Whispers on the Ice by Elizabeth Moynihan Read Free Book Online Page B

hadn’t the luxury of removal, despite the threatened self-removal with an electric knife, and the dark circles beneath his eyes stated clearly his sleep was anything but peaceful.
    “You just keep in mind how much you hate that chair when they take that boat anchor off your leg. You may decide it’s not so bad being sidelined and find yourself another mountain to jump off of,” Jordan groaned in relief, silencing the buzzer that announced this portion of her workout over.
    Aleksei raised one eyebrow sardonically, throwing the towel that she had draped over his cast leg to her and dropping the magazine to the floor. “I can’t imagine being side-lined another day. The last thing I intend to do is ‘find myself another mountain to jump off of!’” he growled, pushing himself easily up and limping over to where she leaned against the wall. Wiping her face dry and draping the towel around her neck, the ends rested loosely against the damp, pink skin of her chest, enticingly displayed by the scoop neck of her leotard.
    Aleksei’s gaze was drawn to a lone drop of sweat that left a trail of moistness as it coursed its way down her long neck and ever closer to the swelling cleavage displayed above her leotard. Unconsciously, he licked suddenly dry lips as his mind brought the image of his tongue following the same path as the slowly moving drop of moisture to his mind, making his breath slow and shallow. Jordan’s repeated question finally drew his attention.
    “What?” he mumbled, shaking his head to clear the picture from his mind.
    “I said, when does that thing come off?” she inquired again, nodding toward the cast, then stretching around him to retrieve her water bottle from the table he leaned against. The softness of her leotard-clad breast as it brushed against his shoulder made him grind his teeth in building frustration.
    “Not that I’m anxious, but one hour and thirteen minutes, give or take a few seconds,” he answered, glancing quickly at the gold watch he always wore, a gift from Whittaker.
    Jordan laughed softly, the sound sweet and carefree. “You won’t miss it?” she teased, giving the cast a fond pat.
    “About as much as I miss single beds.”
    I didn’t know you knew there was such as a thing as a single bed,” Jordan questioned haughtily; raising deep green eyes to meet Aleksei’s calm, dark ones.
    “I’m perfectly aware there are such things, I just happen to prefer a bed with more room.”
    “Yeah, I don’t suppose your friends would appreciate having to share a small sleeping area.”
    “When I have friends sharing my ‘sleeping area’, they generally aren’t sleeping!” Aleksei taunted, chucking her chin as if she were a two-year old.
    “Hands off!” Jordan complained and swatted his hand away. “You may have another hour and thirteen minutes to screw off, but I’ve still got arms to do.” and off she walked to the next torture machine.
    “Why don’t you hold off on arms and let me get a few lifts in. That way you can’t complain that I didn’t do anything today,” Aleksei suggested, limping over to a large mat set before a wall of mirrors.
    Carefully he lowered himself to the mat, removed his sweatshirt leaving only a cut-off T-shirt that showed off his muscle-toned stomach and laid on his back, stretching his arms over his head, displaying even more of his wash-board stomach. Jordan watched him quietly, frowning when he looked expectantly her way and stated, “Well?”
    “Do you really think it’s a good idea to get all sweaty when you’re going to the doctor in an hour? The nurses really don’t deserve that kind of treatment.”
    “Stop stalling. I promise I won’t sweat ,” Aleksei growled, snapping his fingers impatiently.
    Jordan slowly made her way to him, stepped carefully over his legs to straddle his narrow hips, then cautiously dropped to a kneeling position and leaned forward to place her hands on the floor above his shoulders.
    “Ready?”