.”

“Maybe not.” He glanced down at his phone lying in the snow,
but made no move to reach for it. No way was he letting her go. “You should see
a doctor.”

“No, I’ll be all right. I’ve hurt myself worse falling off a
ladder.” She looked down pointedly between their bodies. “Besides, you’re
hurting too, aren’t you?”

So much for avoiding erection detection. That he’d cuddled
her against him hadn’t exactly helped on that score.

He started to deny it. He wasn’t that guy. Sex ranked pretty
high on his list of priorities, but he’d never be so crass as to put his
wants—his extremely inappropriate wants—above his friend’s safety. “I should
get you home,” he said instead, only half-aware of his fingers digging into the
soft, fleecy material of her pants. “If you refuse to seek medical attention,
your boyfriend”—he almost choked on the word—“can take of you. I’m sure he’s
worried.”

She let out a sound caught between a laugh and a hiss. “I
really fucking doubt it.” Her gaze rose to his. “What about you? Can you take
care of me?”

Before he could come up with an answer, she fisted her hands
in the lapels of his jacket and jerked his mouth down to hers.

He didn’t react for a moment. Two. Hard to move away when
what he hadn’t dared to want had come to him. Finally. Her lips were inferno
hot, backed by enough purpose to have his rock-hard cock leaping. Before her
tongue could slip into his mouth and rip away the last shred of his defenses,
he gripped her shoulders and gently drew her back. “You must want Rob right
now. Let me call him.”

“No.” Her blue eyes gleamed defiantly in the crisscrossing
spill of light from their snowmobiles. “I don’t want Rob, Justin.”

What could he say? He wanted to lay her in the snow and pull
down her fleecy pants to see if the rest of her was as soft and needy as her
mouth. But he couldn’t. She was hurt, and they were standing around talking in
the middle of a snowstorm when she needed medical attention.

“C’mon,” he said after a pause. He slipped the glove out of
his pocket and put it on her bare, shaking hand. “Let’s get you looked at.”

* * * *

Kylie whimpered and rolled onto her side, pushing her face
down into the nubby material beneath her cheek. The fabric smelled faintly of
detergent and strongly of his spicy soap. Yum. She burrowed into the pillow and
drew her knees up to her chest, trying to ignore the pain slicing through her
ankle. All she wanted to do was sleep. If she could drift back into the dark,
she wouldn’t hurt anymore. She wouldn’t be alone, and today would never have
happened.

“Sit up.” Justin’s gentle voice sounded near her ear, and
his warm breath tickled her neck. A strong hip pressed against her backside a
moment before she felt a cool glass bump her lips. “Time for more medicine.”

She didn’t protest as he urged her halfway into a sitting
position. Eagerly, she sipped the potent liquid, already craving the burn that
sped through her system. His hand cupped the back of her head, his broad,
calloused palm steady and supportive.

He’d made her go to the ER anyway, which had turned out to
be a smart idea. She’d twisted her ankle and had a multitude of contusions, but
she didn’t have a concussion. They’d been ready to give her a prescription when
she informed them she was allergic to most OTCs and painkillers, which left her
with only one thing to use to numb the pain—alcohol.

“You know I don’t drink,” she said between gulps. Already
the artificial warmth was chasing away the cold.

“You do tonight.”

She couldn’t argue with that logic.

Finally, she nudged the glass away. She licked her lips to
catch every stray droplet of brandy and sank back against the pillow. Even
narrowing her eyes to study Justin took a lot of effort. But she didn’t need to
see the details to know exactly how he looked. God knows, he sat across from
her at the bar often enough. Spiky brown hair, streaked with blond, intense
cobalt-blue eyes. The cutest little worry lines fanning out from those eyes,
though she’d never once seen him upset. And oh, his mouth. Now that was a mouth
made for long kisses.

His body worked for her too. He was tall, rangy. Nice
shoulders, even nicer ass.
Incredible
ass. She blew out a breath that ruffled her bangs. She should probably feel guilty
for noticing so much about Justin, but she didn’t. Especially after tonight.

Once upon a time, she’d done more than notice him. They’d
been friends, then lovers, then back to friends until they’d drifted apart.
When he’d walked into her bar years later, she’d been shocked. Rough and Ready
wasn’t far from the college they’d attended, just a couple of towns over, but
still.

Fate was a quirky bitch. She had to be. Because what were
the chances she’d start to fall for a guy she’d missed the boat with years ago?
A boat she hadn’t wanted to take a cruise on at the time for a lot of reasons.

