Freezing Page 8

  “My god, woman, go put some clothes on immediately. I’m having a hard enough time standing over here right now.”

  I laugh as I wave him in and retreat to the stairs. I quickly dress in jeans and a plain shirt and head back downstairs.

  I find him in the kitchen, staring into my empty fridge. The light from inside the fridge makes his profile glow. I don’t get the luxury of staring at him because he spots me immediately.

  “We’re going to the store,” he says.

  “What? Why?” I ask quickly.

  “We’re going to cook dinner together.”

  “Oh. Buddy, you have me mixed up with Suzie Homemaker. I don’t cook food. I order it. Or it comes from a box.”

  “You don’t cook?”

  “No sir. I burn. I excel at calling in to-go orders. And microwaving. Apparently, I’m really good at pressing buttons.”

  “How have you survived all this time?”

  “Reed cooks sometimes, but I didn’t get that gene when they were doled out by my parents.”

  “So much to learn.” He shakes his head.

  “I’ve done pretty well despite not learning how to cook. Why start now?”

  “Come on. This will be fun.” He smirks as he leads the way through my house and out to his truck parked at the curb.

  We spend the next hour and a half grocery shopping. I throw a bunch of microwave meals into the cart, but he puts them back in the freezer after I wander into the next aisle. He lets a few slide, but not without complaint. When we’re checking out, it’s a battle over who gets to pay, but after he uses his entire body to block me from the credit swiper thing, he wins.

  “I think this is the most food I’ve ever seen in my kitchen.” I say as we lug the last bags into the house.

  He laughs as he starts putting things away.

  “I can’t believe you put all those microwaves dinner away. What am I going to eat?”

  “Food.” He laughs.

  “So you’re going to come over and cook food all the time? That’s quite a heavy commitment. I’m not even sure that I really like you enough to endure nightly visits. I’m actually not sure you’re ready for that one either.” Because some of the time it would be cooking for three and not just two.

  He stops everything and turns to me. A contemplative look covers his face as he wipes his hands on a towel. Placing one foot in front of the other in purposeful strides, he closes the five foot gap between us. He takes my face into his hands and angles his head slightly, then lowers his mouth to mine. My hands grip his wrists and my eyes flutter closed as our lips meet for the first time. His kiss is gentle, and his lips are soft although slightly rough around the edges from the day old scruff on his face. His tongue basically knocks on my lips for entrance and I don’t hesitate to let him in. He explores my mouth and then starts to slowly pull back. His lips slowly retreat and then come back for a soft, closed-mouth kiss.

  Perfect first kiss. No slobber, no suffocation, not overdone. And it was the perfect hint of what could happen to leave me wanting more. And boy, do I want more. His hands are still on my jaw and my hands still grip his wrists as he looks down at me.

  “Oh you like me all right,” he boasts, his voice like gravel. A slow smile forms on his mouth. His smoldering stare makes my knees weak as he begins to pull away.

  “That’s debatable,” I finally say.

  He pulls fully away and resumes putting away the groceries.

  “Oh really?”

  “So what, you’re a really good kisser and you aren’t too shabby to look at. What else do you have?”

  “I can cook.”

  “Well, you got me there,” I sigh.

  “So, a good kisser, huh?” he pries.

  Immediately embarrassed, I switch up the subject. “So, what are we – I mean you – making for dinner?”

  “We are going to make chicken parmesan.”

  “Sounds hard.” I scrunch my nose.

  “It’s easy, I promise. I’ll reward you with one of my good kisses,” he teases.

  “Now you’re bribing me?”

  “Who says I’m not getting anything out of it?” he retorts.

  “You can’t blame me if I burn anything,” I start. “I burn pans like you change underwear.”

  “How do you know if I’m wearing underwear?” He smiles lazily.

  “Oh c’mon!” I cross my arms.

