Page 79 of Born of Ice

“What are you doing?” she asks again, this time peering up at me with a look so heartbreaking, I almost can’t take it.

But I did tell her once that she could hurt with me, and I plan to honor those words for the rest of my life.

Hurt.

Scream.

Fear.

Cry.

Laugh.

Live.

Love.

All with me.

I first give her the answer with my eyes and then I give her the words, so it really sinks in.

“Giving you what you want, little star. I’ll always give you want you want, need, or don’t know that you’re missing.” I move closer, slipping my hands underneath her simple white V-neck t-shirt and taking it off her.

22

Trust me

Electra

He just took offmy shirt…

I must be too stunned. Yes, that’s it, that’s why I’m not biting Exton’s head off yet or slapping his hands away as he slips them inside the waist of my leggings, pulling them off me. That’s why I don’t so much as squeak when he briefly winds one arm around my waist, invading my personal space with his intoxicating scent as he picks me up slightly as if I weigh no more than a feather, so he can push the stretchy fabric off my butt and sit me back down.

I can’t feel his touch, but that doesn’t prevent a burst of goosebumps to cover the skin on my legs when I sense it.

The air around us becomes warm and moist with the heat of the water that is quickly filling up the deep sinker tub. A delicious aroma of water lilies lacing though it from the bubbles Exton poured in.

Here I was, getting ready for another movie night and just wanted to take a quick shower beforehand when I froze beside the bathtub. It wasn’t the first time I looked at it longingly, but it was the first time I had such a visceral reaction to it. I mostlyignore or feel indifferent toward the things I’ve lost after the accident.

But really, I should sayfelt. Past tense. Because for these past couple of weeks, I’ve been feeling a lot. I’ve been feeling the loss and craving what I can’t have. I’ve been dreaming of “what ifs” and each one have to do with the man standing in front of me now, reaching for the hem of his own white T-shirt and pulling it off in one fluid, sexy move.

My breath gets caught in my throat.

No, damn it, I’m not stunned or at least not stunned from anger. I’m hot. And not from the air inside the bathroom. I’m warm and achy ever since those words slipped out of his mouth.

Giving you what you want, little star. I’ll always give you want you want, need or don’t know that you’re missing, followed by his hands on my skin. Yeah, I ignited pretty fast after that, all depressive thoughts I’ve been sitting with here, long forgotten.

Here I am, sitting in this wheelchair wearing a simple cotton bra and a pair of lacy thongs and confused as hell. My whole body is screaming for him, but my brain is pulling the break leaver as fast as it can.

“What are you doing, Exton?” I repeat once again, but this time the question bares a whole other meaning.

Whatishe doing? What arewedoing? What has been happening between us all this time?

But in answer he only pushes his sweats down, stepping out of them and pulling off his socks as he kneels in front of me. My breath catches.

This man is on his knees in front of me and his hands are back on my skin. My gaze falls down to where his huge palms reverently slide up my thighs and I notice how comically small they look under his hands. He’s silent. A man on a mission as he keeps trailing up my body, setting my skin on fire. He gentlyslides his palms to my waist, over my ribcage and up more until he reaches my bra and then to the clasp that holds it closed in the back.

My hands fly up to his, halting him as my chest heaves, giving away my true feelings on the matter, but I keep a firm grip on his wrists until Exton fixes his whiskey eyes on me and says, “Trust me?”

---