The Definition of Icing: A Dallas Demons Hockey Romance (Dallas Demons Series) (17 page)

Chapter 24

Changing on the fly: Changing players while play is going on — Nate

“Mr. Johansson,” I say flirtatiously as I lightly rap on the bathroom door, “this is your chocolate concierge. Are you ready for your services this evening?”

“Do they include making love to a sexy blond?” Nate flirts back. “Because that is the treatment I desire most tonight.”

I smile happily. “Perhaps we can add that on to your treatments tonight
if
you find the evening to be to your liking, Sir.”

Nate opens the door. He’s wearing the white spa robe I’ve provided him, and my pulse flickers the second I see him.

“I already know the evening will be to my liking,” Nate says sexily, his eyes moving over me.

I’m standing before him in another short, silk kimono robe, but this time, I’m not using it as a fashion piece. Right now, I’m using it to cover up the mocha-colored lace and silk bra and thong I have on.

I step into the marble bathroom, carrying a tray filled with my supplies for the evening. I set it on the spacious countertop and pick up a bottle of cognac.

“While tonight includes testing chocolate body paint and ending with a chocolate coconut bath, I thought we’d start with a cognac and chocolate pairing,” I say, pouring the amber liquid into two glasses. “This is a Hine Antique XO Cognac, from France.”

I put the bottle down and hand a snifter to Nate, who instantly wraps his hand around mine over the glass. Heat sears through me from that simple touch.

“Tell me why you chose this one,” he says, gazing at me through his long eyelashes.

“It’s very complex,” I say. “Swirl the cognac and inhale it.”

I remove my hand from the glass, and Nate does as he is told.

“Close your eyes.”

As soon as his eyes are closed, I explain what he is detecting through his senses.

“As you inhale this cognac, you will come across many notes. Vanilla and honey. Baked apple. But there’s also spice. Licorice. And finally, a hint of chocolate,” I say. “All of which will create a long-lasting experience on your palate. Now take a sip.”

Nate lifts the glass to his lips and slowly takes a sip of the amber liquid.

“Keep your eyes closed, and tell me what you think,” I say.

“Very complex,” Nate says. “And lingering.”

“Good,” I say, taking the glass from his hand and placing it on the marble vanity.

Nate opens his eyes and reaches out for me, his hands finding my hips, and draws me to him. “I think you need to experience cognac in a new way,” he says sexily. “From my lips to yours.”

Then Nate closes his mouth over mine in a slow, steamy kiss. I taste the cognac on his tongue and my body floods with heat in response. I savor the rich flavor of the amber liquid, I feel his stubble scratching against my skin, I inhale his cologne wrapping around me. Oh, this is hot. Sensual. I don’t want this kiss to end.

“What’s next?” Nate murmurs against my lips.

Can I remember what’s next after a sexy kiss like that?

“I’m going to feed you chocolate,” I say, kissing him again, “and you’ll see how the chocolate experience is enhanced by the cognac on your palate.”

I reach for a piece of luxury dark chocolate. “Close your eyes again.”

Nate does as he’s told, his hands still on my hips, his thumb tracing over my hipbone back and forth in a slow, torturous way that makes a shiver whip down my spine.

I reach for that hand and bring it to the chocolate. “Feel it. Tell me what it feels like. Use touch as part of the experience.”

Nate brushes his fingers over the piece of chocolate. “Smooth. Very smooth.”

“Good,” I say. “Now inhale the scent of the chocolate.”

Nate lifts the chocolate to smell it.

Then I take the chocolate from him, my fingertips grazing his lips. “Take a bite,” I say softly, “and you should hear a
snap
. This indicates a well-tempered chocolate.”

Nate bites the piece in half, and I tease him by letting my fingers linger on his lips before removing the other half of the chocolate. His chest rises in response, and then I draw my hand back.

“Now let the chocolate melt in your mouth,” I say. “Feel how
rich
it is with your tongue. What flavor do you detect? Now you can complete your tasting, and tell me what you experienced.”

Nate swallows the chocolate, and his eyes flicker open. “I can’t tell you anything about it.”

“You didn’t experience
anything?
” I ask, shocked. “The rich dark taste? The silkiness of the chocolate? The scent of the Madagascar vanilla?”

“Oh, that? Yes,” Nate says, putting his hands back on me, sliding up my ribcage. “But all I could sensory explore was
you.
How gorgeous you
look
tonight, with your hair cascading down over this sexy little silk robe. How passionate and intelligent you
sound
when talking about chocolate and how fucking turned on I am by that. When I was supposed to inhale chocolate, all I could
smell
was this beach perfume that lingers in your hair and on the base of your throat. When I was supposed to be letting chocolate
melt
on my palate, I ached to be melting into
you.
When I was told to taste the chocolate, I wanted to taste your
lips
with mine. And now I want to make love to you.”

Nate claims my mouth with his, walking me backward out of the bathroom with intense kisses burning against my lips.

“What . . . about . . . body paint?” I manage to get out.

“I’m changing on the fly,” Nate says quickly, his hands tangling in my hair as he directs me to his bedroom. “That will be Round Two.”

“No more foreplay?” I ask as Nate’s fingers are now undoing the knot on my kimono.

“That was the hottest foreplay I’ve ever had,” Nate says, his fingers struggling to work while he’s kissing me.

Need surges through me with that admission. I moan against his lips, and Nate picks me up. He carries me to the bed, gently placing me down, and he tosses off his robe. Nate drops over me, and now his mouth is all over my body. I rake my hands through his dark-brown hair, and he groans in response. Then I run my hand over his tattooed arm, thinking the past is finally behind him now. That he is with a woman who loves him and treasures him and will never let him go.