  I reached into the mudroom cabinet for the aprons that I never use. I handed him the plain apron while I donned the princess apron my mom bought me last Christmas. He begins to instruct me while lining up the ingredients for our meal. I roll the chicken in the bread crumb mixture after dipping it in the eggs. My hands feel pretty gross, but I’m enjoying the process as he instructs me what to do. He has me doing the majority of the work, with a watchful eye over everything. Once the chicken is in the oven, he sets a timer for when to start the pasta.

  As I’m washing my hands, he slides behind me with his hands on my hips and leans down to kiss the top of my shoulder.

  “So far nothing has been burned,” he whispers, kissing up the slope of my neck. My knees feel like noodles each time his mouth connects to my skin and it feels like my heart is fluttering.

  “The chicken just went into the oven, there’s still time for me to ruin it.” I laugh lightly between catching my breath and angling my neck to give him more space to advance on.

  “Have some faith in yourself. I won’t let you burn anything.” His hands grip my hips tighter as his lips reach that sensitive spot behind my ear. Then he starts to turn me around, keeping me trapped between his body and the kitchen sink. My hands find their place at his hips, which begin to close the distance between our bodies. His lips trail across my cheek to the corner of my mouth. I turn my head slightly to have his lips fully on mine and immediately open to him. Our tongues run against one another as his right hand goes into my hair and cradles the back of my head as his other hand continues to grip my waist firmly while pulling me into him. The timer on my oven begins blaring, interrupting the moment. We don’t pull away from one another at first until I give him a small push to break the kiss.

  “We don’t want to burn dinner, right?” I smile, looking up to his parted lips as they form into a smile.

  “Right. That would suck,” he says after a moment. “But that was only the first timer.”

  Chapter Nine

  Brad

  I’m too comfortable. We worked together in the kitchen preparing dinner with ease. The light touches, the stolen kisses were easy. It was almost like we’ve been around one another for a while, like we cooked dinner together often. Meanwhile, I was fighting off the demons yelling in my head to back off and not get further involved with Mika. The other part of me was giving into the desires and the newness of whatever this was turning into. I had fought the pull between us for so long, I was mentally exhausted from corralling my thoughts.

  I could learn to trust again. Just because one situation went awry, doesn’t mean that another will. One person fucked me over but that’s not how everybody is. I need to give into the chance of something happening.

  I mentally remind myself to not take things too far tonight. We should have a conversation before I fuck her, regardless of how tempting her body is, how she molds to me when I kiss her. I need to make sure everything is out in the open, so she knows how fucked up my head is. Once she has all the facts, then she can decide if she wants to get involved with me. It’s the least I can do.

  Is that too much too soon? Or would that be me going into whatever this is with everything out on the table. Will my fucked up-ness scare her?

  I’m mentally backpedaling before I can even get the thoughts in my head straight.

  A hand lands on my shoulder and snaps me back to reality.

  “You’ve been washing the same plate for the past five minutes. I don’t think that it could get any cleaner.” Mika tilts her head, a question evident on her mind. Is everything okay?

 
; I place the plate in the rack and turn off the water. She hands me a towel to dry my hands. My back is to the sink and she’s standing a few feet away.

  “Sorry, just thinking.”

  “About how amazing of a cook I am?” She smiles, her hands on her hips.

  “Precisely. Maybe the next meal, you can teach me how to cook,” I throw back.

  “I can make a mean bowl of cereal.” She grins proudly.

  “I do like my cereal.” I push off the counter and stride to her. One hand goes around her waist, the other to her neck. I pull her to me and lightly kiss her. “We need to talk.”

  “Wow. I think this is the quickest I’ve ever been broken up with. My cooking really is horrible,” she playfully pouts.

  “First, not a chance. Second, the food was delicious. I just want you to know what you’re getting into.”

  “You make it sound like you’re a bank robber and I’m going to be an accomplice.”

  “You know that’s not why I went to jail, right?”

  “Of course. I can read.” She smiles.

  “Hooked on Phonics?”

  “Worked for me!” She laughs as I shake my head.

