Page 138 of Frozen Hearts
“And you’ll show me when you’re finished?”
“We made a deal, didn’t we?”
I nod. A surprisingly comfortable silence falls over us, and I notice how relaxed he is in his own space. He doesn’t wear the armor he dons outside this room. The black leather jacket and resting moody asshole face.
“You’re quite the enigma Royce King,” I state, almost laughing aloud at the fact his facial expression doesn’t so much as twitch.
“How’s that?”
“Football player. Fighter. Artist… It's quite the eclectic mix.”
“Ex-football player,” he corrects with an edge to his voice. One that blatantly tells me not to push against that door. So I don’t.
“Do you have any other secret talents?”
He smirks, and it’s dark and mysterious and oh-so sexy. Pushing out of his chair, he closes the distance between us until he’s standing over me where I’m sitting on the end of his bed.
Lifting a hand, he tucks a finger beneath my chin and tilts my face up until I’m staring into the dark depths of his eyes. “You mean the kind that would have you creaming my cock over and over until you’re too sore to move?”
My breaths come in short pants as my nipples pebble against my bra. He smirks down at me. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? All doe-eyed and innocent looking, but you know exactly what to do with that tight body of yours. How to entice men. You enjoy being at our bidding. Knowing you’re getting under Grayson’s skin. Basking in Logan’s glow. Kneeling at my feet.” His hand lowers until it wraps loosely around my throat, fingers caressing the skin. “Don’t you?”
“Yes,” I confess, admitting aloud what I have refused to accept for myself.
Because while sometimes Grayson pushes me too close to the edge, I have found a sick sense of pleasure in watching them bend to me little by little. It’s seductive. Empowering. Heady in a way I’ve never experienced before.
“I bet you’re soaking wet right now,” he continues in his low, gravelly voice.
The heat burning in his eyes sparks a challenge within me and I daringly part my legs, taunting, “Why don’t you find out for yourself?”
His fingers tighten around my throat as he releases a pained groan, stepping into the gap I’ve made for him between my thighs. Releasing me, he drags his hand down to the base of my throat, and lower still between my breasts and down over my abdomen. Reaching the top of Logan’s sweats, he begins gathering the excess fabric of the T-shirt in his hand until he can push his fingers beneath the waistband.
I suck in a breath as his fingers glide over my skin, sliding lower to dip under my panties. Our mingled breaths heat the air between us, anticipation crackling like static electricity.
When his fingers graze over my mound, I suck my lower lip into my mouth, swallowing back my whimper as I tilt my hips, needing more.
“Such a needy girl,” Royce teases, voice thick with desire. “Tell me what you want, James.”
“I—” I trail off, having never actually said such things aloud. I love how dirty he talks, but I’m not sure if I can pull it off the same way. I worry I’ll just sound stupid.
“Go on, Babydoll. Tell me…” Leaning down, he trails his lips over my ear. “…and maybe I’ll do it.”
“I want—”
“Yo, fuckers!” Logan bellows from downstairs, his voice piercing through the charged atmosphere and unintentionally ruining the moment as I jolt away from Royce’s touch. “Where you at?”
Ignoring him, Royce and I stare at one another as that fragile bubble of anticipation shatters. It feels like a cruel twist of fate, or perhaps it’s a blessing in disguise. How far would I have let this go? How far would he?
The moment, once brimming with heat and possibility, dissolves into frustration for what could have been, and I force an awkward smile to my lips as I get to my feet, dislodging his hand from my sweats.
He doesn’t step back, forcing me to press against his front as I shift to maneuver past him. Except as I step away, he reaches out and grabs my wrist. I turn to look at him over my shoulder, finding his heated, intense gaze boring into mine. “To be continued.”
35
GRAYSON
“Three days in a row? Cecilia is a lucky woman,” the receptionist teases as I sign the visitor log book. Giving her a polite smile, I navigate through the building toward room 173.
I tap my knuckles lightly against the door, listening for any sounds from within before easing it open. “Gran?”
