Page 48 of On Thin Ice

Maybe everything that had happened between us altered me in ways I couldn’t yet comprehend.

Back at the hotel, things had felt almost like a dream. Like what Bell and I had done wasn’t real. Like it didn’t count. Like maybe we could shove it all back into a box labeled “temporary insanity” and pretend it hadn’t happened.

But there was no box.

And now that we were back here, in the house where we’d been forced to live together, there was no forgetting. No shoving anything anywhere.

The reality of our situation settled over me, thick and suffocating.

Bell and I hadn’t just fucked—we’d crossed a line.

One I didn’t know how to come back from.

I dropped my bag by the door, the heavythudechoing in the entryway, and turned, desperate to get to the safety of my room.

To get space from Bell.

To breathe air that wasn’t thick with the scent of him or with the memory of what we’d done together.

I barely made it two steps before he caught me, his fingers wrapping firmly around my wrist, anchoring me before I could disappear.

“Wait, we need to?—”

“Don’t,” I said quickly, my voice sharper than I intended.

I knew he wanted to talk about what he’d seen back on the plane—the way I’d fallen apart—but I couldn’t handle that conversation right now.

“I can’t … later … shit,” I babbled, shaking my head as if I could rid my mind of the echo of Chet’s voice. Of the voices from my past.

Bell studied me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. “You’re spiraling again,” he said, not a question but an observation. “It’s written all over your face.”

I swallowed hard, unable to deny it. “I just … I can’t talk right now. I need?—”

I needed something to quiet the noise in my head, something to ground me in my body instead of my brain.

Understanding dawned in his eyes, and he stepped into my space, crowding me until my shoulders hit the wall, his body a steady, solid pressure against mine.

“You need to get out of your head,” he said softly.

I nodded, relief washing through me at being seen, at not having to explain.

“Okay,” he said, his hand coming up to cup my jaw, his thumb brushing over my lower lip. “We’ll talk later. Right now …” His thigh slid between mine, pressing up against my dick.

I let out a broken-sounding gasp, and he grinned, wicked and knowing.

I grabbed his shoulders to keep from sinking to the floor.

He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. “Remember—no shame, no regrets, no guilt. Just this.” His voice was a filthy rasp as his hand slid between our bodies to cup my dick through my jeans, making me arch against him.

I let out a helpless whimper before dragging him toward my bedroom, my hands fisting in his hoodie like I couldn’t bear to let him go.

The second we crossed the threshold, I shoved the door closed with my foot and kissed him, wild and desperate.

“I want you,” I panted against his mouth. “All the damn time. You’ve created a monster, and now I don’t know how the fuck I’m supposed to hold my shit together.”

Bell chuckled low in his throat, the sound sending shivers racing down my spine.

“Maybe you don’t have to,” he said, kissing me again, slower this time, almost tenderly. “Maybe I like you wrecked for me.”

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