Page 17 of Brutal Ice

She shouldn’t be on her own. Shouldn’t be staying alone. She should stay with the prick brother who’d locked her in the closet when they were kids. Yeah, right, like I’ll be letting that one go. He’ll get payback soon enough.

But she’d refused to heed his warning.

Unfortunate.

Royal had tried to give her a choice. No, he had given her a choice. What came next…well, she couldn’t say that he hadn’t warned her.

He—

The balcony door opened again. His head whipped up.

Violet was there.

Fuck. Violet was there.

She rushed back toward him. “I?—”

His hand curled around her waist. He didn’t second guess. Didn’t even think. He just pulled her against him, and his mouth locked on hers. And it was just as it had been at the police station. He’d half-convinced himself that he’d imagined the burst of desire that erupted when he took her lips. That she hadn’t tasted like the only slice of heaven he’d ever know. That his whole body didn’t ignite with need when their lips met and their tongues brushed.

But this kiss—it was even better than his memory. He felt the kiss in every cell of his body. Felt her. Her lilac scent engulfed him. Her soft body pressed against him. She tasted like peppermint. Fucking delicious. And he wanted to eat her up.

More, he wanted to fuck her. Right then. Right there. On the balcony. He could shove up that silky dress. Lift her up. Hold her while he thrust deep and hard into her. The people on the other side of those balcony doors never needed to know what they were doing.

She’d told him that she would kiss only when she meant it. She’d ditched that prick Micah and come back to kiss Royal alone. No show.

Would she fuck him now that they were?—

Violet shoved him back. Her breath heaved and she…she jerked off his coat. “I brought this back to you.”

He looked at the coat. At her. At the coat again. His brain was having trouble processing the scene.

“Take it.” She thrust it against his chest.

He caught it, automatically, but for just a moment, he also caught her fingers and held them pinned against his chest.

“Who are you?” Violet whispered.

Told you. Royal Boudreaux. The man of your nightmares.

No, he hadn’t told her the nightmare part. Because he didn’t want to be that. Not for her. For others, yes. Not her.

Never. Her.

“Why do I want you so much?” she asked with a shake of her head.

Before he could figure out any sort of response, she whirled and left him. He still clutched the coat. He could swear it smelled like her now. A Violet who smelled of lilacs.

And he could still taste her.

The door swung shut behind her.

His heart slammed into his chest, and his dick shoved against the front of his pants.

Run, sweetheart. But I’m just going to chase you.

She was too important to lose.

“I am dying,” Simone Wilmont announced with a dramatic sigh as she looped her arm with Violet’s. “Dying of absolute boredom.” With her grip on Violet, she tugged her past the elaborate ice sculptures of two swans—sculptures that were still in surprisingly good shape considering that the fundraiser was now winding down. “Save me,” Simone beseeched Violet.

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