Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
QUINN
Date number two, post-ice-cream-melting fiasco.
Maybe not the best way to keep track of our interactions, but those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it and all that.
I arranged everything this time, and I’m hoping my choice of seeing a movie will prevent this encounter from going up in literal flames.
All explosions are to strictly remain on-screen.
And there will be plenty of props going boom, along with manly shouting and knife fights.
I opted for the most action-packed film playing—reason being that I’ll be distracted enough to not focus on the amazing man beside me.
I can use this time to simply get used to being around him.
At least, that’s what I told myself when I ordered the tickets.
I’ll be able to ignore him. I’ll be able to ignore him. I’ll be able to ignore him.
I chant this mantra to myself as August holds open the door to the theater.
“Want to get some snacks?” he asks, tilting his head toward the concession counter.
You mean, do I want something to keep my hands and mouth busy so I don’t try sexually mauling you for the next two hours?
“Yes. Definitely.”
And that’s how August and I end up debating the merits of different movie theater–themed flavors of ice cream.
“Gross. Buttered popcorn ice cream? You can’t be serious.” The giant handful of the real stuff I shove into my mouth after the statement is delicious, but I can’t fathom it in ice cream form.
“I am.” He eats a more socially acceptable amount of kernels. “The main flavors I’d be trying for are butter and salt. People love butter and salt.”
“People also love ketchup. That doesn’t mean they want it frozen in a cone.” The thought makes me want to gag. “And I should tell you now, if you make a ketchup ice cream, I will boycott your shop.” Not that I’ve been going there lately anyway.
Memories of the destruction I caused keep me away.
August grins. “I promise not to make ketchup ice cream, but I think this buttered popcorn idea could work. I’ll have to experiment.”
“Oh no. Dr. Frankenstein is going to create himself a frozen dairy monster.” I smirk at my date as he chuckles.
Unfortunately, the sound of his laughter is more delicious than any of the many snacks we bought. My taste buds tingle, like my ears are connected to my tongue and they demand said tongue lick the lips of the man at my side.
Shoving another massive handful of popcorn in my mouth is like trying to extinguish a bonfire with a Dixie cup of water.
The lights dim, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
But the reprieve doesn’t last long.
Despite us sitting in a dark room, not facing each other, I am completely aware of the guy next to me.
There’s no denying it; August has a presence.
And it’s not just his coolness, which drifts over to me in a teasing caress.
The Ice Elemental has mass. He takes up space, and that aura pushes outside of his skin.
Not like he’s manspreading though. He’s not trying to take my space away from me. It’s more that I cannot ignore that I’m near him. In his space.
The previews aren’t even through, and I want to plaster myself to him. My bones heat to the point of melting until I could easily slip out of my cushy seat to a puddle on the ground.
Now that I think about it, my time on the floor could be very productive. For example, I could get to my knees, move in between his legs, unzip his pants—
Too hot! Warning! Too hot!
I suck down on my straw rather than his dick, hoping the icy soda will help neutralize my heated insides.
Unfortunately, the ice cubes seem to have already melted from their proximity to me, and now I’m grimacing at the taste of watery soda. Not helpful in the slightest.
Then the movie starts, and I discover the inconsiderate director decided to make one of the first scenes that of the muscly, attractive lead actor stepping out of the shower.
Damn the gods. I’m getting bombarded with sexiness from all directions!
A second fiery pulse beats heavy under my skin, and I duck my chin, closing my eyes in hopes I can stifle the powerful force.
But I’m distracted by a deep voice whispering close to my ear, “Quinn? You okay?”
Turns out, August’s low murmur is even sexier than his chuckle. Especially when the puff of his breath stirs the hair at the nape of my neck, bringing with it the scent of Junior Mints, which he’s been consuming since we sat down.
“I’m fine,” I mutter back, not liking the bitter taste of the lie on my tongue, but not sure what else to do. It’s not like I can demand that August be less attractive. Even if he could manage that, the request wouldn’t be fair.
This is my problem to deal with. My dangerously wayward libido to suppress.
The movie rolls on, and a sudden car chase catches my attention. The fast turns and near misses set off little sparks of my adrenaline, but in a completely acceptable way. Then one of the pursuers makes a wrong turn and goes off a cliff, and their car crashes, exploding into a giant fireball.
Reminds me of my orgasm. The thought pops up without prompting.
Then the image sticks, and I’m taken back to the last moment I felt like combusting into a firestorm of lust.
