Page 23 of Hotter on Ice

“I think the server said it’s caviar paste for the boiled egg.” He gave her that little twitch of a smile. “Because you said you were up for anything.”

She lifted an eyebrow at him. “I might actually like it. My mother used to eat stuff like this when I was a kid. I think it’s a Russian thing, too.”

She got to work peeling her egg, and the room was quiet again. Alya peeked up at him, that stoic expression back on his face. What was he thinking about? He wasn’t regretting last night, was he?

“We’re okay, right?”

He blinked at her, his gaze filled with...irritation? Confusion? She pressed on.

“I mean, after last night, I just want to make sure—”

“Of course we are,” he said, his voice gruff.

Of course they were. Sex didn’t have to be followed with the avalanche of drama that came with her mother’s boyfriends or Nick or any of the other unhealthy relationships that had blanketed her life. It could just be sex. She bit her lip and focused on her egg.

But before she got a bite into her mouth, Henning had stood up and was making his way around the table. He tapped the front of her chair, and she scooted it out to face him. Then he knelt in front of her, between her legs. He was a big man, big enough so that down on his knees, they were the same height. He settled his hands on her thighs. The gesture was warm and possessive and everything her mind needed to read too much into it.

“I’m not good at this, Alya,” he said, gesturing between them. “Even before I...” He looked away, retreating. She lifted her hand to his left cheek, running her fingers down his scars, letting him know she understood, that he didn’t need to say it if he didn’t want to. He let out a long breath, swallowed, and looked back at her. “I’m sorry if I’ve done something that makes you feel anything less than incredible. Because that’s what you deserve.”

She blinked at him, stunned. For someone who didn’t like talking, he really struck gold when he chose to speak. His statement was so direct, so opposite of what she had come to expect. Maybe it was that newly found space to simply think and feel for a bit, without distractions, or maybe it was all the orgasms, but when Alya found Henning’s steady gaze on her, his dark eyes so clearly telling her he was there for her, all her worries just flowed out.

“The short interviews they’re doing for the documentary—at some point, it’s not going to be fun,” she said. “I know the woman is going to ask me about all the things Nick said about me, especially about leaving Los Angeles because I was buckling under pressure. Maybe she’ll ask today, maybe tomorrow. And I have to decide how much to say about it.”

Henning’s jaw clenched at the sound of her ex-boyfriend’s name, but he nodded and waited for her to continue.

“I’ve worked so hard to get to this point, where I’m not steering my life around him, even from across the Pacific.” She blew out a breath. “But if I’m not careful, he can still get to me. With the film crew here and the publicity this is getting, I start to worry he’ll do something to get attention. And he may do that.” She frowned. “But I have to learn how to shift my own focus.”

God, she never talked about this kind of thing with anyone except Natasha. And these days, Natasha was too busy to talk much. But now that she was saying this aloud, she could feel how much these worries were weighing on her. But, ugh, this was not the sexy fling he’d signed up for.

“Sorry for the overshare,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’m just a little nervous.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, and he sounded almost angry. But he winced as soon as the words left his mouth, and grumbled something under his breath. Henning’s eyes were stormy, though she was almost sure it had everything to do with Nick, not her. His voice was softer when he continued. “You’re an incredible woman, so strong. But that doesn’t mean you can’t voice your worries. I’m listening.”

He blew out a breath and looked down at his own fingers, now pressing into her thighs. He loosened them, stroking gently up and down. “So if that interviewer catches you off guard, you’re worried you’ll say something that will trigger harassment from Nick.”

She smiled a little. “Yeah, basically. But in my head it doesn’t sound nearly as reasonable.”

He opened his mouth as if to speak, then shook his head. He started again. “You want me to come with you to the interview? Glare at the woman if she asks about your private life?”

He was joking, but Alya was trying to ignore how good that idea sounded. She shook her head. “I can handle it.”

“I know you can handle it,” he said, his voice serious. “I’m just asking if you want someone to share that burden, just for a little while.”

She lifted her hand to his cheek. “I think that’s just about the nicest offer any guy has given me.”

“Sounds like you need to check your taste in men,” he grumbled. “You should be hearing that every day.”

She smiled a little and tilted her head, considering his words. “You must keep your girlfriends very happy.”

“There are no girlfriends for me,” he said flatly.

“Never?”

“Not anymore.”

She wanted to kiss him so badly. Henning watched her lips as she spoke, like he, too was thinking about kissing. So she did it, leaning forward, brushing her lips over his. His hands moved up her thighs, around her hips to cup her ass. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and the relief flowed through her. She kissed him again, and his lips were full of aching desire, like he was giving her a glimpse at just how happy he was making her right now.

CHAPTER SEVEN