0°Celsius: To thaw a frozen heart

Coming up with excuses not to go after what you want won’t achieve a damn thing.

Jen couldn’t get those words out of her head as she wandered around the apartment. After Cash left, she’d tried occupying herself by posting some photos on her blog, but her heart hadn’t been in it. Sifting through her photographs, she’d kept thinking back to everything Cash had said. Stop making excuses and man up. Accusing her of letting her parents’ criticism erode her self-esteem.

His words had hurt, but not for the reason he’d believed. He hadn’t damaged her pride or hurt her feelings. No, what he’d done was voice the truth she’d been too blind to see.

She’d always told herself that photography was just a hobby. The thought of pursuing it on a professional level had crossed her mind once or twice, but her lack of experience and education had held her back. Better to call it something she did in her spare time and leave it as that.

But who was she kidding? Photography was her one and only passion, the only thing in her life that made her feel fulfilled and confident. Cash was right. She couldn’t make excuses anymore. She chose to work at pointless dead-end jobs not because she didn’t have any other options, not because she sucked at everything else, but because she was too scared to pursue the one thing that made her happy.

Biting her lip, she paused in the middle of the living room, wishing Cash would come home already so she could explain that she wasn’t angry with him, but with herself. For being a damned scaredy-cat and letting her parents and her own self-doubt hold her back for so long.

Where the hell is he?

She stalked into the kitchen to check the time, frowning when she noticed it was past eight already. He was supposed to meet Brendan at six thirty, and she couldn’t imagine the confrontation lasting this long.

And that was another thing. Why had he insisted on confronting her ex-boyfriend? Cash possessed some serious protective instincts, but she got the feeling this was about more than protecting her. This was about him…staking a claim.

Her teeth dug deeper into her lower lip. Was Cash developing feelings for her?

Was she developing feelings for him?

No, of course not. This was just a fling. A fling that would end in a week and a half.

Does it have to?

Did it?

Yes.

Well, maybe.

She took pause, weighing the notion in her head. Her cheeks heated as she thought about all the spectacular sex they’d been having. And the threesome… God, the threesome. Her body still tingled at the memory. But as amazing as last night had been, she wasn’t looking for a repeat performance. A fantasy fulfilled, that was how she viewed it, and she couldn’t see the whole ménage thing becoming a habit.

Besides, Cash didn’t need outside assistance to satisfy her. The man was perfectly capable of driving her wild all by his lonesome.

But his superior bedroom skills weren’t the only things she liked about him. He might be gruff and intense at times, but he was also funny, sweet, smart…

…and a military man to the core. He’d confessed his desire to go to officer school, which told her he was committed to the military life. And he was still young, which meant he had at least another decade or two before he rode a desk at the base.

Regret rippled through her. No matter how much she liked Cash, she didn’t want that kind of life. She’d already watched her mother struggle, and now she had to watch her sister-in-law suffer the same fate, spending long stretches apart from her husband, unable to talk to him anymore because they felt like strangers.

When a knock came on the door, Jen made a beeline for the front hall, needing the distraction. She peered into the peephole and found her brother’s cloudy blue eyes staring back at her. Instantly, her mood sank even lower. She hadn’t spoken to Carson since she and Cash had witnessed his coffee date with that redhead, and she was not looking forward to the argument that lay ahead.

“What’s up?” Carson said once she let him in. “Your messages sounded cryptic. All seven of them.”

He looked annoyed as he followed her into the living room. “Want something to drink?” she asked, stalling.

“No.” He flopped down on the couch and glanced around warily. “Where’s McCoy?”

She sighed. “Being a hero.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means the big, bad soldier is determined to have it out with Brendan.” She settled in the armchair and tucked her knees into her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “Brendan managed to get my number from Tessa.”

“Psycho McGee was bothering Tessa? And Cash is meeting with him ? Where?”

When her brother started to get up, Jen said, “Oh, sit down already. Cash is probably on his way home, so you’d be too late to back him up.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

Suspicion crept into his voice. “Why did McCoy go after Brendan?”

“He’s just being a good friend.” She quickly changed the subject before he could grill her further. “I talked to Holly, by the way.”

Carson’s shoulders stiffened. “When?”

“Sunday, after we left Mom and Dad’s house. She told me you two aren’t connecting.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Jenny.”

“Tough shit, because you’re going to.” She took a breath. How on earth did she even start?

Hey, big brother, are you cheating on your wife? The direct approach probably would be best, but a part of her didn’t want to ask the question for fear of what his answer would be.

Exhaling, she slid her knees down and placed her palms on her thighs. “Look, I need to ask you something. I know it’s none of my business, but I—”

A phone rang.

