Page 8 of Cold As Ice

“Okay… butwhatdo you do?”

“Sorry, I’m being vague.” I let out a small huff of frustration. “It’s just, I have a lot of family stuff I’m dealing with.”

“I get it.”

“You do?” My brows furrowed.

“More than you know.”

Austin gave nothing away, but I saw the flash of pain in his eyes. Whatever it was, he had baggage too.

I didn’t push him to explain, though, because that would leave me wide open to his questions.

Questions I wouldn’t be able to answer.

“Why did you give me the wrong number back at the bar?” The words were out before I could stop myself.

“I don’t make a habit of giving my number out to strangers.” He studied me, the intensity in his eyes stealing my breath. “Even one as pretty as you.”

“I’m not sleeping with you,” I reiterated, trying to remember why that was my rule.

Austin reached for my hand, tugging me up to my feet. “I’m not asking you to. But there’s plenty of fun we can have that doesn’t involve me getting inside you.”

Holy crap.

Heat fired off around my body, places inside me, clenching violently at his dirty words. I couldn’t remember the last time a man had talked to me so brazenly.

I liked it.

I liked it far more than I should have.

“Or I can leave, and you never have to see me—”

“A. I choose option A.” Tingles broke out over my skin as I stared up at him.

Austin glided his hand along my jaw before slipping it around my neck and holding me there, massaging gently.

God, it felt good.

So good a small whimper caught in my throat.

“I didn’t plan on doing this,” his voice dropped an octave, “but I’d be lying if I said I can’t wait to taste you.”

His mouth came down on mine, hard and demanding. The roughness of his kiss was at odds with the softness in his voice, but it only doubled his sex appeal.

Austin Hart was clearly a master in the art of seduction, and I was all too happy to fall prey to his tactics.

His tongue licked the seam of my lips, teasing little flicks that coaxed me to open for him. He slipped inside, and another whimper crawled up my throat.

Jesus. I was already a puddle, and he’d barely touched me yet.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” he murmured between kisses.

I’d forgotten how good this could feel. How addictive.

“Can I touch you?” he paused to ask, and there was something so fucking sexy about the fact he was asking my permission.

“If you don’t touch me,” I breathed, “I’ll never forgive you.”

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