Page 58 of Shattered Ice
She doesn’t flinch. “I’m not a reporter tonight, Voss. I’m a friend of the program.”
“No,” he says, a cold smirk on his face. “You’re a shark who smells blood. Cole, get your sister.”
Maya turns to her brother. “Cole, a little help?”
Cole just shrugs, taking a long drink from his cup. “Sorry, May. Team house, team rules.”
Maya’s jaw tightens with fury, but before she can retort, Dante gestures with his head toward the door. “Get out before you get hurt.”
My focus is singular. Clara.
I cross the room, my path cutting directly through the crowd. I stop in front of her and, without a word, lift one hand to brush my thumb over her bottom lip. A silent declaration for anyone watching. Her breath catches. A flicker of fire in her eyes. I give Zoë and Genny a curt nod. “Stealing her for a minute.”
Zoë steps halfway into my path, a wicked glint in her eyes. “Use protection, Hale,” she says, her voice a low purr. “She plays for keeps.”
I just smirk and take Clara’s hand, lacing my fingers through hers, and pull her down a narrow hallway. I shove open a door to a den and pull her inside, shutting it behind us. The room smells of dust, old leather, and spilled whiskey. The second the door closes, I press her back against it.
I feel the fight in her, the tension in her shoulders a taut bowstring as she decides whether to shove me away or melt. But it’s too late. Her body has already made the choice. My fingers trace the hem of her skirt, a path of exquisite torture, beforehooking beneath the fabric. The rustle is a crescendo in the charged space. My hand slides up the back of her thigh, feeling the faint tremor in her muscle. She’s wearing panties—simple silk, a disappointing barrier and an agonizingly hot fact. The urge to rip them off is a primal roar. Instead, I let my palm cup her ass through the thin material, squeezing gently, possessively. A claim.
A broken, helpless sound escapes her lips. “You like that?” I whisper, my voice thick with arousal. “You like me touching you here? Look at the good little tutor, soaking wet for me in a hallway where anyone could walk by. Exposed. Mine.”
She shakes her head, a lie so blatant it makes a dark smile bloom on my lips as I press them against her skin. Her hips give a traitorous little push against my hand, an undeniable invitation.
“Liar,” I breathe, pressing my mouth to the frantic pulse in her throat, tasting the salt of her skin. The savage impulse to bite down, to mark her, surges through me. “Your body tells the truth. It always does. It’s screaming for me, Clara. Begging.”
My fingers slide forward, tracing the seam of her panties to the wet, pulsing heat between her legs. She’s already soaked. Utterly drenched for me. The knowledge sends a savage spike of triumph through me.Mine.I dip one finger into the slick folds, parting her. She gasps, her back arching against the wall as her nails dig into my shirt.
“Fuck,” I groan against her neck, the sound muffled and feral. “Look how wet you are for me. Just from a few words.” I slide a second finger in, spreading her open, finding the hard pearl of her clit. I circle it once, slowly, and she whimpers, her eyes squeezing shut. “That’s it, princess. Fall apart for me. Let me feel how much you want it.”
“Stop,” she chokes out, but her hands come up to fist in my shirt, pulling me closer.
“You don’t want me to stop,” I counter, my thumb moving in a brutal, steady rhythm against her clit while my fingers stretch her. “You want me to make you come right here, don’t you? You want everyone to know you’re mine. Tell me you want it.”
“I…” Her hips are moving now, a desperate, frantic rhythm against my hand.
“Tell me,” I command, my voice a blade in the dark. I slow the pace, pulling my fingers almost out, the torture making her whine. “Look at me, Clara. You don’t get to come until you say it. Beg for it.”
Her eyes snap open, glazed and pleading. The haze clears. They focus on mine, sharp and deliberate. Then she says it, not like a victim, but like a queen making a decree. “I want it,” she sobs, the words a raw, ragged confession that breaks what’s left of my control.
That’s all I need. I plunge my fingers back into her, fucking her with a merciless rhythm, my thumb never leaving that single, aching point of pleasure. I feel the tension coiling in her, tighter and tighter. I watch her face in the dim light, watch her control shatter, watch her unravel.Watching her break is a masterpiece. I’m the artist. The architect of her surrender.
When she comes, it’s a violent, silent implosion. Her back bows, her head thrown back as a series of brutal shudders wrack her body. A muffled cry is torn from her throat, a sound I feel vibrate against my hand. Her inner muscles clench around my fingers in a sweet, hot torture that nearly brings me to my knees. She sags against me, boneless and trembling.
I slowly pull my fingers out, letting her see the slick evidence of her climax coating my hand. Her eyes widen, a fresh wave of mortified pink flooding her cheeks, but she doesn’t pull away. I lift my hand to her trembling lips.
“Taste it,” I command, my voice a raw whisper. “Taste how much you wanted me. How much you broke for me.”
She hesitates, her gaze locked with mine. Then, with a shudder, she parts her lips and slowly licks the tip of my finger. The act is one of complete surrender, sending a fresh wave of savage lust through me. With a smirk, I wipe my remaining fingers high on the inside of her thigh, marking her with her own release. “That’s just the start,” I growl, my voice a raw promise. “We’re done here.”
I take her hand, lacing my fingers through hers in an unbreakable grip, and pull her out of the room, through the crowded party, ignoring the stares.
She pulls back for a second. “My friends—”
I turn her chin with my hand, forcing her to look only at me. “They’ll figure it out,” I say, my voice low and final.
As we pass her group, she gives them a quick, flushed, apologetic look. Zoë gives her a massive, knowing wink. Genny offers a single, subtle nod that says,Be careful.
Outside, the night air is a sharp, biting cold. My black Audi gleams under the streetlights like a weapon. I open her door, shoving her inside with an urgency I don't try to hide. The engine roars to life, a low, guttural growl that mirrors the beast in my chest. I peel out of the driveway, the tires screaming.