She suppressed a groan as Carson held up his hand. “I gotta get this.” He fished his phone out of his pocket. “Hey, Beck, what’s doing?” sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Jen’s heart dropped. Beck. AKA Thomas Becker, Carson’s CO.

Carson listened for a few seconds, frowning. The frown deepened the longer Becker talked, and then Carson said, “Fucking hell!” and shot to his feet. “Yeah, I’ll meet you there.”

Jen stood up too, fighting a tremor of panic. “What’s wrong? Are you going overseas?”

“No,” he said in a clipped tone.

“Then what’s going on?”

“What’s going on? McCoy and his band of idiots got arrested, that’s what’s going on.”

“What?”

Carson was already marching to the door. “I’ve gotta go. Someone needs to bail their sorry asses out of jail.”

“Wait, I’m coming with you!”

He glanced over his shoulder and shot her a firm look. “Out of the question. You’re staying here and locking the door behind me. I’ll call you when I know more.” He strode out the door, slamming it loudly behind him.

“Great job, McCoy. Great fucking job.”

Cash scowled at Seth from across the holding cell. “Nobody asked you to join in and defend my honor.”

“They would’ve hauled me in either way. Texas and Wade didn’t take a swing and they’re still in jail.”

Seth was sprawled on one of the long metal benches, his stormy gray eyes fixed on a cracked piece of plaster on the ceiling. On the other side of the cell, Cash and Jackson sat side by side, their heads resting against the cement wall, legs stretched out. Dylan had been pacing the concrete floor for the past hour.

The four of them were the holding cell’s sole occupants. Ironic, how the asshole who’d thrown the first punch was conspicuously absent. But when the cops showed up in the alley, Brendan had sprinted toward the cavalry and proceeded to spin a sordid tail in which he, the poor victim, had been jumped by four goons who’d broken his nose. The two uniformed officers took one look at the four SEALs and the cuffs had come out.

The last thing Cash heard before being carted toward the squad car was Brendan’s announcement that he was pressing charges against his assailants. Lying asshole.

Across the cell, Dylan finally quit pacing and turned to face the group, his broad shoulders slumped. “We’re totally gonna do hard time for this.”

Cash rolled his eyes. “We won’t do hard time. It was just a brawl.”

“Didn’t you ever see Con Air? Nicolas Cage ends up in prison for a brawl. Know why? Because his body is considered a lethal weapon thanks to his military training.”

“But didn’t he kill a bunch of dudes?” Jackson pointed out. “And then there was that scene where Harrison Ford is all Get off my plane. Best movie line ever.”

“That’s Air Force One, dumbass,” Seth said with a grin. “But yeah, I think Nic Cage accidentally killed someone. See, Wade, we’re fine. Nobody got accidentally murdered tonight.”

Dylan wasn’t listening. Scraping a hand through his blond hair, he glared at Cash. “I can’t go to prison. It’ll break my mother’s heart. And you know I’ll be fighting off would-be rapists left and right.”

Seth snorted. “You already like it up the ass, so what’s the problem?”

“Ha ha. I’m dying of laughter here.” Dylan looked frazzled. “Fuck, those inmates will be all over me. I’m too good-looking to resist.”

Cash snickered.

“Conceited much?” Jackson drawled.

Dylan stared down the Texan. “You saying I’m not good-looking enough to attract a bunch of lonely, horny prisoners?”

“No, just saying if we’re basing it on looks, I think I’d be the one holding the rapists at bay,” Jackson replied. “The ladies never stop raving about my face. And my fine ass.”

“My ass doesn’t get any complaints,” Dylan shot back. He narrowed his eyes, then glanced at Cash. “Who do you think? Me or Texas?”

Cash shook his head in bewilderment. “How the hell do I know?”

“I’m sure you’d both be equally violated,” Seth said helpfully.

“Ahem.”

They swiveled their heads toward the bars to find Lieutenant Commander Becker standing there.

For the first time all evening, Cash experienced a flicker of anxiety. Shit. The arresting officers had called their CO?

And the CO’s XO, he realized with growing dismay when Carson appeared next to Becker.

“Hey, Commander,” Dylan said with a sheepish look.

“You our ride home?” Seth piped up.

Becker sliced a hand through the air. “Not one word from any of you.”

A uniformed officer approached the cell with a heavy key ring. The keys jingled in the silent space as he unlocked the door. “You’re free to go,” he said in a monotone voice.

Trudging out of the cell, Cash felt like a kid about to get grounded for sneaking out of the house. They strode down the fluorescent-lit hallway of the police station toward the processing area. Their keys, wallets, and other belongings were returned to them, and as they signed some paperwork, Becker stood there with his arms crossed, a vein throbbing in his forehead.

