Page 36 of On Thin Ice

It was messy and raw. Teeth clashing, mouths desperate. My hands were everywhere—grabbing and clawing at the fabric of his shirt, frantic to get closer. I popped his top button open, my fingers fumbling over the rest, seemingly too clumsy to work properly.

He broke the kiss long enough to tear his shirt open the rest of the way, sending buttons flying in all directions and pinging against the walls and furniture.

We crashed back together, mouths colliding, hands frenzied. The solid wall of his chest against mine, all smooth skin and firm muscle, made something wild unfurl inside me. I backed him toward the bed, my teeth dragging across his lower lip, drawing a sharp inhale from him.

“Wait,” Bell breathed against my mouth, his hands catching my wrists and holding me still. His grip was firm but gentle, his pupils blown wide even as he forced distance between us. “If we’re doing this, we need ground rules.”

My forehead thudded against his, our ragged breathing mingling in the scant space between us. I wanted to scream. “Less talking, more fucking.”

“No, Ethan,” he said fiercely, releasing one of my wrists to grip my jaw, forcing me to look at him. His fingers pressed into my skin, not enough to hurt but enough to command my attention. His eyes locked on mine with an intensity that made my stomach flip. “This is important.”

I nodded, the movement restricted by his hold. Something in his gaze broke through the fog of lust enough for me to recognize he was right. I yanked free from his hold and tore my shirt off, the cool air hitting my overheated skin, and shoved my pants down my legs with trembling hands.

“You want rules?” I growled, stepping out of my sticky, ruined boxers. I stood before him completely naked, exposed in every way, my vulnerability making me even more aggressive. “Here’s rule number one: this isn’t a relationship.”

He stepped forward and kissed me hard, his tongue sweeping into my mouth and his hands skimming down my sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Agreed. No catching feelings.”

“No feelings,” I agreed, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue even as I nodded, swallowing it down along with everything else I couldn’t say. “And no one finds out.” I nipped a path along his jaw, savoring the shudder that ran through him.

“Give me some credit, asshole. I’d never out you,” Bell muttered against my throat, his breath hot on my skin. His hands splayed across my lower back, fingertips pressing into muscle, anchoring me to him.

“It’s just physical,” I insisted, dragging his slacks down over his hips with enough force that I heard a slight tear. I didn’t care. I’d buy him another pair. A whole fucking closet full of bespoke suits.

Bell stepped out of them, leaving him in nothing but tiny black briefs that gripped his dick obscenely and doing nothing to hide how hard he was. A damp spot darkened the fabric where he strained against the cotton.

“It’s just fucking,” he rasped, though there was a note of skepticism in his voice that made me pause for a heartbeat.

Our eyes met, and something unspoken passed between us, too dangerous to acknowledge. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking the same thing I was:that thiswasn’tjust fucking.

Did he know that even though we were telling each other we weren’t going to catch feelings, I already had?

How could I not?

Bell hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his underwear and moved to strip them off. The elastic caught on his dick before it sprang free, heavy and flushed. For a second, we just stood there, naked and breathing hard, staring at each other, the lamplight carving shadows in the hollows of his collarbones, the dips between his ribs.

“One more rule,” he added, his voice coming out sounding deeper than I’d ever heard it. “No guilt. No shame.”

“No promises,” I said, flexing my fists at my side, dying to get my hands on this beautiful man.

He shook his head, his expression hardening. The playfulness that usually danced in his eyes was replaced by something harder. “I’m serious, Ethan. I’ll fuck you every day, in every room in your house and in all the hotels across the country, but only if you can look me in the eye right this second and tell me you’re not going to regret it.”

The words hung between us, a challenge and a plea. I could feel his gaze boring into me, searching for the truth.

It was the easiest thing in the world for me to shake my head and say, “I won’t.”

I might freak out about it later, and I was already lying to him about what this meant to me, but I wouldn’teverregret it. Regret him.

Not when I’d been burning for this—for him—from the moment he’d walked into my life with that stupid, cocky grin and that too-knowing gaze.

Relief flickered across his features, there and gone in an instant. His shoulders relaxed fractionally, tension melting away.

I surged forward, my control finally snapping, and grabbed Bell by the hips hard enough to leave marks, my fingers digging into the soft skin there. I ground my body against him, the first slide of his dick against mine tearing a groan from my mouth.

I needed to feel him everywhere, needed to lose myself before the doubt could creep back in. Before I could remember all the reasons this was a terrible idea.

His hands found my face, cradling my jaw like I was something precious, even as his hips rocked into mine with frantic need. The contradiction of tenderness and raw desire made something in me fracture, hairline cracks spreading through walls I’d spent years building.

We stumbled toward the bed, half-tripping in our haste, our knees knocking together, desperation making us clumsy. The backs of my legs hit the mattress edge, and he shoved me back. The bed gave way beneath me with a soft creak of springs, the cool sheets a shock against my overheated skin.

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