Page 81 of Frozen Hearts
Unwilling to give him the actual truth, or anything even remotely close to it, I slam my mouth shut, lips pressed together in a refusal.
One side of his lips quirk, and I’d hazard a guess he was expecting my non-response. “Better turn around, James.”
“Why?” I ask, suddenly feeling anxious.
“Cause where I wanna touch, I can’t reach from here.”
Yup, that response only ratchets my anxiety up another five notches, and my knees tremble as I hesitantly turn my back on him. My breathing grows heavier with every second that passes, and he makes no move to reach out and touch me.
As the tension in my body reaches a breaking point, I feel an almost imperceptible brush against the back of my calf. It's so soft that I almost believe I imagined it, except it’s followed a second later by another feather-light caress on my other leg. My body goes up in flames, as though every nerve has been dipped in caramel and poked with needles, and I know for certain that it wasn't simply my imagination.
Growing bolder, Ruthless slowly trails a scorching path up the back of my calves. The heat from his fingers spreads like wildfire as he reaches my knees, before his palms cup my legs, engulfing them as he slides them up toward my hips. With every inch gained, my breathing grows labored until I’m lightheaded and dizzy, the blood pulsing through my veins like molten lava.
When he reaches the hem of my short skirt, I expect him to continue, perhaps grab my ass. However, he surprises me by moving his hands to the outside of the fabric and continuing his ascent until he can grip my hips.
He tugs, and I gasp as I fall back against him. “Thisis where I wanted to touch you,” he whispers in a husky voice, his breath tickling my ear as I try my best not to wriggle in his lap.
His hands remain firmly fixed on my hips. Although, since he didn’t need me to turn around in order to touch them, I’m guessing that’s not what he’s referring to.
“Ask your question,” he murmurs, his velvety-smooth voice doing inappropriate things to me as his fingers dig into my soft flesh in a clear indication for me to remain where I am.
I’m not entirely sure what the game is at this point, but I do know he’s not going to answer whatever I ask. So this time, I don’t even bother asking one of my many questions and instead blurt, “What’s the most outrageous thing you’ve ever done?”
His surprised breath whooshes against the sensitive skin of my neck, and I’m already thinking about where I want to touch him next when he murmurs, “Definitely this.”
My head whips around to face him, our eyes clashing, but before I can say or do anything, he bites out, “Why are you at Halston?”
This again?
My lips remain sealed, and taking my silence for what it is, he releases one of my hips from his large, calloused palms and slowly slides it lower across the front of my skirt until his fingers curve around the hem. Sliding lower still, his hand cups my entire pussy, and everything in me shivers at the heat that radiates between us.
Curling a finger, he runs it along my thong-covered slit, and I know he can feel the moisture gathered from this little game of ours. It’s a dead giveaway to how affected I am by him—just like the hard rod digging into my back gives away his.
“Come on, James,” he purrs in my ear. “Be a good girl for me and answer the question.”
His words douse me in ice-cold water, obliterating the searing heat from a moment ago ashisvoice infiltrates the room.
“Such a good girl for me.”
He would always say something to that effect after he was finished, as I was curled up on my side, my back to him so he couldn't see the devastation he wrought. I wanted him to know precisely what he did to me every night, but I also refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing I was splintering piece by piece.
It was the same reason I never allowed him to see how viscerally his words affected me. They were more potent than his actions. No matter how hard I tried to keep my tears in, they would inevitably spill out when he gently ran his fingers through my hair and whisperedmy good girl. They were my undoing. The final straw that broke me.
With the feel ofhishand in my hair and his voice in my head, I jump out of Ruthless’ lap and race from the booth. The club is a blur as I make a beeline for the staff exit door leading into the back of the building.
Flying through it, my rapid breathing echoes in my head as I hurry blindly down the corridor, not even sure of where I’m going. Away. I just need to get away. To breathe in fresh air. To get somewhere private before someone sees me in the midst of a panic attack.
A hard shove has me stumbling against the wall as a warm heat envelops my back.
“Where do you think you’re going, James?”
I hadn’t realized he’d followed me. He shouldn’t even be back here, but I can’t make my lips form the words to tell him as much. As he presses in against me, my panic spikes, and I slam my eyes closed against the onslaught of memories. Some familiar. Some new. Some I had long since buried or forgotten entirely, while others are the ones that like to sneak up on me in the middle of the night.
“Please,” I whimper, my throat choked with tears. “Please, don’t.”
Trapped in my mind, I don’t notice him take a step back or cautiously reach out to turn me around, until gentle fingers grasp my chin, forcing my head upward until my eyes clash with baby blue ones. Ones that I’d recognize anywhere.
I latch on to them, using them as a lifeline to reel me in and pull me out of the bottomless ocean of trauma that I’m wading through. Until my breathing once again feels steady and his presence is tucked away.
