Page 80 of Frozen Hearts
His eyes dart back and forth between mine. “You’re supposed to be dancing.” I huff out a breath before distractedly swaying my hips, giving a half-assed attempt at a dance.
“You’resupposed to be answering. It’s an easy question.”
“Giving someone your name means you are handing part of your power over to them. It gives that person a sense of ownership. They can wield your name like a weapon, using it however they see fit—as a sign of affection, in an outpouring of love.Orthey can use it to drag you through the mud, spread slander, and ensue defamation of your character. Once given, you can never take it back. So no, it’s not an easy question.”
Well, it sounds like he’s given it a lot of thought.
“Does that mean you aren’t going to answer it?”
“No.”
Okay, then. My lips quirk up in a cocky smirk. “That means I get to touch you.”
The glare he levels me with could topple a building, but I brush it aside like dust as I tap my finger against my lip and look him over, pretending I’m deciding on where I want to touch him. The truth is, I already know. It’s something I’ve been wanting to do since I first walked into this booth and saw him sitting there.
However, I’m enjoying watching how much this irks him. I can feel him growing tenser with each passing second, the air around us turning charged and deadly. Mr. Moody, Hot, and Arrogant doesn’t like when the tables are turned on him.Interesting.
He grunts at me to hurry up, his steely gaze boring into me. My heart pounds in my chest as I step closer, and my bare legs brush against his jean-clad thighs when I lean in. The sharp smell of leather and damp earth from his aftershave mingles with the natural scent of male skin, igniting a fire beneath my skin.
My eyes drift from the strands of dark hair that constantly fall forward across his forehead to his ice-blue eyes that remind me of the lake near my middle school that froze over every winter. Our eyes lock, sending a bolt of desire straight to my core. I can feel him prying into my soul with his piercing stare. Probing at my deeply-seated scars and picking at my vulnerabilities.
Feeling exposed, I tear my eyes from his, my gaze dipping further until it catches on the pale pink color of his lips. They’re so soft looking, plump, and moist. So in contrast to his hard edges and sharp lines. I long to touch them, to press my fingertips against them to see if they're as soft as they look, and I decide that's what I will do if I get the opportunity to touch him again.
Slowly lifting my hand, I thread my fingers through the wayward strands and push them back from his face. The silky strands are warm beneath my fingers, gliding effortlessly through them, and I find myself lingering, not yet ready to let go. He doesn't rush me, and daringly, I let my hand drift lower, my fingers brushing along the solid line of his jaw and feeling the day-old stubble scrape against my skin, the sensation sending an electric current shooting through my body.
"My turn." His voice rumbles like thunder, low and guttural, as the words escape his throat, making my head whirl and my chest heave. Sensing the fine grip I have on my control slipping, I force myself to step away and remember why I shouldn't act upon my impulsive desires.
Erecting my walls, I resume my dance, ignoring the rapid thudding of my heart as I await his question, dreading the truth he could ask for.
He drags out the moment, penetrating eyes attempting to flay me open so he can root inside me for the answer without asking his question. However, my secrets are carefully guarded. Hidden behind high stone walls and moats, in a castle upon a tall mountain, surrounded by wild terrain no one can venture through. Nevertheless, I ready the cannons and prepare for war while scouring the walls for any signs of a breach.
“Why did you come to Halston?” he eventually asks.
“Why does any scholarship student come to Halston?” I counter.
Lips pursing, his astute gaze remains rooted on me as his eyes narrow at my deflection. “I didn’t ask why every other scholarship student comes here. I want to know whyyouchose to.”
Turning in my heels, I shake my hips, my ass dancing in front of him. A pointless distraction as, when I glance back at him over my shoulder, I find him still intently focused on my face. Sighing, I explain, “I wanted an education. Halston is one of the finest institutions in the country, and they offered me a full ride. I’d have had to be insane to turn it down.”
I hold his gaze for a moment longer before turning to look at a point out on the club floor, continuing the sensual moving of my body solely for him. I take the time to decide my next question. Considering I know next to nothing about him, choosing what to ask is challenging. What I want to know most. What he might seemingly answer.
“Why do you keep coming back here?” I eventually ask, turning to face him again.
“I want something pretty to look at.”
“But why me? If that’s the reason, plenty of beautiful women here would happily dance for you.”
“Nu huh, one question at a time, James. It’s my turn.”
Huffing out a breath, I gesture for him to ask his question.
“Why did you come to Halston?” he repeats.
I cock a brow. “I already answered that one.”
“You did, but it wasn’t the truth. So I’m asking again.”
His comeback has me stopping mid-dance to stare wide-eyed at him.Well, damn. I totally thought he bought that.
