Heat it Up: Off the Ice - Book One by Stina Lindenblatt

Author:Stina Lindenblatt [Lindenblatt, Stina]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
ISBN: 9781626818736
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2016-06-13T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

Kyle

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.

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