Page 147 of Heart of Frost and Scars

“Watch that fucking tone.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fucking you is a start.” Low and velvety, his voice rubs against my overheated skin. “Bruising, claiming, ramming, burning, breaking, insides spilling, guts melting, spread open, ass up, crying out in the dark while you come on me, and I come in you. That’s where we’re headed.”

By the time he finishes, he has my feet off the floor, my thighs around his hips, and my back against the bulkhead. He grips my hair, yanking my head back and forcing me to look at him.

As he stares into my furious eyes, he realizes what he’s done.

“Fuck.” He drops me to the floor and staggers back.

The panic on his face conveys more regret than words could. Though it’s hard to forgive him with that raging boner tenting his pants.

I aim my glare at it.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” He runs a hand through his dark strands, flexing the veiny muscles in his forearm. “I’m sorry. I’ve been celibate for so fucking long. My endless goddamn need for you is wearing me down.”

He turns, bending to grab a water bottle from the mini-fridge, drawing my focus to places I shouldn’t be looking.

The man knows how to wear a suit. Especially those pants. Tailored to his exact measurements, the expensive fabric makes his ass look delectable. I mean, he’s always had an incredible ass. It should be illegal.

He offers the water, and I take a greedy drink. As he guzzles down the rest of it, his free hand swiftly opens the buttons on his shirt, exposing the results of two months in the gym.

All V-cut abs, bulging pecs, and narrow hips. Shiny shoes. Five o’clock shadow. Beautifully chiseled face, crafted by God.

Six foot-five inches of psychological warfare in a designer suit.

Heat burns my cheeks, and I avert my eyes, cursing my thoughts.

I don’t need reminders of why I fell in love with this man.

“Remember what we were like together?” He grips my chin, forcing me to look at him. “We couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Like hormonal teenagers in a constant state of hunger. I was hard for three years, living with you, living inside you, fucking you every day, on every surface, in every hole and position. Best three years of my life.”

“It doesn’t matter how happy we were.” Releasing a breath, I hide beneath the veil of my lashes. “That was then. We’re different people now.”

“You still love me.” His thumb slides over my bottom lip. “If you ignore that feeling, it will only end badly.”

“Badly for whom?” I lean away from his touch. “You, them, or me?”

“Yes.” His frosty eyes glint with danger, whispering warnings from his scarred soul.

He’s suffered loss—the pregnancy, our marriage, the son he never met, his evil brother—and he’s still fighting. Ambitious and fiercely passionate, he will raise hell and shatter heaven in pursuit of his ultimate desire.

And that desire is me.

“I can’t get you out of my head. I wish I could. But I can’t.” He edges closer, lifting his arms to grip the overhead above us as he leans in.

Level with my face, his waistband slips dangerously low on his lean hips, revealing every inch of his rippled abdomen.

It’s impossible to look at him and not feel like I’m cheating.

“Christ, I want you. Your mind. Your body.” He lowers a hand from the overhead to stroke my cheek before sliding down to caress my throat. “You’re so goddamn pretty. Let me play with you.”

“Nope.” My ears inflame as I jump up, backing toward the door. “You got your dirty talk in. Now we’re done.”

“We’ll never be done.” He prowls toward me, caging me against the door. “You used to love dirty talk.”

I still love it. With Leo and Kody. I can’t love it with Monty.

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