Page 54 of Cinderella Is Faking It

“Did you touch the keypad by the door?” he asked.

My face fell at the exact moment he freed my head from its fabric prison. “Sorry,” I breathed, looking up into a pair of dark storm gray eyes, ringed in perfect black lashes, that pierced down into me with enough intensity to cool every blood cell that had been boiling five minutes ago. He lifted my shirt higher, palms sliding over my arms and elbows and just when I was supposed to be free, a sharp pain shot through my wrists as they were yanked together by a twist of fabric. I hissed, eyes snapping up to where Beck had tied my hands together and still held them above my head. “I was looking for the thermostat,” I said as ifthatwas important when he had me pinned in place like that, but my brain was still playing catch-up. “What are you doing exactly?” My voice hitched in my throat, as the anxiety started to trickle in.

“Tying up the intruder who broke into my house,” he replied, the corner of his mouth quirking up. One hand still on bound hands, the other on my waist, he pushed me back a step, hooking the shirt around the top of the refrigerator handle. My back pressed against the cool edge of the freezer, cold coating my damp skin on one side, while his hand seared my waist on the other. He had me tied up. His words finally clicked. My shirt had become a handcuff and I was in a bra and bike shorts, and he was standing over me, eyes drinking in my body so shamelessly, every muscle in my stomach tightened. “I’m glad I didn’t send building security to check the alarm.”

“I haven’t really gotten to the roleplay section of my research yet,” my voice trembled, “and I don’t think we should try that because if I were an intruder and you tied me up, does that mean we were waiting for the police? Would I only do you sexual favors in hopes of being let go to avoid jail? And why did I break in in the first place? Am I stealing for self-preservation? What’s my backsto-ah.” He shoved something hard and cold into my mouth and closed his hand over it. So even though my first instinct was to spit it back out, I couldn’t. Alarm spiked through me, immediately replaced by just one thought:Cold.

“Suck,” Beck growled.

I had to. There was nothing I could do but swirl the ice cubes around on my tongue, hoping they would dissolve faster, hoping the cold would ease up, instead it seeped through my gums and numbed the insides of my cheeks.

I stared up at him, drawing ragged air through my nose as I tried to breathe through the cold.

“Did you know the human body is not equipped to deal with the sudden onset of cold? You can ward off a panic attack with a single ice cube to the wrist, because your survival instincts will overpower your brain.”

I whimpered under his hand because the ice cubes had barely melted, and my mouth was justcoldto a point my temples began aching and goose bumps raced down my neck.

A single other sensation broke through the frosted haze: His knuckles grazing down my stomach, hard against my soft flesh.

“Do you need me to stop?” he asked.

His question swam through my mind as I swallowed melted water. It ran an icy path from my throat down to the pit of my stomach.

“Do you need me to stop?” he asked again, knuckles trailing up and down the dip of my belly. I shook my head, and squeezed my eyes shut against the ice cubes hitting my teeth.

“Stomp your foot if you want to stop, understand?”

Stomp my foot? I furrowed my brows trying to find the synapses in my brain that controlled my feet. I flexed my toes, testing. Okay, okay. Stomping. I could stomp. I nodded and winced when more ice water trickled down my throat.

Beck’s hand slid into my pants and my eyes flew open. His eyes were on me, black pupils bleeding into dark irises, watching my face as he unceremoniously slid a finger into me. My muscles tensed and my instinct to squeak was cut short by my tongue inadvertently pushing the ice cubes against the roof of my mouth. The brain freeze drowned any other sensation.

The moment the cold fog cleared a little, my hips jerked, low pressure building between my legs. Beck’s finger pumped in and out, his thumb rubbing my clit. I wasn’t even sure when he’d started that. Fuck. My waist tilted for him, each thrust pulling against my restraints, fabric digging into my wrists. The pain barely registered against the heat pooling for him.

He pushed a second finger into me, stretching me. My walls ached, struggling to accommodate the new thrusts but before I could dwell on the pain, I clamped my mouth shut tighter, the shrinking ice cubes biting into my gums.Cold.

Between the fire building under his touch and the frozen thoughts, I feltit.The low hum of promise. The climb before the roller coaster dropped you over the edge. I’d been this close before. It was always the edge, never the drop.

“Let it go.”

Of course, he made a fucking Frozen reference in the middle of fingering me against his freezer, ice cubes in my mouth.

I stiffened as the clarity of that thought broke through and swallowed. Water. Not ice cubes. My eyes flew up to my favorite t-shirt, all stretched out and twisted and ruined. He had me tied to his kitchen, mouth clamped shut, fingering me against his fucking freezer, and I was supposed tolet it go?!

I stomped my foot. Hard.

Beck stopped mid-thrust, hand falling off my mouth immediately. I gasped for air as he freed his other hand from the entanglement of my underwear and bike shorts. Before I could even get a word out, my hands fell to my sides, my shirt in his hands. My arms were numb and tingling, fingers burning as blood rushed back into them. I stared at my wrists and the fabric lines etched deep into my skin. It looked more painful than it had felt.

“What happened?” Beck asked after a moment when I still didn’t look up. His voice was way gentler than I deserved.

“The ice cubes melted,” I replied, throat raw from the cold. “Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

I dragged my eyes up to meet his. He leaned against the inside of his freezer door, top buttons of his white shirt undone, and sleeves rolled up, but otherwise still dressed for business. He’d really just come home from the office. “Because I couldn’t do it.”

“Do what?”

“Stop acting stupid,” I huffed and snatched my shirt from his hands, “it doesn’t suit you.” The shirt went on easier than it had come off but that was mostly due to the fact that it was about twice as wide as it had been three ice cubes ago.

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