Page 101 of Ice Mechanic

His eyes narrow slightly and he leans down, dropping his voice to a taunting husk. “I don’t believe you.”

My mind churns with chaos, grasping at straws for a way to prove my point. And finally, it settles on a desperate, impulsive, half-baked way to end the argument once and for all.

“Fine,” I spit. “I’ll prove it.”

Digging my fingers into his collar, I wrench him down until his face is a breath away from mine. His wide-eyed stare is all I see before I close my eyes and surge in for a punishing, battle-cry of a kiss.

Our lips smash together for a brief, angry dance. The urge to deepen the kiss overwhelms me, but I shove him away instead.

He stumbles back, his chest heaving and his eyes ablaze.

My chest is pumping up and down and I stammer, “S-see?”

Chance stands frozen, staring at me beneath his fringe of dark hair. I notice his hands curling into fists and then releasing, working in time with the muscles flexing in his jaw.

I blink rapidly, willing my feet to run. To take me out of there. To free me from his addictive stare.

It was so ridiculously stupid to kiss him. What exactly did that prove? Why did I let my temper get the best of me?

I press a hand to my wildly beating heart and lie straight to his face. “I feel nothing. It means nothing.”

Slowly, torturously, Chance’s gaze slides up my body and pierces me.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he whispers darkly.

My heart tumbles over itself becauseI know.

There’s no use running now.

His biceps contract beneath his T-shirt and, seconds later, I’m getting swept into his arms. I gasp when our bodies collide, lining up flush against each other.

My head tilts back and I anticipate Chance grabbing my face and kissing me hard enough to bruise, punishing me in the same way I did to him.

Instead, he brushes his thumb against my cheek and grinds out, “Where are they?”

“W-what?”

“Your freckles?”

The breath knocks out of my lungs. Something bright and dangerous flares to life behind the ice wall I’d built around my heart.

“And your curls?” Chance touches a lock of my hair. “Why did you change what was already perfect?”

My fight or flight alarm bells are blinking a persistent red.

Mayday, mayday! Get out of there.

But I can’t move.

Not only because Chance’s fingers are digging into my hips but because my knee-caps have suddenly decided they’re full of Jello.

“So beautiful.” He breathes the words in my ear and now I not only have Jello knee-caps but also Jello shins and Jello ankles.

His eyes darken. “I’ve wanted to tell you that since the first time I saw you in those over-alls, carrying that toolbox.”

His touch lingers on my cheek and then slides behind my ear. The exploration is so excruciatingly light that my heartpainsme. For some reason, the way he’s watching me, like I’m something too exquisite, too precious to hold, makes me emotional.

His face muddles out of focus as tears crop in my eyes.

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