  I grab her hand and lead her into the living room. I motion for her to sit and then I take a seat beside her, angle my body towards her and lock eyes with her.

  “I’m going to be completely honest with you, because I don’t want to blindside you once we get deeper into this connection. I learned the hard way to be completely honest with everyone in my life.”

  She nods while worrying her bottom lip, pulling it through her teeth.

  “I guess there are things that I should tell you too,” she says quietly.

  “Let me go first. What do you know about my past?” I ask, letting her lead.

  “Based upon Google, you’ve got a colorful past. You’re a part of the Maddox family, but you haven’t always been. You used to be an executive at Mad Designs along with your cousins. You were quite the playboy, and then you went to jail for perjury,” she states matter of factly, as if she was reading my Wiki page.

  “That’s the CliffsNotes version. If you want me to go into detail, tell me. I’m re-learning how to trust, and I want to start with you but if you don’t want my fucked-up-ness in your life, I need you to tell me and we’ll just be friends and say goodnight.”

  “I’m interested, in your story and in you.”

  “Everyone make mistakes. I made an incredible mistake that resulted in losing my family and my place in the family business. I told a secret – my biggest secret – to the wrong person in a moment of weakness and she turned and used it against me. Not right away; first she made me fall for her, made me think she loved me too. Once she learned about Jacob and Tyson, I became last week’s news to her. She decided I wasn’t the Maddox she wanted, seeing as there were bigger fish in the pond. She created an elaborate scheme and blackmailed me to go along with it. I was in too deep and had so much fear that my secret would ruin my relationship with Jacob and Tyson, only I should have realized that going along with the scheme would have the same result, cause the same destruction. I wasn’t thinking clearly until it was too late.”

  “I’m sorry,” she says sadly.

  “Don’t be. It was my own fault. But now, because of the whole experience, there are some things about me that have changed.”

  “Okay. You’re into dudes, aren’t you? I mean, after sitting in jail for a hot minute, becoming someone’s bitch… it makes sense. I mean, you’re pretty – you have a really great face – so I can see all the guys wanting to stick it to you, pull you around by your pinky and shit,” she nervously rambles.

  “If I were into guys, I wouldn’t be here right now, giving you Brad Maddox 101.” I fight breaking into laughter.

  “You could want to braid my hair, do facials, paint our nails or something. You know, be girlfriends.”

  “That’s not at all that I want to do with you.”

  “Bummer. I need to re-paint my toes.” She looks to her toes and wiggles them.

  “Focus,” I say with a laugh. “So, I got fucked over by the person I told my secret to. She took my truths and bent them to her will, held them over my head and forced me to lie to my blood. I went to jail because of her and for not being a man and owning up to shit. I couldn’t tell you completely why I went along with the rouse, because I really don’t know what the fuck I was thinking at the time. It was like she was the Mad Hatter and put her devise on my head and controlled me.”

  “Did you just give me a DC comics reference?”

  I smirk.

  “I didn’t know you were a closet nerd.” She shakes her head.

  “It’s a new thing. It comes with working with software development. I hear some crazy shit sometimes. Anyway…”

  “So, you have an issue with women and trust,” she says easily.

  “I do.”

  “Do you think you can trust me?” she asks after a moment.

  “I want to, like I said.” I breathe. “For the first time in a long time, I want to trust again.”

  “I should probably come clean too.” She takes a deep breath, runs her palms across the top of her thighs and looks up to me with a small smile. “I have a son.”

  I look around the room as if he will materialize out of thin air.

  “He’s not here. He’s with his father. We have some schedule, but yeah. He’s here a lot too.”

  “Okay. How old is he?”

  Can I handle this? A girlfriend and a child? She has a child; that’s a huge commitment. This makes things different, much different. Holy crap, can I do this? I look at her and, without a doubt, I want to try.

  “He’s five, he’s in kindergarten and his name is Jared.”

  “The father?”

  “Um, he was a guy that I was seeing while I was in school.”

  “Okay.” I nod and swallow the lump in my throat.

