Frozen Heart Page 4

  “Are you—” His voice was breathless, desperate. “Are you touching yourself too, Nash?”

  “Not yet. But I want to. I’m hard too. Really hard.” I let my eyes drift shut. “I’m going to take it into my hand in a minute, Alex, and stroke up and down. Maybe use some lube. Do you have any lube?”

  “N-no.”

  Poor guy. He was so repressed he didn’t even keep lube around to jerk off with.

  “Lube helps,” I told him, still speaking quietly. “Makes your hand nice and slick, so you can jerk yourself without chafing. But if you don’t have any, I won’t use it either. I’m just going to wrap my hand around myself, and…”

  He groaned. Loudly.

  “…and then I’m going to move my hand, really slowly, up and down. Can you do that for me, Alex? Move your hand very, very slowly?”

  He must have done it, because I heard a choked sound, like he was slowly strangling.

  “That’s good,” I whispered. “Nice and slow, Alex. Do you have a light on?”

  “N-no. It’s pitch dark.”

  “Turn on a lamp. I want you to look down and watch as you touch yourself, okay? Tell me what you see.”

  There was an audible click, and then a heavy silence.

  “Are you watching?”

  “Mmmmm hmmmmm.”

  “Tell me what’s happening, Alex. Is your cock dripping precome, every time you move your hand?”

  His voice sounded almost awed. “Yeah.”

  “So it’s nice and slick. Good. Use that to wet your palm, and keep stroking yourself, but keep it slow, Alex. Really slow. In a little while you’re going to watch yourself come. You’re gonna watch your cock jerk and spasm, watch it shoot your load all over your stomach…”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  The hoarse words sounded like a prayer. I went on, relentless. “You’re going to come harder than you’ve ever come, just for me. Imagine my hand on your cock, Alex. Imagine me stroking you slowly, letting the pressure in your balls build, letting the tension coil tighter and tighter, until your thighs are shaking and you’re so hot you can’t take it any more…”

  I was stroking myself now, hardly aware of what I was doing. I’d forgotten about going slow. I’d forgotten everything except the sound of his breathing, rough and frantic and desperate, in my ear.

  “I’m imagining your cock in my hand,” I told him, “imagining I can feel it throbbing. You’re so close to coming, Alex, so ready to explode…”

  He made a noise that sounded for all the world like a sob, and it thrilled me to the core. I had this powerful, strong man on his knees, metaphorically speaking. He was the CEO of one of the biggest companies in the world, and I had him wrapped right around my little finger. The feeling of power over another man wasn’t something I’d experienced before. I liked it.

  “What do you want most, Alex?”

  “I want—” His voice sounded like he’d been gargling with glass. I imagined him, sweaty and disheveled and desperate, his chest heaving, his back arching as he thrust his hips upward. “I just want to come. That’s all.”

  “If I were there,” I murmured, “how would you want me, Alex? What would you want me to do?”

  “Just—just—your hand—”

  I could sense the effort it took him to admit that. Despite the courage it had taken for him to call me, he was still scared shitless. He wanted this an awful lot, had probably been wondering what it might be like to be with a guy for most of his adult life, but it nevertheless scared the hell out of him.

  I knew I wouldn’t get him to express anything more explicit than that, not tonight.

  “Hand jobs feel good,” I agreed. “I’d kneel over you in bed, take your cock in my hand, and start stroking it just a little faster. Make you drip precome, and maybe, just maybe, I’d lick it away.”

  He made a noise that was halfway between a groan and a sob, a wordless, anguished cry of need. The desperation in that sound made something inside me catch fire. I was jerking my own cock now, hard and fast.

  “Are you ready to come, Alex?”

  “Yes. Yes.”

  He sounded broken, wrecked, and the knowledge that I’d brought him to this point filled me with spiraling heat. I could barely hold back my own orgasm.

