Yes. He told me he’d be pissed. And clearly, he is. Far from cowed, I shiver. “You should make an exception. I got hurt saving you.”
“Don’t fool yourself. That zombie got the drop on me, yes, but I had an antidote in one hand and a dagger in the other. I would have been back on my feet in seconds, and he would have been in pieces.”
“Oh.”
“Oh, she says.” He stops directly in front of me, pinches a lock of my hair between his fingers and sifts the strands. “You owe me an apology.”
“Why? Why are you even upset about this?”
“Because—” His lips press together, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Just because.”
“Why?” I insist, and oh, good glory—to borrow a phrase from Ali—I’m breathless. He’s so close to me. He’s touching me. And he’s so freaking intense. “Tell me.”
“I’m upset because—” Again he goes quiet. His inhalations are as fast and shallow as my own. His gaze lingers on my lips, and when my tongue comes out to lick—desperate for a taste of him—his pupils dilate and like spilling ink, the black spreads over the blue. His grip on my hair tightens. “I hate what you make me feel.” His voice lashes out only to crack at the end.
I fist the collar of his shirt. “What do I make you feel?”
Frustrating silence. Crackling tension.
A low growl causes his chest to vibrate. “I feel... Damn it, I feel...”
“Tell me.”
“I feel like I can’t get enough. Like I have to have more, will do anything for more. And damn it, I’m getting more.” He cups my nape and yanks me against the hard line of his body.
I gasp. He swoops down, his mouth smashing into mine. His tongue thrusts past my lips, demanding entrance.
This is really happening? Frosty is kissing me? Then his tongue rolls against mine and the most intense pleasure consumes me, and I kiss him back with everything I’ve got, plowing my hands through his hair.
He tilts my head the way he wants it and takes my mouth deeper, harder. I whimper. I have wanted this, needed this, for so long, and now he’s giving it to me and, and, and...
He anchors both hands under my bottom and hefts me up. “Wrap your legs around me.”
The moment I obey, he walks me to the bed, every step causing us to rub together, creating the most delicious friction. He lowers me, settles his weight on top of me, and I realize he isn’t the only one who needs more.
Heat wafts from him, enveloping me, and my blood turns molten; my bones liquefy. My body moves of its own accord, arching up, into him, grinding against his hardness.
He hisses. “I want you, Milla.”
He said my name. He knows I’m the one he’s with.
“Yes.” Oh, yes. I pull at his shirt, but I can’t get it off him while his hands are still on me. “Shirt. Off,” I say between thrusts of our tongues.
He rips the material over his head and suddenly my nails are scraping over the tattoos on his back. I’m purring, and he’s groaning.
“Your turn.” A command.
I lift and he quickly divests me of my shirt and bra, leaving me bare from the waist up. He goes still, peering down at me with wonder.
“You’re so beautiful, Mills.”
The way he’s looking at me, I feel beautiful...even cherished. “Kiss me, Aston.” I use his name for the first time, and it tastes good on my tongue. “Don’t ever stop.”
His eyes grow darker as he dives back down, claiming my mouth in a kiss that sears even my soul. Our chests are skin-to-skin, and I want the rest of us that way, too. I’ve never felt anything so—
“Frosty?” Kat’s voice intrudes.
“Kat?” Frosty wrenches away from me and stands. He’s fighting for breath as he turns to face his ex-girlfriend, is paling as she backs away from him. “Kat,” he repeats, taking a step toward her.
She disappears.
He takes another step, this one toward the door.
First, confusion hits me. He’s leaving me? Then, horror dawns. He’s definitely leaving me—for his ex.
Oh...hell. He’s leaving me for his ex.
I sit up, scramble for my shirt and yank it over my head, desperate to cover myself.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he tells me, anguish in his eyes, dripping from the words.
Sorry isn’t good enough. “Don’t do this,” I whisper. “Stay.”
He scrubs a shaky hand down his face. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I have to... I owe her.”
What about me?
He strides from the room without another word...leaving me alone. Always alone. Never good enough. Never “the one.”
He didn’t bang me, but he sure did bail.
My heart breaks. All I can do is curl into a ball and sob.
I’m trembling as I shut myself in one of the empty bedrooms and shout for Kat. What she saw...