  “He’s a doctor, but we don’t work together. He’s a good dad and yeah, that’s my secret. I’m a single mom, but my kid is pretty fantastic.” She smiles, locking eyes with me.

  “All right. And here I thought that you had some really crazy, scary secret.” I nervously laugh. Can I be involved with someone with a kid? Do I want kids?

  “So, you know that my mouth says things before my brain filters it. I try to be as truthful as possible. Can I ask that of you too?”

  “That’s how I want to live now, no lies. They already ruined me once. I will be as honest as possible.”

  “Can I ask something of you?” She looks apprehensive.

  “Sure.”

  “Be vulnerable with me and in return, I will be vulnerable with you. If you’re feeling weak, I will be strong and vice-versa.”

  Mika

  I’m not too sure how long I held my breath, but it whooshed out when a smile broke on his face.

  “I think that I can navigate that, if you can.”

  “I’m pretty much a weakling, I can’t even open jars. So you’ll be doing a lot of strong things,” I joke.

  “So we’re going to do this?” he asks.

  “I thought that was the plan?” I ask.

  He kisses my forehead and then holds me to him before releasing me and settling his hand on my knee.

  “I may fuck up and close myself off. I may freak out, and I may just become a dick. Those are my demons right now, I’m trying to push through and stay out of my head. I want this, I want you and I’m going to try like crazy not to let myself get in my own way.”

  “Just remember that we can talk it out.”

  “If it’s all right with you, I’m finished with talking.” He leans in again and runs his nose against the top of my shoulder and up the slope of my neck. I breathe out a jagged breath and squeeze my legs together to ease the ache forming in my sex. His hand moves up from my knee to my hip as he settles and squeezes.

  His hand moves up from the hip up my side and then to around my back. He pulls me into him and I go willingly as o
ur mouths fuse together. His tongue seeks mine and rubs against it, feeling like velvet as warmth floods my veins. My arms wrap around his neck, my fingers landing on the nape of his neck and toying with the hair at his neckline as we mold to one another.

  Moments pass, my skin is heated and I’m out of breath as Brad pulls back.

  “I should get going,” he whispers.

  “But, why?” I cry.

  “I don’t want to rush anything. This isn’t just some hook-up.”

  “How about for shits and giggles, we hook up tonight and then tomorrow we can go back to not rushing things?” I wink.

  “Once I sink my cock into you, I don’t think that I will want to ever leave,.” he whispers.

  “Okay,” I say dumbly, in a daze from his words that I’m not sure are a threat or a promise.

  He slowly stands and as he does he adjusts himself, shakes out his leg and groans.

  “This is as torturous to me as it is to you, you know,” he says, offering me his hand to help me up. My hand stays wrapped in his big hand as we walk towards the front door.

  “But we could turn that torture into pleasure.” I’m laying it on thick now, my hormones have taken over and no rational thought remains at the forefront of my mind.

  “You’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you?”

  “I’m just making sure my man is taken care of.”

  “Your man, eh?” He says, stopping in front of the door and holding both my hands in front of him with a smile.

  “Well, considering where you’ve been for the past few years, would you be more comfortable with my bitch?” I smile.

  “For the record, I wasn’t anyone’s bitch in jail,” he deadpans.

  “Will you be mine?” I joke.

  “I’ll settle for being your man.” He pulls me into him, one hand going to my hip and the other running up my back to my hair and gripping the back of my head.

  “Okay.” He kisses me and my knees start to feel weak. My hands grasp his hips as he pushes into me and turns me so my back is against the front door.

  “Oh, fuck it,” he growls against my lips and hitches me up to wrap my legs around his hips. He walks to the stairs, holding me carefully and kissing me as he takes the stairs one by one. He kicks open my door and sets me gently down on the bed. “You’re a temptress, you know that?” he says, nipping at my lower lip as he kisses me again. His muscular body leans over me but he keeps his weight off my frame. My feet pull on his hips to get him closer, but his arms halt the movement.