Fire and Ice Read Free

engaged in a brand of humping. My breasts tingle at the thought, and desire grinds low in my sex, stirring my guilt. What kind of sex monster would want to ravage a shivering invalid? I've made myself a hot toddy too, but I'm wondering now whether I should have done. I'm frisky enough already without the alcohol.
    Innes struggles to sit up, and setting the mugs aside, I help him. His skin is burning hot when I put my arm around his shoulder so I can adjust his pillows, and it's almost electrified as my hand slides against it. I jump, and even in his feverish stupor, Innes starts too, his blue eyes wide with surprise. It's almost a relief when we split apart and I scuttle away to get his dressing gown to wrap around him.
    After more struggling, and some coughing, he's sitting up, clutching his mug of toddy. He wrinkles his nose at the first sip, but then takes another longer one. "This isn't my whisky," he observes, still swigging the stuff down.
    "No, it's mine." I taste my own drink, and the sharp/sweet tang of lemon and honey is delicious, even despite the cheap and cheerful whisky. "I knew you'd buy the good stuff, and it's no use drowning posh single malts in a whole bunch of other ingredients."
    Innes manages a grin. "Quite right too. Good thinking, Batman."
    We sip in silence for a while: Innes slumped back in his pillows, his cup cradled on his chest, me perched on a chair a few feet away. Despite the rigors of illness, he still looks irresistible, and it's not a good idea for me to be closer. The idea of that sleek naked body beneath the duvet is still making me feel crazy.
    "So, why no boyfriend?" Innes enquires suddenly. We have the best of working relationships, but we never pry into each other's private lives. It'd be dangerous for me, and Innes is too sensible.
    "I don't know. Nobody seems to be asking at the moment. Well, nobody who I'd be interested in." I drain my toddy, and its heat sinks down through my body to meet the heat rising up from my sex, the heat fired by Innes being so close.
    "Men are fools," says Innes, setting his own drink aside.
    I laugh, loving the strange closeness between us. It's sweet, even allowing for my sexual frustration. "Indeed they are, boss. Indeed they are."
    He gives me an odd look, and mutters, "And I'm probably the biggest fool amongst them." Then his eyelids flutter, and he seems to drift off to sleep.
    I wonder what to do. I know what I want to do, which is climb beneath the duvets with Innes and see if a bit of hands-on physical therapy can cure him. But instead I've got to find a distraction from those thoughts. I don't want to leave the room, but I can't risk turning on the flat screen television on the wall in case I wake him. In the end, I switch off the lamp furthest away from me, and by the light of the closer one, I flick through a book that Innes appears to have been reading. It's a collection of pithy anecdotes by a controversial motoring journalist, and it's really funny when I get stuck into it. From time to time, I spring to red alert, when Innes stirs, but after a while, the toddy gets to me too, and I drift off to sleep, book on lap.
    I don't know how long I doze, but I wake with a lurch, disturbed by a sound. I glance immediately towards Innes, and he's moving, tugging at his covers. He's obviously just shuffled back from the bathroom, because one of the quilts is on the floor, and he doesn't seem to have the energy to restore it to the bed. It's also colder than ever in the room, even though I'm still wearing my outdoor jacket. Darting across to check my patient, I find him half awake, half asleep, and muttering under his breath. Where he was hot before, he's now icy-cold and clammy. I wonder whether he has a hot water bottle somewhere, but he doesn't seem the type for one, and even if he was, I've no idea where he'd keep it. I conduct a cursory search while I'm in the bathroom, but I feel awkward rummaging about amongst his belongings without