Sprawled out on a table, August thrusting between my legs as he pinched my nipples and groaned my name.
Little pinging noises from my lap draw me out of the erotic memories.
Oh no.
What I thought was an empty bag of popcorn now has a new handful for me to shove into my mouth. Apparently, my heat decided to pop the last few kernels rolling around at the bottom of the bag.
This is not good.
Safe bet I’m one step away from melting the filmstrip. Maybe setting the entire screen on fire.
“We need to go.” Damn the gods and the quiver in my voice.
I’m not usually the hesitant, nervous girl. Maybe I’m not as outrageously unfiltered as my older sister, but I know how to command a room. Confidence is a cape I normally don easily.
But around August, I turn into a mess.
I want to be normal for him. We should be two people who can have a relationship like everyone else in the world. Not that I know exactly what a normal relationship looks like, but I doubt regular couples contain a person who constantly fears their lustful urges.
“Okay.” August doesn’t pester me with questions about why or sigh in disappointment that he’s missing out on the ending of the movie. Instead, he gathers up our drinks and snacks in his big hands and gestures for me to lead the way out of the theater.
This response only makes him more attractive, which in turn makes things worse.
Why do I have to deal with a heat surge just because a guy is acting decent? Is my bar set that low?
From the way my second pulse kicks up, I guess it is.
Luckily, the sun has already set by the time we get outside. Not that a summer night in Phoenix does much to cool me off, but it helps more than the blazing heat of midday would.
“What’s going on?” August asks, his voice gentle as he guides me toward a bench down the street, where we sit side by side.
Do I have to admit this? Didn’t he feel the intense heat radiating off me and know how heavy the danger was looming?
My internal furnace had to have been hard to ignore, especially for a man who runs so cold.
I sit on the bench for less than a second before I’m up, pacing in front of him.
“Quinn?”
“I felt myself getting too hot.” My sandals slap against the blacktop as I work out my irritation with tense steps.
Silence falls between us, and when the lack of noise becomes stifling, I glance at August from the corner of my eye. The guy appears thoughtful, his brow crinkled, digging deep wrinkles into his forehead.
“You wanted to deal with it on your own.” The grooves in his skin disappear as he speaks, like he finally understands something.
Somehow, I stop the agitated movement of my feet, shifting to face him. “Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t I want that?”
August shrugs. “I figured if you were worried, you would ask me for help.”
That has my mouth bobbing. Words fail me as I realize I didn’t consider that option. It was hard enough to admit the problem, much less ask him to be my solution to it.
“I …” The sentence hangs unfinished. I shouldn’t have started speaking until my brain came up with a response.
The Viking ice cream god stretches out his hand, an offering that hangs in the air between us. Inviting me to accept a little bit of something from him now, even if it’s just a molecule of comfort.
After hesitating, I lift my own hand, twining my fingers with his. August tugs enough to let me know what he wants, and I give in, settling in the man’s lap.
“You don’t ask for help much, do you?”
I’ve never really thought about it, but as I consider the idea now, I realize he’s right.
“No. I don’t. Not with this.” A sigh gusts out of me, and I let my head fall to his broad shoulder.
He strokes my thigh, leaving a cool, soothing trail along the path that he touches.
“Can I ask why not?”
My thumb traces over the lines on his palm as I consider how best to describe my hesitance.
“Probably because admitting my powers are getting out of control is the same as admitting I’m super turned on.
And that’s never been a topic I wanted to discuss with people around me. Like my dad or my sisters.”
A firm kiss presses against my hair.
“Do you mind if I know?”
Though confessing my lack of control chafes, I don’t care if August knows how attracted I am to him. “No.”
“So, maybe you could tell me. In the future. And I could help.”
I play around with this idea in my head.
Could I imbue some more confidence into my sexuality, along with some vulnerability?
Wasn’t that the whole point of me going to August’s shop and declaring my intentions? Burning off my dress was a pretty clear statement.
But the whole melting incident tore away at that confidence, leaving me doubting myself all over again.
Still, one stumble doesn’t mean I can’t try to get back on the right path.
That I can’t work hard at controlling this on my own, then ask for some help if I realize I’m struggling.
When I asked August to cool me down in the past, the request was playful.
A way of flirting with him and showing that I liked his powers. But could he be my training partner?
Maybe this doesn’t have to be disappointment after disappointment.
Maybe this could be how I approach learning.
And if August is up for being the teacher’s aide, maybe we could start exploring the topic deeper.