But that was then. Now? A guy who offered a pleasant,
low-intensity ride between the sheets fit her needs perfectly.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” she asked, hoping her face
didn’t transmit her thoughts. He was great at reading expressions. Part and
parcel of his job as a high school guidance counselor.

His lips twisted slightly. Normally he smiled so easily, one
of the things she loved about him. She’d been around one too many men who
didn’t know how to laugh, and that Justin did was refreshing. But tonight he’d
been so serious. So focused.

On her.

Her belly fluttered. Justin Norton was one fine piece of man
chocolate. Maybe she’d been wrong to appreciate his body while she’d been
coupled up, but now that she was single, she couldn’t see any reason not to go
for it. He wasn’t oblivious to her either. From their all too brief clinch on
the trail, certain parts of him seemed interested, even if the rest had yet to
follow suit.

Yep, just what she loved from a guy—mixed signals.

“You seem to have the alcohol tolerance of six sailors, so
no. Though I have to admit I like seeing your eyes blurry with something other
than pain.”

“I’m okay.” Dwelling on what couldn’t be helped wasn’t her
style. She dealt and moved on. Always had, always would. “Did your neighbor go
back and pick up my snowmobile?”

“Yeah. It’s out back. Mostly scratch-free. If you wanted to
learn,
I’d’ve
been happy to give you some lessons.”

Figured he’d teach her how to snowmobile, but he wouldn’t
kiss her. She didn’t give a hoot about snowmobiling. What she needed tonight
was a carnal distraction. Somehow she had to burn the image of what she’d seen
at Rob’s out of her mind.

“I hadn’t planned on taking it out. It was an anniversary
present. I’d never been that excited about learning, but Rob thought we’d have
fun.” She stopped. Enough about Rob. Enough about the accident. She’d escaped
with nothing but bruises, so she’d just count her lucky stars and move on.

His thumb worried her painful cheekbone. She couldn’t hold
back the wince. “Hurts, huh?”

She shrugged off the question. Her body ached, but luckily
the soreness had started to lessen. Excellent brandy, a soft, sunken couch, and
the warmth of the crackling fireplace across the room had gone a long way
toward healing her. As had the attention of the man sitting beside her
outstretched legs.

“Why didn’t you kiss me back?”

“That again.” He tapped her lips. “You’re like a dog with a
bone. Every time you wake up, same damn question.”

“It’s a good question. I’m a decent kisser. Not that you’d
know.”

“Hello, we kissed several times.” His grin heated her skin.
“And other things.”

“True enough. So did you forget to tell me you’re not into
women?”

He cocked a brow. “Hardly. I think you felt just how…into
you I was.”

That she had. “So? What’s the problem? Are you seeing
someone? Someone you’ve conveniently forgotten to mention to me?” She punched
his arm playfully, as she always did when he sat across her bar. She’d worked
at Rough and Ready for close to five years and considered the place home. More
of a home than anywhere else, actually, especially now that she’d been left
effectively homeless.

Your choice. You
could’ve played Rob’s games. You have before.

She winced again as she imagined the scene she’d witnessed
that evening. No fucking way.

Justin laid his hand on her thigh. Even with the layers of
cotton between their skin, his heat branded her flesh. “Friends don’t kiss. Not
with tongue.”

His came out to rub at the dip in his lower lip she’d
imagined nibbling more than once. She thought she saw a flash of silver in his
mouth, then dismissed it. Her thing for him, for lack of a better word, had
proven to be as persistent as a sunrise, despite her efforts to pretend
otherwise. He’d never given her any reason to think he felt similarly—at least
during the current incarnation of their friendship—but that hadn’t shut down
the fantasy machine where he was concerned. Which was crazy. She knew what
she’d get with Justin. Decent sex. He was decent, all the way around. Good,
built to last, but not outstanding.

Except he had so much more to him than the sum of those
particular parts.

Justin knew how to make her laugh on her roughest days.
Always had. He loved sports, college basketball in particular, and always
brought her a card for every holiday. Along with being an excellent
conversationalist, he was a wonderful listener.

He was just plain
nice
,
as proven by the fact he hadn’t berated her for taking out the snowmobile when
she hadn’t had a clue what she was doing. Bottom line, she really liked him. A
lot. As for his body…well, she had no complaints. If she’d hoped way back when
that he’d do a little more with what he’d been given, that was a small flaw.
And besides, who was good at sex in college anyway? Even if it wasn’t usually
her flavor preference, after Rob, vanilla sex sounded perfect.