Page 121 of Frozen Hearts
His heat sears into my back, and I can feel his erection pressing into my ass as his fingers trace patterns on my flesh right above my panties.
My breath hitches with every flex of his fingers, and IknowI shouldn’t be allowing this to happen, but he’s right. Ididenjoy it, at least until Grayson opened his big, fat mouth and ruined it.
Flattening his palm against my skin, he drags his hand upward, over my abdomen, and along my ribs until he cups a heavy tit in his hand. My head falls back as he pushes his hand beneath my bra and kneads my heated skin, a soft sigh passing my parted lips.
“That’s it, baby. Give yourself over to me.”
His other hand strokes along my inner thigh, slowly climbing higher. Too distracted by the desire his talented fingers are stoking, I don’t notice until his fingers brush along the raised scars just below my apex. My legs clamp together as panic sweeps through me.
Chuckling darkly, he pries them apart, and I sag against him as his hand moves past the scars to brush over my wet panties, sending me spiraling headfirst into a whirlwind of need.
“Call this your reward for a job well done.”
He pushes aside the fabric of my panties, his fingers circling my sensitive nub and only emphasizing how much I’ve been needing someone to touch me. The tension at the club all night between me and Royce, the dirty words he whispered in my ear, and the way he fucked my face… all of it was the best sort of foreplay, only it’s left me weak and desperate for release.
Pathetic whimpers fall from my lips as he drives me higher, fingers expertly playing with my clit. “I love the sounds you make,” he murmurs huskily in my ear as I grind my ass against his cock and tilt my hips in a silent plea for him to slide them lower.
“Logan,” I moan as his fingers slip through my wetness before he pushes them inside, stretching my walls in the most delicious of ways.
He scissors his fingers inside me and I groan as I rock my hips, driving him deeper. His nose is buried in my hair, and he licks my ear in a surprisingly seductive move that only intensifies the sensations wracking my body. His fingers pump into me, pushing me higher, and I can feel myself slowly unraveling beneath his touch.
“I knew there was more to you than meets the eye.” He nips along my neck, making me clench around his fingers as they pick up their pace. “You act all innocent, but you’re just as wild and lost as the rest of us, aren’t you?” His spare hand moves to my other tit, sliding beneath the fabric until he can roll my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. I’m moments away from falling apart, both loving and hating every second his talented fingers drive me closer to oblivion.
“You’d be perfect for us, you know. Your demons match ours. If only you’d let them out to play.”
He presses down on my clit and simultaneously pinches my nipple, sending me over the edge as I cry out.
“Fucking beautiful,” he praises as I sag against him, panting and breathless.
32
LOGAN
Lying in my bed, I stare up at the ceiling above me, but all I see is her. All I feel is her velvety smooth skin against mine. All I hear are her soft, sweet moans as she came apart beneath my touch.
Like a disease, she has infiltrated all of my senses, reprogrammed my cells, and taken hostage of my brain. She’s a cancer, but instead of slowly killing me, she’s bringing me back to life.
Still, it’s not her husky moans or the feel of her coming on my hand that has kept me awake all night, pondering into the darkness. It’s the raised marks I felt along her inner thigh. The way she clamped her legs shut and stiffened in my arms.
It’s played on repeat in my head all night as my mind contemplates the numerous possibilities. The various scenarios as to why she might have them. Why she’d want to hide them. Although there’s one, in particular, I keep circling back to. The darkest yet most likely reason. One I refuse to contemplate too deeply because I’m unsure what it means—and admittedly a little horrified at the notion.
Unable to ruminate in my thoughts a moment longer, I throw back my covers and pull on a pair of sweatpants before padding barefoot from my room. I pause briefly at Riley’s door next to mine, listening for any sounds coming from within. I felt like a total shit leaving her on the hard floor to sleep last night, and I very nearly told Grayson to go fuck himself—in my head, of course—and took her to my bed, but I needed the time alone to think.
Not hearing anything from behind her closed door, I saunter down the stairs, following the smell of bacon and eggs. I’m not surprised when I walk into the kitchen and find Royce in front of the stove and Grayson sitting at the island, nursing a steaming cup of coffee while he scrolls through his iPad. Unless I have an early morning practice, I’m usually the last one up.
Royce raises a surprised eyebrow. “What are you doing up so early?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” I grunt as I drop into a bar stool beside Grayson.
“Too excited for Santa coming,” the jackass teases, earning himself my middle finger.
Ignoring Royce’s barking laugh, I turn to Grayson. “I wanted to talk to you, actually… about Riley.”
Sighing, he doesn’t lift his gaze from his iPad until he sets his coffee down on the marble countertop. “I thought you were done letting her get into your head?”
“I am. It’s not her. It’s just…” Already frustrated with this conversation, I rake my fingers through my sleep-tangled hair. “What do you know about her mom?”
His eyebrows pinch before he shrugs. “Not much. She was always nice enough. Pleasant. Adoring to my father. Polite with me.”