Nate undoes the sash and opens the kimono, and a gasp escapes his lips.

“I love the way you dress for me,” he whispers, his eyes flickering over my mocha-colored lingerie. “Sweet and sexy, just like you.”

My heart soars. “I’m glad you find sweet sexy.”

“Yes,” Nate whispers, his fingertips dancing over the edges of my bra cups. “You’re good. You’re sweet.” He pauses and places a gentle kiss right in the center of my chest. “I love that about you.”

My eyes fill with tears. He’s not saying it, but that kiss told me everything.

Nate loves my heart.

As we begin to make love, I know we’re meant to be together. This isn’t just a connection of sex. It’s a connection of two people who respect each other, admire each other, enjoy each other. What a relationship is supposed to be—fun and passionate and intellectually rewarding. He supports my career, just as I support his hockey playing. We are better individuals because of what we found together.

And soon Nate will be able to say it. Nate will know this is what he wants forever, that I’m the woman he can move forward with, and this time, his love will be returned for the rest of his life.

So I close my eyes and lose myself in the arms of the man I love, knowing my future is set.

“Are you sure you made enough of these, Kenley? They’re
so
small.”

I grit my teeth as CiCi stands over my shoulder, peering down at dark chocolate brownie bites I’m placing on a tray. After two weeks of planning,
the
Friday night has arrived at my mother’s spacious home in Frisco.

The Passion Party Night.

“Mom,” I say, “not everyone is going to want to eat three mini brownies. And remember, the bakery is due here any minute with the passion fruit filled cupcakes, and that is the showpiece of your dessert display.”

“I don’t want people to think I don’t know how to throw a proper party and make sure there’s enough food for everyone,” Mom declares dramatically, putting her hand delicately on her chest. “That kind of thing is talked about in my circles. Everything has to be
perfect
tonight.”

“I think people are going to be talking about the fact that you had a vibrator party more than the number of brownies served,” Amanda quips as she slices a strawberry.

I hold back a laugh as Mom shoots Amanda the evil eye.

“How many times do I have to explain this?” Mom says with exasperation in her voice. “It is a
passion
party, Amanda.”

I ignore Mom as she goes on about how the party has blossomed to include not just women who are without men, but women who are married, in relationships, etc., but they are all seeking to
enhance sexual passion
in their lives.

“Take you, for example, Amanda. Ryan is on the road a lot when he’s producing during baseball season,” Mom says in an obvious tone. “And your needs shouldn’t stop because of that simple fact,
if
you know what I’m saying.”

And then my mom winks at Amanda.

Shit! I immediately become immersed in my brownies, hoping Mom doesn’t shift the conversation to me. If she asks if I’m sleeping with Nate I’ll
die.
She’s been so preoccupied with her first big post-divorce party that she hasn’t even been on Tumble to tell me all the latest news on Nate being in love with Harrison or to grill me about him.

Of course, I could always tell her that yes, I’m madly in love with Nate and sex with him is phenomenal. But that would lead to an epic mother meltdown and warnings about how he’s gay and using me and am I ready for this since my previous judgment about men is utter shit.

No. It’s best that I stay invisible right now.

And buy a vibrator to ensure I remain lecture-free.

“Well, I’m glad baseball season is over then,” Amanda declares, interrupting my thoughts. “It’s October, and the Dallas Coyotes aren’t in the playoffs, so I can be sexually fulfilled without placing an order for a dildo tonight.”

“Would you quit calling it
that?
” Mom says, exasperated. “They are
pleasure enhancement devices.
”

Don’t lose it. Don’t lose it
, I will myself, biting down on my lip to keep from laughing.
Stay invisible.

Suddenly my cell phone rings, and I glance at the caller ID. I quickly wipe my hands on a towel and answer it. “Hello?”

“Oh, Kenley!” Lisa, the baker, cries. “We have a
disaster
on our hands!”

Oh no. Please no. CiCi doesn’t do disasters. Ever.

“Um, yes?” I say, trying my best to sound casual and carefree.

“I’m on Central Expressway. I’ve been rear-ended by a cement mixing truck.”

“Are you okay?” I ask in concern. “Lisa, are you hurt?”

Amanda and Mom are staring at me, and I walk to the French doors that lead from the breakfast nook to Mom’s patio.

“No, I’m fine but the cupcakes aren’t,” Lisa cries. “They went
flying.
Everything is ruined, and I won’t have anything for you tonight. I’m so, so, sorry.”

I open the door and shut it behind me so I have privacy. “Lisa, that’s irrelevant. As long as you’re not hurt, that’s the main thing here.”

Lisa begins to cry. “You are the nicest client ever,” she says, her voice cracking. “Thank you. I swear I’ll make it up to you on your next order.”

“Lisa, don’t worry, I’m good,” I say.

“Okay. Um, I need to go, the police officer pulled up. I’ll call you Monday.”

I wish Lisa good luck and hang up. Okay. Okay. I have dealt with party crises before, and most of the time I can come up with a solution that the client finds acceptable.

Unfortunately for me, this time the client is
CiCi.

Which means this is a crisis of the highest order.

I begin to pace on the patio. The cupcakes are gone. This leaves me short on food for 20 women who are going to be indulging on all levels tonight.

And the cupcakes were the focal point of the display, too.

Shit.

The party starts in an hour and a half. Lexi is in Austin, attending a video editing seminar. Otherwise I’d beg her to pick up some cupcakes and edible flowers from the store and bring them here. I’m going to have to have Amanda do it. I’ll take over the fondue prep while she gets them and hope I can finish the food display while she’s gone.