  “Imagine me licking you there, stroking you with my hand,” I managed between gasps. “Until you come—you come—right into my hair, Alex, all over my hair and my face—”

  He cried out, and I knew from the feral, drawn-out sound that he was coming. I let my hand move hard and fast, and I came too, in hot, fierce spasms, my cock jerking furiously, shooting come all over my stomach. It felt incredible, intense and breathtaking, and so fucking long. At last I fell back against the sheets, drained, feeling a sudden exhaustion overtake me.

  There was a silence on the other end, and I thought maybe he’d fallen asleep. But I thought I could hear fast, uneven breaths, slowly steadying. At last he spoke.

  “Nash. That was…”

  “Yeah. It was great.” I blinked into the darkness, trying to sound commanding. It was harder when I was so tired. “But it’s time to go to sleep, Alex. We both have to get up early.”

  There was another silence. At last he spoke.

  “Good night, Nash.”

  “Night, Alex.”

  Chapter Six

  Alex

  When I woke up in the morning, I couldn’t believe what I’d done.

  In the dim light of dawn, I looked down at myself, blinking in sleepy confusion. Ordinarily I slept in expensive silk pajamas, which covered me from shoulders to ankle, but this morning I was surprised to discover I was stark naked. For a moment, I couldn’t imagine what had happened.

  But then my gaze fell on my phone, resting on the pillow next to me, and hot embarrassment flooded me.

  I’d called Nashville Lawson. In the middle of the night. And the two of us had—had—

  I remembered his soft tenor voice, telling me what to do. What not to do. His explicit words, describing what the two of us might do together, in shocking and thrilling detail. And even worse, I remembered staring at my own cock avidly, watching it jerk and twitch in my hand as I came in searing-hot spasms, imagining the caress of his hand and the soft velvety touch of his tongue as pleasure swept through me in an overwhelming wave.

  But the absolute worst part of it all was the vivid and compelling image that had sent me careening over the edge—the thought of my come spattering in thick white ropes against his brilliant red hair.

  The image he’d put into my mind with his words had been so dirty, so crude, so pornographic, that I felt my skin flare hot with belated shame and embarrassment. Lydia, I thought miserably, had been right. I’d struggled my hardest to deny that part of myself, to fight against those impulses, but in the end I hadn’t been able to.

  When tempted, I had found myself utterly unable to resist the pleasures of the flesh, and if I’d stayed with Lydia, sooner or later I would have inevitably cheated on her. I was repulsive, disgusting, and she’d been right to leave me.

  The strange thing was, my body felt incredible, as if I were still riding a post-orgasm high. I felt warm and satiated and completely contented, physically speaking.

  I wanted to come again and again and again, with Nash’s voice whispering filthy things into my ear as I climaxed.

  But I couldn’t. Nothing like that could ever happen again. Never, ever again.

  I gritted my teeth as I got out of bed, acknowledging what I had to do.

  I needed to fire Nashville Lawson.

  ✽✽✽

  By the time I battled my way through rush-hour traffic, parked the car in the garage, and stormed into Snow Tower, I’d calmed myself somewhat. Of course the notion of firing Nash was utterly unacceptable, since absolutely none of what had transpired between us was his fault. After all, I’d been the one to pick up my cell and call him in the middle of the night. I’d been the one who was unable to resist the carnal thoughts he’d wh
ispered to me. Despite my regular threats to fire those who worked for me, I prided myself on fairness, and I had never let an employee go for frivolous or arbitrary reasons.

  But the way I’d given in to him so easily—that couldn’t be allowed to happen again. I’d permitted an employee—a mere assistant, at that—to crash his way through my protective barriers, allowed him to shatter the walls of ice I’d constructed around my heart long ago.

  My father, I thought wretchedly, would have been deeply ashamed.

  The only answer was to restore the walls that should always exist between a CEO and those who work for him. To build them up, stronger than before. I could do that. I just had to build the walls so that they were thicker and higher.

  And stay the hell away from Nashville Lawson.

  But that was easier said than done, since he worked for me. Even so, it was something I would have to force myself to do. Because Nash was a nice young man and a hard worker… and he was also exceedingly dangerous.

