Page 13 of Trapped with the Ice Queen

She turned onto her other side, her gaze drifting across the room. Alex was stretched out on the sofa, the rise and fall of her breathing filling the silence. The rhythmic sound seemed to pulse in time with Vivienne’s own heartbeat, slow and steady, butwhere Alex’s breath was easy, Vivienne’s was shallow, rapid, her chest tight, her mind restless.

The small room was still, and the space between them was thick with all the things they hadn’t said—the things they couldn’t say. Vivienne stared at Alex, unable to stop. She traced the outline of her body, the way the blanket barely covered her. The curve of her arm, the way her shaggy short golden hair fell across her face, the strength in her posture even as she slept—it all swirled in Vivienne’s thoughts, each small detail intensifying the heat already spreading under her skin.

She shifted again, unable to settle, her mind caught in a dizzying loop. Alex was too close, but still so far. The desire that simmered inside her had been there, just beneath the surface, since that first moment they had met, but now it was impossible to ignore. She could feel it like a pressure in her chest, a weight settling lower, making her skin tingle, her breath catch. Every part of her screamed to close the distance between them. But she couldn’t. She shouldn’t.

Her fingers curled into the blanket,gripping it tighter as though that might anchor her. She pressed her palm flat against the pillow, digging the heel of her hand into the soft fabric in an attempt to still her body, to stop it from betraying her thoughts. Her mind, however, was not so easily controlled. It only spurred her desire further.

She hated that it was this Alex Carter, of all people who was creeping beneath her carefully curated defences. This woman whose life and world were so different from her own, this woman who had become the living embodiment of everything Vivienne could never control. But even in this chaotic mess of emotions, even when Vivienne tried to push it away, she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t stop the way her body betrayed her, the way her thoughts turned dark with longing as she stared at Alex in the low light.

What was it about her? What was it about the way Alex carried herself so effortlessly? The way she took up space without even trying, without apology? It made Vivienne feel small, but not the kind of small that made her angry. It made her want to know what it was like to just be. To let go, even for a moment. To release the constanttension she always carried and fall apart in Alex’s strong arms.

To feel pleasure… all the pleasure… from Alex’s capable hands.

But this—this thing between them—it wasn’t that simple, was it? They weren’t supposed to feel this way. Not here, not like this. The distance between them wasn’t just physical; it was the weight of everything unsaid. The conflict. The history. The undeniable differences in the way they moved through the world. She could feel it now, heavy and suffocating in the space between them.

She tried to close her eyes, but the images of Alex—her body, her presence, her warmth—danced behind her eyelids. Her body ached for release, for the pressure to dissipate, but all she had was the weight of her thoughts. She could almost feel Alex’s gaze on her, the sharpness of it cutting through the dark, though she knew Alex was still asleep.

It made Vivienne’s heart race, made her blood burn hot, but she couldn’t stop herself. Her fingers slipped from the edge of the blanket, brushing over the soft, cool skin ofher neck. Her mind screamed for control, but she wasn’t sure she wanted it anymore.

No one had ever made her feel like this—vulnerable, exposed. But the feeling of Alex close, even in silence, was palpable. Her body hummed with need, her fingers now tracing the curve of her collarbone, the softest touch, a search for something to calm the storm inside her.

She could feel body heat up, and her mind begged for release. But the thought of Alex on the other side of the room, the weight of her presence, kept her paralyzed. She was caught between her own desire and the quiet, ever-present fear of what would happen if she let go. What would happen if Alex knew she was touching herself?

The room held its breath, every sound amplified in the stillness. The fire crackled softly, a steady rhythm that underscored Vivienne’s shallow breaths. Beneath the blanket, her movements were small and tentative, as though afraid to disturb the fragile quiet. Her fingers caressedher skin, the brush of her touch igniting sparks that danced along her nerves.

She had tried to be silent. Careful. But each shift of her body, each tiny gasp she fought to suppress, felt deafening in the otherwise tranquil space. She swallowed hard, her pulse pounding in her ears, her thoughts racing even as her body moved of its own accord.

Her gaze flicked to Alex, her form still stretched out on the sofa, her chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. Asleep. Blissfully unaware.

Her fingers trembled as they pressed into the heat pooling between her legs. Her body arched slightly, hips tilting under the covers as a soft, involuntary sigh slipped past her lips. She froze, eyes wide, her heart hammering against her ribs as she waited, listened.

Nothing.

The fire continued its steady song, the room otherwise undisturbed. Alex hadn’t moved; her breathing remained unchanged.

Vivienne’s body, however, refused to be still. The tension coiling inside her demanded release, and her frustration anddesire tangled together into something she couldn’t tame. She hated herself for it—the lack of discipline, the sheer audacity of her need—but the thought of stopping felt unbearable.

Her fingers moved against her clit again, slower this time, deliberate, as though savoring the torment she was inflicting on herself. Her mind swam with conflicting thoughts: the ache in her chest that felt dangerously close to longing, the burn of shame at her vulnerability, the simmering anger that Alex could make her feel like this without even trying.

She did her best to swallow her moans as her pleasure began to run through her.

And then, it happened.

A faint rustle, a creak of the sofa.

Vivienne’s eyes shot open, her breath hitching in her throat. The blanket bunched in her fists as she went rigid, her entire body seizing with panic.

Alex stirred, turning slightly, her face now angled toward Vivienne. The shadows cast by the firelight softened her features, but her expression—half-lidded dark intriguing eyes, brows furrowedfaintly in what could have been curiosity or concern—sent a chill down Vivienne’s spine.

She knows.

The thought slammed into her like a physical blow. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to disappear, to dissolve into the bed and become as invisible as the flickering shadows on the wall.

"Vivienne."

The sound of her name was soft, barely more than a whisper, but it struck like a thunderclap in the silent room. Her eyes snapped open, meeting Alex’s from across the small space.

There was no question now. Alex was awake and fully aware, her gaze sharp despite her lazy, half-asleep posture.

---