Page 157 of Ice Princess

“We arenoton opposite sides of this fight,” she says, her voice low and earnest. “I trust you, Gunner. But I’m not ready to ask you to choose me over your family.” Rebel licks her lips. “Maybe it’s because I’m afraid of the choice you’d make…” Her eyes dart away. “Or maybe it’s because I don’t think I’m deserving of being chosen either.”

My gaze snaps to hers and, for a fleeting moment, I feel the weight of those words like an anchor driving me deep into the core of the earth.

“It took a lot of courage to come back and tell you that, but we promised we’d be honest with each other. And that’s honestly how I feel.”

“I understand,” I say, wishing I could give her the assurance she needs.

But I can’t say more.

I don’t dare to.

Because she’s mistaken.

The choice that will determine our future isn’t one I’ll make between my family and Rebel.

It’s a choice Rebel will have to make between my family… and me.

True terror seeps through me when I think of hernotchoosing us. It’s so real, that I push out of the window, cradle her chin in my palm and kiss her while I still can.

The touch of my lips on hers is featherlight, the faintest whisper, a question rather than a claim. My fingers slide over her neck and tangle in her long, blonde hair. I tilt my head, slowing the pace of my strokes and letting my eyes squeeze shut.

I want to remember everything about her, about this moment.

The slight hitch of her breath as my mouth grazes across her strawberry-sweet lips.

The citrusy scent of her carried on the breeze.

The way her hair falls like a silky waterfall over my knuckles.

Rebel kisses me back, balancing herself on the running board and wrapping her arms around the back of my neck.

I stroke her mouth with mine and tilt her head to sip from her one more time before backing off. Not too far though. My breath mingles with hers, the connection between us fragile but achingly real.

Rebel pulls her lips into her mouth as if to savor the lingering buzz of the kiss.

I could sit here, staring at her through the window, all day. But a whistle erupts behind us. A few mechanics are gathered at the door of the garage and they’re staring our way.

I scowl and Rebel ducks her head self-consciously.

“Call me,” I demand gruffly.

“I will.”

“I’ll bring lunch after your meeting.”

That earns me a bigger smile.

Rebel hops off the running board and sends me a tiny wave before hurtling back to her truck.

The tightness in my chest fades a bit as I watch her back out of the lot.

Maybe there’s hope for us.

Maybe we reallycanget through this with our relationship intact.

Just then, my phone chirps.

I answer distractedly. “Hello?”

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