The ice man cometh…
Elle Sutcliffe will do anything to stay far away from happy couples making out under sprigs of mistletoe. So when her best friend asks for a favor on Christmas Eve, she quickly agrees. After all, she only has to watch an ice cream store for a couple of hours.
Or so she thinks, until she learns there’s more than frozen yogurt in the walk-in freezer. When she sneaks inside to investigate, she finds a six-foot ice sculpture of a naked man, carved to mouthwatering perfection.
If only Elle’s body temperature didn’t run hot enough to melt ice from two feet away, she might be able to put all that hard masculine beauty to some real use.
Then again, one brief touch couldn’t hurt… could it?
Read an Excerpt
A smile tilted the corners of Elle’s mouth. She should introduce herself. Ask him if he needed anything. Cup of coffee, Mr. Blackhawk? Frozen yogurt? Me, spread-eagled and covered in melted French vanilla?
Before she could change her mind, Elle took a deep breath and pushed the door open. The seam hissed and cold air escaped the interior of the freezer in a fine mist.
“Hello?” she called out as she entered. “Mr. Blackhawk?”
No response. A lone overhead bulb cast bright neon light directly above the center of the freezer’s interior, but the edges of the room remained shrouded in darkness.
Elle cleared her throat as she waited for her eyes to adjust. “Liam?”
Nothing. Not even the flick of a chisel or the scrape of a boot against the floor. Disappointment weighed heavily in her gut. He wasn’t here.
Oh, he’d definitely been here at one point. She could make out the silhouette of the finished sculpture from her spot by the door. But aside from that and a few discarded tools, the freezer was obviously empty of all but commercial ice cream cartons.
“Figures,” she mumbled under her breath.
She barely felt the cold, but her body hummed as though coming alive in the freezing temperature. Her breasts felt heavy and her nipples ached, begging to be touched. She slipped her hand over a puckered nub, drawing it gently between her thumb and forefinger. Arousal zinged down her veins, shooting straight to her clit.
At least she’d see the statue before anyone else did. Later tonight she could fantasize about Liam’s hands caressing the ice while she brought herself to climax.
All alone. Again.
Not that things would be any different if she ran into Liam. It’s not as though he’d shove her up against the wall of the freezer and yank down her jeans, thrust his hand between her legs and—
Her thoughts scattered as she finally made her way around the sculpture. A gasp escaped her throat. She stared in mute awe, knowing her jaw was hanging open but unable to close it.
It was breathtaking. No, Elle corrected herself, he was breathtaking.
She’d expected another one of Liam’s signature couple poses. Instead, he’d sculpted a man. A fully naked man who towered over her 5’3″ frame by at least a foot, his head almost brushing the ceiling. His arms were slightly outstretched, as though inviting her to step within the circle of his embrace.
Elle’s breath halted in her throat. Her heart hammered hard against her ribcage. Another step closer and she’d ruin it. Her feet felt glued to the ground. She didn’t dare breathe as she waited to make sure she’d stopped far enough away.
When she was confident her proximity hadn’t messed with the ice, Elle forced herself to look again, slower this time, starting from the bottom. The bulb swayed slightly above her head, scattering its muted neon glow on the crystalline ice, revealing the perfection of Liam’s strokes and emphasizing the firm, hard lines of the perfect masculine body.
Her gaze caressed the sculpture. She wished she could touch it, but she didn’t dare. Instead, she tried to content herself with studying the sinewy curve of the man’s calves, his knees, his thick, muscular thighs—and came to an abrupt halt on his erect cock.
She gulped hard. The shaft was perfect, long and thick and hard, curving upward slightly as though leaning in to kiss the man’s perfectly sculpted abs. She could even make out small, ropy veins traveling along the underside of the impressive rod.
The bulbous head was no less striking. Even the tiny slit had been lovingly chiseled, making it appear as though a drop of moisture glistened in the small groove.
Taut, heavy balls hung down from the base of the shaft. If she peered closely enough, Elle could even make out the thin etchings of pubic hair marring the globular surface.
She whimpered, giving in to the inescapable fact that her lust had blossomed a hundred fold in the past five minutes. Now hopelessly wet, Elle felt her panties sticking to the folds of her pussy. Her clit throbbed as she stared with unguarded fascination.
She inched a little closer and licked her suddenly dry lips. Just one touch… that’s all she wanted. One tiny, insignificant sweep of her fingertip across that luscious cockhead.
Then she’d be gone.
