Her Man with Iceberg Eyes by Kris Pearson

ice.
    “Just some sandwiches,” Matthew said. “Katie
had very little breakfast, and it’s almost lunchtime. I thought you
could both do with them.”
    She lounged there, stunned, exposed, and
embarrassed beyond belief. She dared not move and upset the pose
for Lottie. Or display herself still further to Matthew.
    Neither could she possibly stay like this
with him in the room. Obviously he’d crept up the stairs instead of
using the elevator. The predator had caught his prey.
    She flinched as something touched her foot.
She jerked her head sideways. He stood right there, far too close.
And he gently lowered a soft concealing bed-sheet over her. She
closed her eyes.
    “Thank you,” she whispered.
    He stepped away, out of sight. She heard him
set down a plate and glass for Lottie, then he moved back in her
direction, pulled a hard-backed chair across, and sat, knees apart,
so he could move in close. One hand held a half full tumbler of
wine and the other a plate of tiny bite sized sandwiches. He
propped a drinking straw into the tumbler and raised it to her
mouth. She drank gratefully. He fed her the tiny ham and camembert
sandwiches one by one, with sips of wine between each. She barely
needed to move—the pose would not be ruined.
    “So what do you think of the studio?”
    It was such a normal question that she could
have been walking through town with him instead of lying naked
under a thin sheet.
    She did her best to find some insouciance.
“Extraordinary. It must be wonderful for Lottie to have everything
she needs so close.”
    “And quite a few things she doesn’t need.”
    “Yes. Well.” That had Kate at a loss for
further words.
    “You can see why she needs her own
Superwoman. She’s an artist, not an organiser.”
    Kate nodded silently, opening her mouth so he
could slide the final tiny sandwich in. Matthew held it just out of
reach. She glanced up at him. He ran his tongue around his top lip
and she snapped her mouth shut.
    “I thought you were being nice to me now,”
she hissed.
    “You’ll know when I’m being nice to you,
Katie. You’ll know when I’m being a lot more than nice .” His
reply was the softest whisper, inaudible to Lottie, fifteen feet
away. He held out the little sandwich and she opened her mouth for
him again. He tucked it in very slowly, pushing it home with his
forefinger, intruding, invading, entering right into her body. She
closed her lips around the finger and bit, quite hard.
    He smiled, tolerating the pain until she
released him. He licked his finger clean. Still holding her eyes,
he drew up the last mouthful of wine through the straw and
swallowed it. She watched the muscles and tendons moving in his
strong golden neck, thinking that she could strangle him for his
game.
    He glanced across at Lottie, and apparently
finding her turned away, bent and kissed Kate swiftly on her
relaxed and unsuspecting mouth.
    She froze rigid. Made no sound. Didn’t move a
fraction to draw any attention to what he had done. And continued
to lie there stunned as he drew the sheet off her body again in a
soft and devastating caress.
    He’d take a chance like that? In front of
Lottie?
    The danger had a powerful effect on Kate.
Every tiny hair on her flesh stood up. Her skin tingled and
twitched. Her arms and legs felt lead-heavy—there was no way she
could jump to her feet and flee.
    Her mouth burned, tasting of wine and
surprise and wanting.
    The insistent throb was back in her belly—but
worse—warmer and wilder than before. Her blood pulsed, thick and
heavy. She felt it travelling around her body, making her heart
pump harder, stiffening her nipples and preparing a welcome between
her thighs.
    This was outrageous! She had no answer for
such arrogance. Well—none that she dared acknowledge. If he really
wanted her, she knew she now had very little resistance left. And
she could never ever let him know that.
    Lottie moved her plate out of the way. Kate
heard it scrape across the