Page 16 of Dreams on the Ice

Sure, he bleeds blue old money, but he’s not like anyone else here. He’s just one of the guys. He’s a Fury. There is no being a snobby asshole with them. Half of them are missing teeth, have had their noses broken a few times, and are covered in scars and stitches all over their bodies.

They’re rough and rugged.

They’d also call him on being a dick, and then the team would probably fire him if he acted like any of the people at these parties.

Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I stand up tall and stretch. As much as I want to lie in bed all day long, I have parties to get ready for, so I focus on that task. And that has to take all of my focus. If I think about Forrest, if I think about the way his touch feels, the way I want him inside of me, I’m going to follow him skeet shooting, and I’m going to attack him.

Taking a shower, I wash, exfoliate, and dry off every part of my body. I don’t know why I’m taking so much care in this. It’s not like he’s going to see or, rather, touch any of it. This is solely for me to feel beautiful and for no other reason.

Once I’m showered, I tug on my dress. It has thick, poofy sleeves, but the bodice is tight around my chest and then flares out from the waist and ends right at midthigh. It’s also black with white polka dots and has pockets and built-in shorts underneath because it’s short.

The whole outfit is completely adorable. I love it so much. Then I pair it with a pair of hot-pinkValentino Garavanidesigner high heels that have a large single stud on the top. They’re amazing, and I probably won’t sell them once this is finished.

I love them that much.

Fluffing up last night’s curls, I put my makeup on before I move to the small living space. I’m not sure what I’m going to find there. I assume that Forrest is likely already gone on hisshooting adventure. But that’s where I see him. He has his back to me. Honestly, it’s the best view I’ve had in a long time.

He’s wearing a pair of khaki pants that hug his thick thighs. A pair of brown suede boots hit at midcalf. He looks like he should be on the cover of one of those bodice ripper books. To top it off, he’s got on a white button-down shirt that stretches across his broad shoulders.

Sensing my arrival, he turns his head to look over his shoulder at me. His eyes widen, but then, in the next breath, his entire body spins, and he faces me wholly. I can’t even move. I’m completely frozen in place. He doesn’t even try to hide the way his eyes scan my entire body.

Down, up, then farther up, then down again.

“Morning,” I rasp.

His brow lifts and he lets out a chuckle. “Morning, babe. You’re ready for brunch,” he murmurs. It’s not a question but more of a statement. I’m ready for brunch. And I am. I guess.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Forrest’s brows snap together. “Yeah?” he asks. “Why don’t you just stay here? I can tell you don’t want to go, and I don’t blame you at all.”

Slowly, I move toward him. My fingers itch to touch him, to feel his warm skin beneath my fingertips, but I refrain, even if it’s hard. Clearing my throat, I look down to my feet, then slowly lift my gaze to find his.

“Because this is about your inheritance. You’re owed it, and I’m going to try my hardest for you to get what you’re owed. Plus, I’m sorry, but your mom pissed me off, and she’s a bit of a bitch.”

He grunts but doesn’t say anything, so I continue to tell him what I think. I probably shouldn’t. Honestly, it’s not my business, but he’s brought me here, so it kind of is my business, too.

“It’s not yours to try your hardest about,” I say. “This is about your kids, about their futures. I’m trying for them as much as you. It’s yours, and you shouldn’t have to fight for it like this. Your parents are being assholes.”

Forrest reaches for me, taking my hand in his. My breath hitches when he lifts my hand to his lips. Then he releases it before I realize what’s happening. I’m moving closer to him.

I want to take him and let him take me.

I want everything about this man, and I don’t know how I’m going to refrain from jumping on him. Whatever the case, whatever he wants, I would give it to him right this second. But he doesn’t ask me for anything. Especially to take my dress off and straddle his face. Which is what my body really wants to do right about now.

Instead, he turns away from me, leaving me staring at his perfect ass when he does. “So we’ll meet up here for the black-tie dinner?” he calls out without looking at me.

“Yeah, I’ll be here,” I rasp.

He hums. He’s not sure what to say to that, and neither am I. “Good,” he murmurs. “Dinner it is. Then we can breathe a sigh of relief because we’ll be halfway finished with this whole thing.”

“What happens if this doesn’t work out for you, Forrest?” I ask.

He watches me for a moment, then turns back to whatever it is he’s working on. I stare at his broad shoulders, wondering how I’m going to do this for days. I can already feel my breathing quicken, and my heart flutters with every second we spend in this small room.

“If it doesn’t, I’ll figure it out.”

And that is that.

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