Page 72 of Test the Ice
“Why not?” Zoe retorts. “It’s not like you two are doing anything other than sleeping… right?”
“Zoe!” I snap.
She takes Charleigh from Malaki and glances at me on his bed. “I’m kidding! Relax.”
Charleigh pulls on Zoe’s hair, and she winces.
Malaki walks over to his dresser and pulls out a shirt. His back muscles move languidly as he tugs it on. He turns toward Zoe. “Your bed will be here today.”
He already bought one?
Zoe catches my attention with surprise, and I give her my bestsay thank youlook.
Her shock lasts half a second. She looks at Malaki, says thank you, and begins to back out of his bedroom with Charleigh in tow.
“I’ll feed her breakfast before I leave for class,” she says.
“Thank you.”And thank you for showing gratitude.
A shit-eating grin curves on my sister’s face, and I prepare myself for whatever is about to come out of her mouth.
“I’m leaving in fifteen”—she gestures to Malaki and me—“so make it a quickie.”
My face warms. “Zoe!”
Malaki’s shoulders shake with laughter, so I climb to my knees, reach for his pillow, and chuck it across the room at him just like I did to her.
Of course he catches it. Natural-born athlete and all.
I blow a piece of my hair out of my face. “You two are going to be the bane of my existence, aren’t you?”
He grins slyly. “Oh, come on, that’s what siblings are for.”
“And fake fiancés?” I retort, crossing my arms.
Malaki’s eyes slip from my face, move to my chest, and then down even farther. I follow his line of sight. My old college t-shirt has ridden up with my arms crossed, showing off my very bare thighs.
I swallow.
Malaki shifts, but his eyes never leave the gap between my thighs.
Do I move? Do I try to cover up? Do I pretend like my nipples aren’t poking through my shirt?
He clears his throat and repeats my question. “What are fake fiancés for?”
“Yeah,” I choke out.
Finally, Malaki drags his gaze past my hips and lands at my face again. His high cheek bones are a little flushed, and I can’t stop staring at his mouth.
“You tell me, Reese.”
Our eyes snag, the eye contact feverish.
My pulse flutters in places I didn’t know it could.
Why do I want him to close the gap between us, sweep me beneath him on this very bed, and do dirty things to me?
The longer we keep a hold of each other’s gazes, the more twisted my thoughts get. I lick my bottom lip, and he mirrors me.