  As I strode down the hall toward my office, I saw that Nash was already seated at his desk, just outside my inner sanctum. He looked up and flashed a wide grin as I approached, but I didn’t smile back. I scarcely spared him a glance, and said nothing at all. He didn’t seem to notice.

  “Good morning, Alex,” he chirped, as brightly as if he hadn’t been up half the night.

  “From now on, you can call me Mr. Snow.” I strove for all the coldness I could muster. It must have worked, because the wattage of his smile dimmed a bit, and he tilted his head in what appeared to be confusion.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I threw open the doors to my office and glared back over my shoulder, as fiercely as I could manage. “Get to work, Lawson, or I’ll fire you.”

  I stalked into my office, shutting the big doors behind me, and then walked more slowly across the enormous stretch of navy carpeting. Instead of sitting down behind the huge steel-and-glass desk, as I ordinarily did, I found myself drawn to the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the room. I stood there, uncharacteristically idle, gazing over Chiswick.

  The sun was shining.

  Typically I hardly bothered to glance outside. I was a busy man, and I perpetually had too much to do, and too little time to do it in. No time to waste time gawking at the scenery, my father would have said. There’s work to be done. At any rate, I’d been looking out over the city skyline since I was a little boy, even if the building that housed Snow and Associates had changed, and there was no reason to stare at it, because I was entirely familiar with the view.

  Snow Tower was bigger and grander than the original headquarters of the company had been, and numerous other new buildings had been added to the Chiswick skyline as well. Yet it was recognizably the same city, from the tall World Center that dwarfed even Snow Tower, to the wide blue river that snaked along through the downtown area, making its steady way out to the Chesapeake Bay, and from there to the great Atlantic. Everything that spread out beneath me was as utterly familiar as the face I saw in the mirror each morning.

  And yet I stood there, staring at it as if I’d never seen it before.

  It was, I thought, a lovely day. The sky stretched out above the city with that deep, vivid blue that only occurred on clear winter days. Not a single cloud marred the sapphire perfection of it, and the Wilson River reflected the blue back in a deeper, richer hue. Far below, I could see cars making their way slowly along, crawling along the dense network of roads, glittering like iridescent insects.

  A sudden stark loneliness rolled over me, almost crushing me with its force. I was one of the most important men in this city, and yet… I stood apart from it all. Above it all.

  At that moment heard a soft click, and turned my head to see Nashville walking toward me, the heavy door closing behind him. All at once I felt less lonely.

  Walls, I reminded myself, and fixed my sternest expression on my face.

  “I don’t need you right now, Lawson. Get to work.”

  He kept walking toward me, as if I hadn’t spoken at all. Reaching my desk, he leaned against the polished wood, settling one hip on it, and gazed at me steadily. Unflinchingly.

  “What’s wrong, Alex?”

  “I told you,” I said between my teeth. “Call me Mr. Snow.”

  He cocked his head, as if trying to make sense of my words. “But we’re alone.”

  “Irrelevant. To you, I am Mr. Snow. At all times. Now get back to work, or—”

  “Or you’ll fire me, I know. I’ve heard it before, Alex. About two hundred times.” He straightened up and sauntered toward me. Today he wore a cheap navy suit and a blue-and-red tie that made some pretense to being silk, but was almost certainly actually polyester. His flaming hair was disheveled, as always, and in the sunlight that poured into the room, his eyes glowed a brilliant and dazzling gold.

  Despite the godawful suit, he was easily the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen in my life. I remembered the feel of him, the taste of him, and the desire for more of him flooded me. I wanted him so badly it hurt. I wanted all of him. His mouth, his skin, his body… and his voice, whispering softly to me.

  Walls, I told myself again, more firmly than before.

  “Get out of my office,” I growled, “or I’ll have Security remove you.”

  He was only two feet away, and he paused, cocking his head again, as if I were a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.

