Page 121 of Icebound Hearts

“You’re jealous.”

I flinch. “I’m not.”

He tilts his head, stepping closer. “Liar.”

I glare at him, hating how easily he sees through me. “I don’t care who you spend your time with, Aiden.”

His lips twitch, but it’s not a smile. It’s something darker. “Right. That’s why you’ve been looking at me all night like you want to rip me apart.”

I exhale sharply, pressing my hands against the wall behind me.

“You’re imagining things.”

Aiden leans in, voice dangerously low. “Say it again. Maybe you’ll start believing it.”

I hate how easily he undoes me. How I can’t lie to him without him seeing right through it. I hate seeing girls around him but more than anything, I hate how scared I am to lose him,

“I can’t do this anymore.” My voice trembles, barely above a whisper, yet it shatters the silence between us. My hands curl into fists at my sides as I force myself to meet his eyes—those damn eyes that have been both my solace and my undoing.

“I can’t keep pretending that I don’t care. That I don’t feel this… this unbearable pull toward you. It’s exhausting, fighting something that’s already consumed me whole.”

I take a shaky breath, feeling the weight of every unsaid word pressing against my ribs.

“I’ve spent so long convincing myself that I was fine without you, that I didn’t need anyone. That if I just kept my walls high enough, no one could hurt me. But then you came along and ruined that—ruined me.”

“You made me feel things I didn’t want to feel, and I hate you for it. I hate you because you made me want you. And God, I want you so much it scares me.”

My eyes burn, but I refuse to let the tears fall. Not yet.

“You are the first person who’s ever seen me—really seen me. And instead of running, instead of turning away from all my broken pieces, you stayed. No one’s ever done that before.” A bitter laugh escapes my lips. “I don’t know how to love someone without destroying myself in the process, but if there’s one person, I’d be willing to fall apart for, it’s you.”

I step closer now, my voice cracking, raw and unfiltered.

“I love you. I love you so much it hurts. And if you don’t feel the same, if this—whatever this is—means nothing to you, if you already moved on, then tell me. Lie to me if you have to. But if there’s even the smallest part of you that feels this too… don’t let me go.” Tears run down my cheek, but Aiden doesn’t speak. He just stares at me, like he’s trying to commit every inch of me to memory, like he’s making sure this isn’t some cruel joke.

Then he takes three steps towards me, his hands tangling themselves in my hair.

One second, I’m standing there, heart racing in my throat, and the next, his lips crash into mine. The kiss is fire, desperate and raw, hands tangling in my hair, gripping me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear. I don’t hold back. I can’t. My fingers dig into his shirt, pulling him closer, as if I could fuse us together, as if I could make up for every second, I spent trying to push him away. Aiden groans against my mouth, his hands sliding downmy sides, gripping my waist, lifting me until my back is pressed against the wall.

I gasp against his lips, and he devours the sound, his body pressing flush against mine.

“I can’t stand you,” I whisper between kisses, my voice wrecked.

Aiden smirks against my mouth. “Yes, you can.”

I bite his lip, just to prove a point, and he growls, pushing me harder against the wall, making my breath catch.

Heat flares between us, consuming, unbearable. I arch into him, needing more, needing everything.

His tongue slipped between my lips, tracing over my teeth,

teasing my tongue, and my brain stuttered into slow motion. I noticed everything— the scratch of his stubble against my cheek, the heat of his lips on mine, the taste of him. Mint and orange, like he’d chewed gum after downing a Fanta. It shouldn’t have been so hot, but it was— the taste, the scent, the sensation of him pressed against me. It made a soft whimper rise in my throat.

“Are you okay?”

He pulled back just enough to search my face, his eyes dark with something I couldn’t name, something cautious and consuming all at once. Later, I would think about how movies always show men taking without asking, and how that’s supposed to be romantic. But this? This moment of checking, of knowing I wanted this too? It was more erotic than any frantic, desperate grab could ever be. How could i not love him? Not that I didn’t want him desperate. I wanted him to lose himself in this, to take and to give, to press me so hard into the mattress that I’d feel it tomorrow. But knowing that he cared if I was okay— not just in general, but in this moment, right now— was powerful.

“More,” I whispered.

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