They’d been ordered to stay silent, but Seth, being Seth, couldn’t help himself. “Is the asswipe pressing charges?”

Becker glared murder at him. The vein throbbed harder and faster.

But Carson answered. “No. There’s a witness on the record saying that Psycho McGee threw the first punch. No assault charges will be brought against you.”

Witness? Cash glanced at Jackson, who’d been their lookout, but he just shrugged.

“Waiter at the restaurant next door came out to have a smoke just as the action went down,” Carson explained.

They left the station and still Becker didn’t say a word. From the daggers in his eyes, the CO was clearly on the verge of exploding. Cash had two inches and about twenty pounds on the commander, but he felt five feet tall in the man’s presence. Beck was a man of few words, but when he spoke, you paid attention. And with those waves of intensity rolling off him, he could scare the shit out of you with one look.

They stood on the front steps, nobody making a move. Becker kept staring at them as if he wanted to kill them, and even though he’d expected it, Cash was still startled when the explosion came.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Becker roared. “A bar fight? Really?”

“Well, it was more like an alley fight,” Seth said.

Becker ignored him. “Here I am, enjoying a lovely evening with my wife and daughter and then the phone rings and who’s on the other end of the line? The police. Telling me four of my men decided to rough up some businessman in frickin’ public. Were you idiots born stupid or is this something you’ve worked on your whole life? Brawling in public! Jesus fucking Christ!”

Cash’s jaw went slack. He’d never seen Becker so pissed off or heard him utter so many words at one time.

“This is the last time I bail you out, understand?” Becker barked.

“Technically, you didn’t bail us out,” Seth pointed out. “No charges were pressed.”

Becker once again ignored the resident smartass. “If you ever pull another stunt like this, I’m filing a disciplinary report. No brawling, hear me? I don’t give a shit if you were provoked—you find yourself in this position again, you walk away. Understood?”

“Understood,” they answered in unison.

Becker crossed his arms over his massive chest and glared at them, one at a time. “And to solve your who-gets-violated puzzle? Based on looks alone—Pretty Boy over here.” He jammed a finger in Dylan’s direction. “Based on personality? Texas, because he’s too damn nice. Based on attitude? This guy,” he pointed at Seth, “because he’d probably piss off an inmate named Bubba with his smart mouth and Bubba’ll have to punish him.” Beck cocked his head at Cash. “And McCoy would quietly serve his time and probably avoid any ass shenanigans.”

A silence fell.

“Well,” Dylan spoke up. “Thanks for settling that, Commander.”

Becker’s eyes flashed. “Now, Carson and I will drive you dumbasses back to your cars, and then I’m going home to read a bedtime story to my daughter and pretend this bullshit never happened. Pretty Boy, Smartass, you ride with me.”

He marched off without waiting to see if Dylan and Seth were following. Which they were. Running after him, more like it.

Cash let out a relieved breath that he didn’t have to sit in the same car as Becker. He glanced at Carson, who’d stayed silent during Becker’s entire tirade. “You don’t have anything to add?”

“Nope.” Carson’s eyes twinkled as he gestured toward the Range Rover at the curb. “Come on, dumbasses, let’s get your car. Texas, you’re riding in the back.”

Jackson slid into the backseat as ordered. Cash reached for the passenger door, but Carson came up beside him before he could open it.

“Did the creep get the message?” Carson asked, steel in his eyes.

Cash nodded. “I think he did, LT.”

“Good.” The man’s lips twitched. “Don’t think I’m condoning brawling in public, but I appreciate what you did, McCoy. Looking out for my sister like that.”

“Jen and I are friends,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t like it when people harass my friends.”

Carson slanted his head, suspicion entering his expression. “Friends,” he echoed.

“Yup.” Cash was tempted to avert his gaze, but he knew that would only raise a red flag. So he met the lieutenant’s gaze head on, daring him to challenge that.

Hell, he kind of wished Carson would. Cash didn’t like lying to the guy, especially now that his feelings for Jen were…changing. This didn’t feel like a fling anymore, not by a long shot.

But Carson didn’t push the subject. Instead, he changed it, studying Cash’s face. “Bastard got you good, huh?”

He brought a hand to his mouth and touched the swollen bump. He felt the dried blood caked there. “Yeah, but I got him better.”

Carson grinned. “Good. But if you tell Becker I said that, I’ll deny it. My official stance on what you did tonight is the same as Becker’s—foolish as hell.”

“And your unofficial stance?”

“My unofficial stance is…hoo-yah.”

