Page 63 of Ice To Meet You

“Ouch,” he growled, pulling his arm away.

“I'm sorry!”

Our eyes met, but before he could respond, another gust of wind spun us around. The pressure increased at my waist, and I looked down. We were hanging in midair—groin to groin—Matteo’s legs wrapped around me.

I sucked in a breath. His body was far too close for comfort. “Non!”I said, pushing at his solid thighs, trying to release myself.

He stilled my efforts. “Careful. Don’t push too hard or we’ll tangle. I’ll let you go.”

He slowly released his legs, sending me what I swear was a look of pure heat. I bit my lip, pushing down the tingle it sent to the lowest part of my belly. How could being sweaty—and hanging twenty meters above the hard earth—be any kind of sexy?

But as a warning went off in my body, three words flashed through my brain again.

Fight or flight. Definitely flight.

Being joined at the groin with the sexiest man I’d met in years—a man who worked for me, was on the younger side, and the treasured grandson of a potential investor—would do neither of us any good.

As I tried to spin the other way, I jiggled in my harness, pushing my hips forward like I was dry humping the air. The movement brought a fresh sear of pain at my bottom, and I hissed.

Immediately, Matteo’s hand was on my arm. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just … my shorts,” I mumbled, cheeks flaming. “They might be … a bit high.”

Matteo smirked. “How high?”

I rolled my eyes. “For all I know, they could’ve disappeared completely or torn to shreds.”

“I’ll check,” he said, leaning over.

“Don’t look!” I squealed. Bringing my hands down to cover my buttocks.

“Someone should assess the damage,” he teased. “It’s a matter of risk management. I can’t have you up here without full safety equipment.”

“Safety equipment?”

He grinned. “Clothes.”

I glared. “Can you do it subtly? I don’t want to draw more attention.”

He glanced down at the growing crowd. “I’d say it’s too late. They’re definitely pointing at something.”

“Are they pointing at my?—”

Matteo leaned over and I shut my eyes, submitting to the humiliation.

With a clunk of his harness, he became vertical again.

“Well?”

He sent me a wicked grin. “Let’s just say it’s not the forest they’re admiring.”

I groaned, my whole-body filling with heat. I prayed to the gods, any god, to point a heavenly finger and explode me into a “poof” of glitter.

Matteo’s tone softened, and he looked at me from under his long lashes. “For what it’s worth, and from where I’m hanging, the view is spectacular.”

My heart skipped. But who had time for flirtation? Now that Matteo had arrived, the chatter below had escalated. Perhaps the excitement wasn't about my bottom after all—maybe the arrival of “MattitudeX” had whipped them into a frenzy.

Another gust of wind barrelled into us, and I hung onto my pulley for dear life. The squall tossed me around like a wind chime in a hurricane. One person below us whistled and pointed above our heads, then to the all too distant platform.

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