Page 19 of Dreams on the Ice

And with that, Forrest guides me away from the bitch. I let out a sigh of relief. I want to ask him if this whole plan is even going to work at this point, but before I can do that, a black-eyed man appears in front of us.

Oh. Shit.

Chapter

Nine

BROOKLYNN

As we walk backto the guesthouse, I wonder if this could be real. I want it to be so bad. But then again, I want a lot of things in life. I want to keep all these clothes and shoes and not have to sell them so I can eat next month.

I want my salon to be beyond high end, like celebrity status. I want a hell of a lot, but I also want this man who has his hand pressed against the small of my back to be mine.

All mine.

I watch as he reaches for the handle of the door and twists it, pushing it in as he steps to the side to allow my entrance. Moving past him, I stop in the small foyer before I spin around to face him.

He closes the door behind him, his brows raised to the sky, but he doesn’t say anything. At least not yet. I take one step toward him, then another. He doesn’t stop me as I continue closing the distance between us.

Forrest lifts his hand, and his fingertips graze the underside of my jaw. His eyes search mine as he does it, and I’m notsure what he’s looking for, but I also don’t give a shit. I want his lips on my body—everywhere. I want his touch, his mouth—everything.

“Brooklynn,” he rasps. “This will ruin everything.”

I hum, unsure of what to say exactly and also not caring. My breathing comes out faster, and as much as I attempt to control it, I can’t. His fingers slide from my jaw to the center of my chest and stop at the top of my dress.

“It won’t ruin anything, Forrest,” I exhale. “We’ll finally be able to breathe.”

He hums as his gaze searches mine. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but whatever it is, he must find it because he dips his chin before his lips touch mine. The kiss is short. He doesn’t deepen it. It’s a brush of his lips against mine before he lifts his head slightly.

“It’s going to ruin everything,” he rasps against my mouth. “I hope it does.”

Without another word, his mouth slams against mine, and he gives me a hard, wet kiss. His tongue slips between my lips before he tastes me—tastes all of me. My body melts against his. Forrest wraps his arms around me, holding me against his body as he consumes me.

Slowly, he nibbles on my bottom lip, breaking the kiss. I want to rip my clothes off right this second for him. If I weren’t a nervous ball of energy, I probably would be able to think a little better, and I would strip out of everything.

“Forrest,” I rasp.

He chuckles, reaching out, his fingers sliding across my lips. They’re swollen from his kiss, but he seems fascinated. I open my mouth, and he slips two fingers between my lips. When I swirl his fingers with my tongue, he moans before he slips them from my mouth, and then he slides them down my throat, creating a wet trail with my saliva.

“Whatever friendship we had is over for us, Brooklynn,” he murmurs.

“Forrest,” I whisper.

I don’t care if our faux friendship is over. I never really valued it much to begin with. All I want is him. I don’t really care how that comes about at this point—I never did. Then it happens. I feel his fingers reach for the back of my dress. He tugs on the strings of the corset top before he loosens it so much that it slides down my hips and legs before it pools at my feet.

He takes a step backward, his eyes searching mine before they slowly slide down to my bare chest, and then his lips twitch. I want to cover myself because this feels far too vulnerable.

I don’t move.

I can’t.

I’m completely frozen.

Instead of letting him stare at me for who knows how long, I extend my arms and begin to unbutton his shirt. I expose his massive expanse of chest, and my mouth waters to taste his tanned skin.

“Fuck the friendship,” I whisper. “I honestly never gave a shit about it anyway.”

Leaning forward, I touch my lips to his nipple, my tongue snaking out to swirl around the warm skin. He groans, his eyes sliding down to meet mine so that he watches as I taste him. His lids are hooded as he looks down at me from beneath his lashes.

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