  “If you really want me to leave,” he said softly, “then I’ll leave. I told you last night, Alex. The two of us won’t do anything you don’t want to do. Not ever.”

  The gentle understanding, the compassion, in his voice almost knocked me to my knees. I felt the strange conviction that he understood my fears, the panic that had gripped me this morning upon awakening. All at once I remembered the strange and wonderful events of last night, when I’d stripped off my pajamas at his suggestion, and touched myself freely and without guilt as he murmured dirty suggestions into my ear.

  Despite the costly Zegna suit I wore, I felt every bit as naked now as I had last night, as if his piercing amber eyes could see right down into my soul. It was terrifying… and exhilarating.

  I want you to leave, I tried to say, but the words wouldn’t leave my mouth. I just stood there, staring at him dumbly.

  I didn’t want him to leave. That was the real problem. No matter how much I told myself I wanted him to go… I didn’t.

  He seemed to understand the conflicting emotions that roiled inside me. Slowly, as if I were a half-wild animal that might spook if he moved too quickly, he reached out and took my hand in his. His hand was smaller than mine, but I nevertheless felt the strength in it, calming me. His palm felt warm and soft, and the sensation of it against mine made some of the lonely feeling dissipate.

  He tugged on me, very gently, and somehow I found myself unable to resist. I followed without argument.

  “Sit down,” he said, and to my own surprise, I dropped obediently into the leather swivel chair behind the desk. I sat there, looking up at him, feeling my chest rising and falling heavily. I was panting—with anticipation? With fear? With nerves? Maybe with all three.

  He didn’t make me wait long. He sank gracefully into my lap, straddling my thighs, and my arms automatically slipped around his waist. I wanted to pull him closer, but I didn’t quite dare.

  “All these windows,” he said with a soft laugh, looking around. “No one can see in, right?”

  “Correct,” I answered. “There’s a reflective coating on the glass.”

  “I thought so. From the outside it looks like ice. Like you carved yourself a palace out of a glacier.”

  Walls of ice, I thought. Had I unconsciously designed Snow Tower as a literal barrier between myself and the rest of the world? A symbol of my isolation? I’d still been married back then, and yet I knew that in a way, I’d been every bit as alone then as I was now.

  “It’s almost spring,” he murmured, his voice still low, soft, almost
hypnotic. “Maybe it’s finally time for the ice to melt.”

  He lowered his head, and brushed his lips over the line of my jaw. At the touch of his mouth, I jerked in shock, then let my head fall back, exposing my throat. Surrendering.

  He trailed gentle kisses down the exposed flesh of my throat, so softly it almost tickled, until I found myself shivering. His bright hair brushed against my jawline, soft as silk, and that brought back my imaginings from last night and made me tremble too. Despite the way I’d come during the night, the incredible orgasm I’d experienced, my cock was already hard and throbbing, pressing against its fabric prison, aching for release.

  I wanted to catch him by the hips, let my fingers dig into his ass, and pull him against me. I wanted the sweet relief of friction, the feel of his hard body moving against mine, giving me the pressure I craved.

  I wanted Nash like I’d never wanted anyone.

  But I couldn’t bring myself to clutch at him that way. I was still uncomfortably aware that he was my assistant, and a man besides. The walls I’d built over so many years couldn’t tumble down in an instant. It would take a while. And I appreciated that he wasn’t pushing me to go faster than I was able to.

  He continued dusting light kisses over my throat, while his hands began working on the knot of my tie. He apparently had clever hands, because seconds later he was tossing the tie aside, and beginning to unbutton my shirt. He unfastened two buttons… and groaned. Not a sound of lust, but of annoyance.

  “You’re wearing an undershirt.”

  My eyes flickered open, and I gazed at him in puzzlement. “Of course I am.”

  “I’ve never met anyone who wears so much damn armor,” he grumbled. “What, like a three-piece suit isn’t enough?”

  “A fine suit isn’t armor,” I informed him. “It’s what separates gentlemen from ordinary men.”