Mills and Boon Christmas Joy Collection. Liz Fielding

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      He wasn’t trapped at all. He might not have a full range of motion, but he could still hold on to her waist, which he did. But she stepped back and put her finger right in the center of his chest. “Why don’t you go sit on the bed?”

      He laughed again, that jolt of lust and joy taking him by surprise. And he did what she asked, slowly working his hands to free them as he sat. As soon as his hands were free, he leaned back on his elbows and arched one eyebrow as he looked over at her. “Okay, now what?”

      “Hmm...let me see.” She moved forward, straddled him on the bed and brought her mouth down hard on his. She sucked his tongue into her mouth, and everything inside him came to attention as she nipped his tongue and then abruptly stood. “Take off your T-shirt.”

      “Take off your dress. I’m dying to see what you look like without it.”

      “Can I keep my tiara on?” she asked impishly.

      “Definitely. I think the Ice Queen should always wear her crown.”

      She stepped away, shimmied out of her dress and then let her bra slowly slide down her torso, pulling first one arm free and then the other and dangling it from one finger. She stood there with that cool Nordic beauty. His gorgeous ice queen, very sure of herself and her appeal.

      He started to get up, but she wagged her finger at him. “Did I say you could move?”

      “I think you’re going to want me to move,” he told her.

      “Not yet.”

      He sank back on the bed and grimaced as his slacks cut into his erection. He shifted and then thought, To hell with it, and unzipped his pants, pushing them down his legs.

      “You look good, Carter. You could be an underwear model.”

      He’d done a few ads in his day, but lately he preferred to keep some things for himself and his lovers. His body was one of them. He stood and slowly pulled the hem of his T-shirt up past his abdomen as he closed the gap between them. She reached out and traced the tattoo on his left side. Her fingers were warm and seeking as they moved over him.

      The design disappeared into the top of his boxer briefs, and she pulled the elastic waistband away from his skin, pushing the side of the briefs down so she could see the entire thing.

      “Is this a mountain?”

      “Yes. Nagano.”

      “Why Nagano?”

      He let out a groan. “Now? You want to talk now?” he asked, painfully aware that he could barely string together two words as she leaned lower to examine his ink. Her beautiful, lush breasts swayed forward and her breath brushed over his hip. She was so close to his cock, he could only think of twisting his hips so that he could feel her touch where he desired it most.

      “I guess not. But later,” she said, “I want to know more about it.”

      “Later,” he growled, cupping her breasts, rubbing his palm over the center of her nipples and gently fondling them.

      She caressed his upper body and pushed the T-shirt up and over his head. He stopped stroking her as she tossed it aside. Again she put her hand in the center of his chest and pushed against him. He walked backward until he felt the edge of the bed at the back of his thighs, and put his arm around her waist, dragging her forward with him as he sat. Inhaling her sweet, womanly scent, he pulled her onto his lap so she straddled him.

      She reached up and did something with her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders as she leaned forward. Staring at him with passion-glazed eyes, she cupped his face, rubbed her fingers through his short stubble and then leaned down to kiss him. Not a dominating one, as earlier, but one that promised that the games were over. He held her close to him with one hand on her hip, and let his other hand caress her, starting at the back of her neck and then slowly moving down the back of her spine. He felt her shiver as he traced his way around the tiny indentation right above her buttocks.

      He caressed her hips, and she rocked forward against him, then winced. Her knee. He’d forgotten that she’d injured it a year ago. He scooted back on the bed and rolled them onto their sides so they were facing each other.

      “Sorry,” she whispered.

      “Hey, gorgeous,” he said, lightly running his hand down the side of her body over her curves. “It’s okay. How’s the knee?”

      “Fine. It was just the angle.”

      “Then let’s find a better angle,” he suggested. “One where we don’t have to think about anything but each other.”

      She nodded. But the confidence that had been driving her had waned. He could read it in her eyes. “I guess I’m in charge now.”

      Just as he suspected, the thought of the power shift was enough to nudge any embarrassment Lindsey had over her knee out of her subconscious. She gave him an arched look, raised herself up onto her elbow and put her finger to the middle of his chest again.

      “Not so fast.” She leaned over him, slowly following the pattern of his chest hair as it narrowed down his belly and disappeared into the top of his boxer briefs. Then she dipped her finger under the elastic and brushed the tip of his cock, and his hips jerked forward.

      He breathed in and out, struggling to stay in control. Then he reached for her and mimicked her caress. He started in the middle of her chest and traced his finger down around each of her breasts, and then lower to her belly button. He drew a small circle around it and then leaned over to trace the path with his mouth. But he lingered at her breasts, catching her nipple in his mouth and sucking as he continued to fondle her belly button.

      She pushed her hand into his underwear and slid her hand up and down his shaft. He shivered in response, felt as though he was going to lose it, but instead rocked himself against her touch. He liked it. Her fingers were long, and she wrapped them around his length, stroking up and down within the confines of his underwear.

      He lifted his lips from her breast to move lower, kissing each of her ribs, and her hand slid off him as he did so. She let her fingers drift up his body and around to his back. Caressing the area near his tattoo, her fingers moved gently over the imprint as he tongued her belly button and then dipped his head lower. He peeled her underwear over her hips and down her long legs, stopping to kiss the scars at her knee, and then tossed them to the floor.

      He shoved his own briefs off, ready to be totally naked.

      “Are you on the pill?” he asked.

      “What?” She seemed dazed, and he realized that he’d jarred her.

      “Are you protected from pregnancy?”

      She nodded. “Are you clean?”

      Fair question, given his reputation, but still... “Yes. Are you?”

      “Of course,” she said.

      “Good.”

      He moved so that he could take her ankles in his hands to raise her legs. He smiled as she propped herself up on her elbows.

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