Jen was climbing the walls by the time Cash walked through the door. She was at his side in two seconds flat, gasping when she noticed the red bump at the corner of his mouth. And was that blood on his lip?

“Are you okay?” she demanded, her hand flying up to his face.

He winced. “I’m fine.” His fingers circled her wrist and he slowly moved her hand away. “Just a little bruise.”

She studied him, trying to decide if he was downplaying his injury in an attempt to act macho, but the lack of pain and discomfort in his eyes said he was telling the truth. Still, she couldn’t help but sweep her gaze over him to make sure he hadn’t been hurt anywhere else. He seemed fine, though. Pretty damn fine, in fact. His T-shirt hugged every delicious muscle of his chest, his scuffed-up boots added to his tough-guy look, and the swelling at the side of his mouth lent him a dangerous vibe.

He was so hot her mouth went dry, and he must have sensed where her thoughts had drifted because he cocked an eyebrow and grinned.

“You finished ogling me, Ms. Pervy Eyes?”

She laughed. “You complaining?”

“Nope. I love having your eyes on me. Especially when I’m naked.”

“You look really good naked,” she conceded.

Cash promptly reached for the hem of his shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“Giving you what you want.”

She intercepted his hand before he could remove his shirt. “Hold your horses. If you get naked now, I’ll totally lose my train of thought.”

“I’m that distracting, huh?”

“You know you are. Now come sit down and tell me what happened. How on earth did you wind up in jail?”

They settled on the couch, where Cash released a breath. “The boys and I went to the bar. We politely asked Brendan to come outside and I told him in no uncertain terms to leave you alone. He didn’t like that. He threw a punch. Things escalated from there.”

She had to laugh at his matter-of-fact recitation. “That’s it? He punched you, you punched back?”

“Yep.” Cash eyed her warily. “You’re not going to lecture me about violence and not solving problems with your fists, are you?”

She mulled that over. “No.” A grin sprang to her lips. “Honestly, the thought of you kicking his ass is hot as hell.”

Cash took that as his cue to reach for his shirt again.

This time, Jen didn’t stop him, and sure enough, when he exposed his chest, his six-pack distracted her for several seconds. Snapping herself out of it, she placed her hand in the center of his chest and said, “Wait. There’s something I wanted to say to you.”

“Fuck. It’s about earlier, isn’t it?” He hesitated. “I’m sorry, I was insensitive. I told you, I don’t know the first thing about talking to women—”

“Don’t apologize. I’m not mad at you.”

“You’re not?”

“No. I spent the whole day thinking about what you said, and I realized you’re right.” A twinge of embarrassment colored her cheeks. “I could have been submitting my work to magazines and newspapers years ago, but something always stopped me. The truth is, I’m scared. I’m scared people won’t like my pictures, scared they’ll tell me not to quit my day job, scared my parents will say I told you so.”

Cash stroked her cheek with his knuckles. “It’s okay to be scared.”

“Maybe. But it’s not okay to not try.” She shook her head. “I’ll never know if I’m any good unless I put myself out there.”

“Is that what you’re planning on doing?”

She nodded. “I made a list of publications I think I’d be a good fit for, but most of them require a portfolio, so I need to put one together.” Excitement trickled through her. “And then I’ll start submitting and lining up interviews. I want to try to make my hobby into a career. I have to try.”

His answering smile warmed her heart. Despite everything he’d said earlier, she’d half expected him to say it was a bad idea or give her that patronizing stare her parents had perfected. But he didn’t. All she saw in his eyes was encouragement, and before she could stop herself, she launched herself at him and pressed her lips to his.

She kissed him, cupping his stubble-covered jaw with her hands. Cash groaned and parted his lips, but it wasn’t until she tasted copper on her tongue that she remembered he’d been hurt.

She drew back and gently touched the bump. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“I already told you, it doesn’t hurt.”

She gazed into his eyes, experiencing another rush of amazement. “I can’t believe you beat up Brendan for me.”

“Does the thought of me defending your honor turn you on?”

“Mmm-hmmm.” Jen pressed her face to his neck and kissed him, then tasted him with her tongue, enjoying the masculine flavor of his skin. “You taste good.”

“I taste like saltwater,” he corrected. “I swam two miles earlier and haven’t showered yet.” He made a move to get up. “I should probably do that.”

“Later. I’m trying to properly thank you for what you did with Brendan.”

She gave him a little push so that he lay on his back, then lowered her head and kissed the hollow of his throat. When she felt his pulse hammering beneath her lips, she smiled. It was so liberating knowing she affected him as much as he affected her, that her kisses excited him, made his heart race.

