Page 154 of Ice Darling
Inside, I throw a tantrum.
Why? Why do we have to stop?
A second later, two hands land on my waist, and I’m airborne. Renthrow moves me where he wants me—and apparently, that’s on top of my bike. Without missing a beat, he swoops in and kisses me again.
I sigh in relief as his tongue slides against my closed lips, and then he pulls back, looking at me with hooded eyes. “Better?”
I nod. “More, please.”
“So polite.” He laughs, and when he kisses me again, our teeth knock together from his smile. I smile too, and snake both hands around his neck as we continue.
There’s warmth.
And flames.
And an exhilarating, indescribable tenderness.
His touch surrounds me, consuming me. I’ve always had to ride to get this feeling, but with one press of his mouth to mine, I’m flying.
Gordie’s laughter filters to us from the direction of the backyard, and it reminds me that we’re not alone in this little bubble of our creation.
Renthrow makes a satisfied humming sound as he pulls back, and I want to grab my phone to record it and set it as my ringtone. It’s the hottest sound I’ve ever heard, and everyone in the town of Lucky Falls should know thatI—Cordelia Davenport—did that to him.
“We should probably go back now,” I whisper.
“Probably,” he says, resting his forehead against mine.
“Yeah,” I murmur, not moving an inch.
Renthrow’s eyes drop to my lips again, and he swipes his thumb over them. “Your lips are swollen.”
I cup his jaw. “Your face is red.”
“Is it?” He rubs his cheek, and I hear the brisk sound of his stubble against the palm of his hand.
“Gordie will notice.”
“She won’t.”
“Remember that day I was hiding in your closet?”
His voice rumbles, “Good point. We should probably hang out here for a bit longer to cool off.”
I stop myself just short of asking if “cooling off” means “more kissing.”
Renthrow smiles and then kisses me tenderly on the forehead. “What are you thinking?”
“Thoughts that should not be shared.”
He looks intrigued, but just then, his phone rings.
“It’s Gordie,” he announces.
I nod and gesture for him to take it. Renthrow puts the phone to his ear with one hand and then circles my waist with the other.
“Hey, pumpkin. I found Cordelia. We’ll be back in a second.” He helps me off the bike as gently as he’d put me on it, and his hands slowly slide away from my body. “Yes, you can have somechocolate cake. One slice. You’re not supposed to eat sugar this late.” He pauses for a beat. “No, you can’t negotiate. It’s either one slice or none.” Another pause. “That’s what I thought.”
I laugh when Renthrow hangs up the phone.
