Page 111 of Frozen Hearts
I’m literally dressed up as his wet dream right now.
Fuck Grayson and his stupid shitty ideas!
Logan’s eyes lift to mine, and I can tell he’s also recalling that moment in the library. Our frayed and bruised connection flares with newfound life, that ever-present chemistry sizzling between us before Grayson interrupts.
“Well, what are you waiting for?”
Ripping my gaze from Logan’s, I huff out a breath and move to the pole. Forcing thoughts of all of them from my mind, I close my eyes and turn my focus inward, concentrating on my body and the song as I begin to move.
Grayson may think that this is degrading or humiliating for me, but what he doesn’t realize is that dancing is my happy place. It’s the one time when I can tune out the rest of the world and simply be. Me, my body, and the music in tandem.
I fall into such a deep trance that I fail to notice when the music abruptly cuts off. A sharp tug on my arm causes me to stumble and I snap my eyes open, finding Grayson glowering down at me. “Why the fuck are you smiling?”
I was? I hadn’t even realized.
“I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to do that. Any other rules I’m not aware of that you’d like to point out?”
His jaw tics with his irritation, and I find it extremely satisfying.
“Just fucking dance,” he growls, remaining in place in front of me.
“Without smiling?” I ask, making it sound as though I’m clarifying when really I just want to poke at him some more.
“Yes.” The word comes out in a low, barely contained hiss as the threads of his control sever.
“Got it.” I throw him a cheeky wink, knowing I’m playing with fire before I go back to my dance. However, he doesn’t return to his seat, instead remaining directly in front of me. I can feel his presence like a breeze against my skin, making it impossible for me to get lost in the music.
I end up staring into his face as I put on a performance. One that feels far more intimate than it did a minute ago. The irony isn’t lost on me that all these years later, I have Grayson’s undivided attention. And it’s just as potent as I knew it would be. Terrifying and intoxicating.
There’s no denying, I might know how to get under his skin, but he’s also capable of getting under mine.
The air grows cloying until Grayson’s presence presses against my skin like a physical force, compressing my lungs until it becomes a struggle to breathe.
Just when I think I’m about to break beneath the pressure, Grayson growls before turning on his heel and storming from the room.
“Wow,” Logan murmurs. “That was intense.”
Royce grunts out an agreement, and tearing my eyes from the now empty doorway, I turn to find him frowning as he stares at a point on the wall. After a second, he shakes his head, muttering something too low for me to hear, before following Grayson. “I’m out,” he calls over his shoulder when he reaches the threshold, before disappearing altogether.
Left alone in the room with Logan, the air thickens with tension.
“I’m not dancing for you,” I snap, crossing my arms across the front of my chest.
Seeming to accept that, Logan nods, still looking at me with far too much intimacy for someone who supposedly hates me. Pushing to his feet, he makes a point of walking right by me as he heads for the door, and it’s possible that I’m mistaken, but I’d swear I hear him murmur, “So beautiful,” as he passes.
29
RILEY
Iwasn’t left on my own for long last night before Royce came in to lock me back in my cell—AKA tie me up to the stripper pole. When I protested, he said they couldn’t trust me not to run off while they slept, which, I get. However, I was still wearing the stupid cheerleader outfit which I wasn’t about to run outside in, especially without any shoes, and in the middle of winter.
I want to escape, but not badly enough to risk frostbite or hypothermia. I wouldn’t jeopardize my chance to spend time with my daughter on Christmas Day, nor my ability to dance, by getting sick or losing a couple of toes.
Regardless, I was left with no choice while he tied me up, and I’m blaming the hard floor and cold draft for my sour mood today.
“Here you go.” Royce tosses my clothes at me, and I give them a sniff.
“You could at least have washed them.”