As excitement quickened her own pulse, she roamed the spectacular expanse of Cash’s chest with her hands, tracing each hard ridge, gliding over every inch of smooth, tanned skin.

When she circled his nipple with her tongue, a husky sound escaped his lips. “That feels good,” he mumbled.

“Yeah?” Intrigued, she kissed her way to his other nipple and flicked her tongue over the flat brown disc. It stiffened, and Cash moaned again.

She hid a smile, enjoying having him at her mercy. Loving the way his muscles quivered beneath her touch. She kissed a path down to his abs and rubbed her cheek over his tight six-pack like a contented cat. The man was all muscle, all raw power and masculinity. Her fingertips skimmed over those delicious abdominal muscles before dipping down to the waistband of his cargo pants.

Unzipping him, she eased the pants down his long, muscular legs. He wasn’t wearing any boxers, and his erection sprang up to greet her, long and thick, a glistening drop pooling at the tip.

Jen practically purred with pleasure. “I could probably come just from looking at you.”

Male arrogance hung from his voice. “You like looking at my dick that much, huh?”

“God, yes.” She swallowed. “I wish I was as good at dirty talk as you. I’d tell you all the naughty things I want to do to you, how hot you make me, how badly I want you.”

“Well, damn, that’s something I definitely want to hear. Come on, baby, talk dirty to me.”

Ribbons of heat uncurled inside her, spreading to every erogenous zone in her body. “I want to lick you,” she told him. “I want to suck on the head of your cock and feel you pulsing against my tongue.”

“Yeah?” He made a growling noise. “Do it.”

As her heart pounded at triple speed, she licked his shaft from root to tip. The heady taste of him made her head spin. She encircled him with her fingers and pumped slowly, continuing to lavish him with long swipes of her tongue before closing her lips around him and sucking hard.

“What else?” he said in a raspy voice that made her shiver. “What else do you want to do to me?”

“Ride you. I want to ride you.”

A strangled noise left his lips. “Do it.”

Trembling wildly, she released him and climbed onto the couch. Rather than straddle him, she scrambled up his body and positioned her knees at either side of his head so that her aching core hovered over his face. “I want your tongue on me first,” she said huskily.

Cash didn’t hesitate. His tongue swiftly connected with her clit, spearing the swollen bud with absolute precision.

Jen cried out and grabbed the arm of the couch to steady herself. The satisfied growling sounds Cash made as he licked her teased her hypersensitive nerve endings. He feasted on her like a starving man, his strong hands digging into her ass, as she ground into his face with complete abandon. She should’ve been embarrassed by her excitement, the all-consuming desperation, but her brain became a black hole void of all thought, any sense of decency forgotten. All she knew was that she had to come. Needed it, the way she needed oxygen and sustenance.

But just as the orgasm rose to the surface, just as her muscles turned to limp noodles and her pulse grew erratic, she managed to wrench herself away and stave off the release.

Breathing hard, she flung an arm in the direction of the coffee table. They’d formed a habit of leaving condoms all over the apartment in the event that a crazy case of lust overtook them, which seemed to happen often. She’d tucked a condom underneath the Sports Illustrated magazine on the table and her fingers shook as she grabbed it. Somehow she managed to tear it open and roll the condom onto his erection. Then she sat astride him, her breaths coming out shallow.

“I should warn you, I’m going to explode the second you’re in me.”

“I look forward to it,” he said solemnly.

Sucking in a burst of air, Jen sank onto his thick, hard cock.

As she’d warned, pleasure blasted through her the moment he filled her, her inner muscles clenching even as they stretched to accommodate him. The orgasm sent her soaring into oblivion. Gasping, she collapsed on his chest, her hips moving in a frantic rhythm as she rode out the release.

When she crashed down from the orgasmic high, she felt Cash shuddering beneath her. His upward thrusts contained no finesse, just short, erratic strokes emphasized by his hoarse grunts as he came hard and fast.

Sometime later, when their breathing steadied and their pulses regulated, Cash gently moved her off him so he could ditch the condom, then brought her body back to his and cuddled her close. Jen rested her cheek on his chest, sighing in sweet contentment.

God, this felt good.

It felt right.

Apprehension gnawed on her insides when she realized where her thoughts had drifted. She tried to wiggle out of Cash’s embrace, but he held her tighter, his laughter tickling her forehead. “You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart. I haven’t gotten my cuddling fill yet.”

An unwitting smile tugged on her lips. She forced herself to relax, trying not to overthink things. Snuggling after sex was perfectly acceptable fling behavior.

But…yeah, she definitely needed to work a little harder on the not-falling-in-love-with-him part.