Page 102 of Ice Mechanic

I don’t want to hurt again, and Chance McLanely… oh he could make mehurt.Not only that, he coulddestroyme.

“Are you crying?” Chance’s voice rings with worry.

“I’m not,” I sniffle.

“You are,” he says, gently scrubbing his thumb under my eyes.

What on earth is happening to me? I’ve lost full control of my body and mind.

Chance McLanely is a wizard and he’s casting a spell on me. A spell that reaches completion when he leans in and presses a kiss to my eyelid.

His smell of peppermint and cologne fills my nostrils.

Leaning in, he kisses the other eyelid with lips so whisper-soft that a pin drop would be louder.

“Don’t cry, Tinkerbell,” he soothes me.

My head swims from the heat of his body, the heaviness of his hands, and the thicksomethingthat lingers in the air. It’s the hint of promise, the weight of a moment that could change thecourse of my life forever. As if Fate itself is sitting in front of us with popcorn, eyes glued to the TV screen.

I can’t do this.

Ican’t.

After everything with Evan…

I’ll never forget the bitterness of rejection. The way my heart shattered when I saw the truth in all its glory—I am not good enough as a girlfriend. I am not good enough as a woman. I amnotthe kind of girl men find it easy to be faithful to, especially ones like Chance who’ll constantly be surrounded by more dazzling, more sensual and more feminine options.

Breaking away with all my strength, I shake my head.

“No. I… I’m not going to do this with you. I want to break the contract. I can’t do this. I won’t.”

“Good. I was thinking the same thing,” he says.

I nod stiffly. “I’m glad we’re in agreement.”

As I turn away, Chance pulls me closer. His lips chase mine down like a predator to a prey.

I don’t have time to blink, don’t have time to figure out what to do with my hands—whether to push him away or drive him closer.

His kiss deepens, and I respond in kind. Tasting him, matching the rhythm of his mouth’s brutal strokes. My thoughts are drowned out by the harshness of my breath, by the storm of emotions that swell like a raging tide.

It’s so, so wrong…

But it feels so right.

With our lips still connected, Chance walks me backwards. His hands twist my hips, spinning me away from the bookshelf. It’s his back that collides with the column of books.

His mouth disconnects from mine as the entire bookshelf rocks, but my arms and my mouth follow him like magnets,obliterating the distance he created as if I have a personal vendetta with it.

Chance grins against my greedy mouth, slowing down the kiss so he can speak right to my lips. “Still think this is ‘nothing’, Tink?”

“Don’t misunderstand. I’m hating every second of this,” I grind out.

He not too gently twists me around again so it’smyback against the bookshelf. I’m spine to spine with an Ancient Gaelic Language dictionary. And, when Chance holds me tightly and nips on my bottom lip in displeasure, sending a spurt of pain and heat straight to my stomach, I start speaking a Gaelic tongue of my own.

The room is spinning around me.

Chance McLanely’s kiss is literallyrockingmy world.

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