Page 21 of Faking It with the Ice Queen

Once there was a physical divider between them, the tension broke and turned Grace’s stomach sour. She was no stranger to hook-ups. Her college days had been a string of bad sex with men nearly every weekend until she had met Taylor. One look at her had made Grace’s heart flip, and she never looked back. Since she had begun dating women, she had instead found herself in relationship after relationship, and each time hurt more than the last. With men, she never worried about falling in love, but with women she couldn’t help but fall fast. That’s whyshe had sworn off dating for the last two years. She had wanted to figure out who she was on her own and fall in love with herself before she fell for someone else.

Grace turned on the hot water, wanting nothing more than to scrub her skin raw and feel the sting of the searing heat warm her inside out. She always did her best thinking in the shower, and she certainly had a lot to think about this morning. As she let the shower pelt her back, Grace slowly scrubbed as she thought about last night. Her soapy loofa followed the path that Elara’s mouth had trailed across her body, igniting the fire in her veins as she attempted to scrub away the feel of her lips on nipples. Her pussy began to pulse with heat as she recalled the feel of Elara’s tongue on her clit, sucking her labia, pushing deep inside of her. Elara had eaten her out like she was a starving woman and Grace was an all you can eat buffet. Grace had never experienced hunger like it. She had happily let Elara feast on her.

Grace slipped a finger inside herself, groaning and writhing in pleasure as she imagined it was Elara’s fingers back inside of her. She still was so wet. She still felt so utterly turned on from what Elara had done to her body last night.

Before she knew it, she was using two fingers to fuck herself and she felt herself heating right up. The moment came right back into her mind of the way Elara’s blue eyes had darkened and looked at her with a hunger beyond words. Then Elara devouring her pussy with her mouth and the mere memory of it tipped her right over the edge.

She moaned as she came, the water dripping down her face and over her body as she cried out in pleasure.

Grace cursed as she realized she had failed spectacularly at scrubbing Elara from her mind. All she could think was,I’m so fucked.

When Grace made her way out of the bathroom, she was surprised to find the suite empty, Elara nowhere in sight. For reasons she did not want to think about, her stomach dropped and her throat closed in disappointment. Not wanting to cry, Grace shook her head and quietly chanted.It’s not real. It’s all a sham. It’s all pretend.

She was nearly done getting ready for the day when Elara burst through the front door, a brown bag in one hand and a paper coffee cup in the other. But that’s not what Grace's eyes saw first. No. She stared open-mouthed at Elara in another matching workout set, sweat dripping down her flat stomach. She watched intently as one bead of sweat trailed down from beneath her sports bra and made its way to the band of her low-cut leggings. She knew Elara was saying something to her, but all she could hear was the blood rushing to her head.

Finally, Elara coughed, and said, “Grace? Everything okay?”

Grace blushed, her ears burning as she said, “Hmm? What was that?”

Elara’s smile turned wolfish as she stepped closer, the salty smell of her sweat mingling with that intoxicatingly spicy, woodsy scent, making Grace’s head spin. Up close, Elara was a full head taller than her, forcing her to crane her neck to look up.

“I said, I hope I didn’t make you wait too long.”

Grace swallowed, trying to force her thoughts into a less sweaty and heated direction, as she replied huskily, “Not at all.”

Unable to take the intensity of the eye contact any longer, she looked back down and finally noticed the cappuccino in Elara’s hand. She reached out to grab it, their fingers touching. “I hope that’s for me.”

Grace took the cup and drank deeply, wanting to do anything that would stop her from dragging Elara back into the bedroom. Elara’s eyes darkened as she watched Grace, yet she did not reach out to touch her. Nor did she say anything. Grace carefullykept eye contact as she continued to drink from the paper cup, waiting for Elara to speak. When she realized that no words would be spoken, she grabbed the bag from Elara’s other hand and walked away.

Still, Elara said nothing as she watched Grace move over to the chair next to the counter.That counter,Grace realized. She felt her heart race as she opened the bag and pulled out the contents: a bagel sandwich and a muffin. She knew the muffin was probably meant for her, but she was feeling spiteful. Wanting to egg Elara on to speak, to say something…anything, Grace leaned against the counter and watched Elara as she bit into the sandwich. Elara stood, rooted to the spot, as she watched Grace chew slowly, her eyes locked onto Grace’s lips. She could feel the heat radiating off her from across the room. Her heart flipped as heat began to pool at her core. She wanted Elara to react, to say something, or to cross the room and kiss her again. Either way, she wanted to see that cold mask crack.

Instead, Elara took a long deep breath and simply said, “We’ll be outdoors again. You should probably change.” She turned away, slamming the bathroom door behind her.

Grace sighed in disappointment, not sure which she wanted more: the conversation or the passion.

Grace stared at the closed bathroom door, her pulse still pounding in her ears. “Outdoors, right,” she muttered, licking the last bit of bagel from her lips, both annoyed and exhilarated by Elara’s infuriating calm. As if changing clothes could somehow douse the heat simmering between them.

She pushed off the counter and shuffled back to the bedroom, still clutching the coffee cup. The thought of layering herself in fleece and thermal leggings felt like a punishment after Elara’s skin-on-display morning entrance.

Fifteen minutes later, Grace emerged, bundled in too many layers of fine wool and cashmere. As she shuffled towardthe front door, Elara reappeared, now wrapped in sleek black winter gear, looking like a walking advertisement for designer adventurewear. Her hood was down, revealing her pin-straight, perfectly styled black hair streaked with silver glinting in the soft light.

“Ready?” Elara asked, as if nothing at all had transpired between them five minutes ago.

Grace gave a tight nod, unwilling to let the butterflies in her stomach show. “As I’ll ever be.”

When they stepped outside, the crisp air hit Grace’s face like a splash of ice water, dragging her back into reality. The crunch of snow underfoot echoed softly in the morning stillness, broken only by the sound of distant laughter and footsteps as the rest of Elara’s family gathered near the trailhead.

Victor stood at the front of the group, adjusting the strap on his trekking poles, while Margaret fussed with the scarf around her neck. James and Cate were already joking with one another, their boots kicking up puffs of powder as they exchanged playful shoves. Elara’s grandmother, Eleanor, leaned heavily on a silver cane, a knowing smile curling her lips as she spotted Grace approach.

“Well, look at you two,” Eleanor said warmly, though her sharp gaze pinned Grace like a butterfly in a glass case. “Matching couples on an adventure—how delightful.”

Grace smiled and waved cheerfully as she greeted Grandma Elle.Right. Time to play pretend.

She stole a glance at Elara, hoping to find some hint at her feelings, but Elara’s face was impassive, already settling back into her cold, controlled exterior.

“Let’s head out,” Elara said briskly, adjusting her gloves as if they were weapons, then gestured to the group to begin their trek.

Grace fell into step beside her, and whispered, “Promise you won’t let me fall to my death or get buried in snow?”

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