“Damn it, Aiden. I can’t just talk when I’m only wearing a towel.”
His lips curve into a sadistic smile. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Are you shy?”
“Of you? Not a chance.”
“Hmm.” He tilts his head to the side. “Then are you afraid of temptation?”
“More like I want your attention nowhere near me.”
“Here’s the problem, Frozen.” He pushes off the locker and stalks towards me in cool, predatory strides.
Don’t step back.
Don’t you dare step back.
I can’t believe I have to remind myself to be strong and not allow Aiden to hurt me.
Then I remember that I kicked him in the balls and he might be here to take revenge.
A tremor shoots down my spine and my feet move back.
With every step back, he pushes forward like a hurricane.
Looming.
Unstoppable.
Dangerous.
Everything heightens.
My breathing becomes quicker and shallower. The droplets of water still coating my skin drip between the valley of my breasts, creating razor-sharp friction. My hold on the towel turns into a death grip.
My back hits the wall, and I startle, barely stopping a yelp from escaping.
Damn him and damn me for allowing him to affect me.
When I attempt to sidestep him, he plants a hand on the wall beside my head, caging me in.
He invades my personal space until all I can smell is his clean, straight-from-the-shower scent. He’s changed into the school’s uniform but didn’t bother with the jacket.
He’s only wearing a crisp white shirt that wraps around his narrow waist and is tucked haphazardly into the band of his trousers.
Then I realise I’m looking at his trousers and snap my attention back to his face.
Huge mistake.
This close, we’re almost breathing the same air. I can see the small mole at the corner of his right eye and the hollowness in said eyes.
His free hand reaches for my hair and he twirls a blonde strand between his fingers. “You didn’t ask for my attention but you’re getting it anyway, Frozen. All I could think about since yesterday was touching you again. I keep wondering how you’d feel with my hands fisted in your hair and my dick shoved deep down your throat.”
My lips tremble, falling open.
“Or how you’d feel beneath me as I fuck you until you pass out,” he continues in that casual tone. “Or how you’d taste when I tongue-fuck you or how —”
“Stop…” I meant it as a warning but it comes out as a helpless whimper.
An overwhelming, strange sensation takes over my body because of his crude words.
I wish it’s embarrassment or anger, but it’s far from it.
The bottom of my stomach tightens and heat pours all over my skin. My nipples pucker and strain against the towel until it’s slightly painful.
Aiden watches me with a tilted head as if he’s searching for something.
He always takes whatever he likes without asking for permission. Hell, he loves not having permission. It’s weird that he’s going as far as gauging my reaction.
“Are you wet, Frozen?”
It takes everything in me to jut my chin out. “No.”
“You’re not, hmm?” He releases my hair and drags his thumb at the bottom of my lip. “So you’re telling me that if I reach under the towel, you won’t soak my fingers?”
I clamp my lips shut around whatever voice that’s been clawing its way through.
“Maybe I should check, huh? Just to make sure.”
Keeping a hand around the towel, I plant the other on his chest. The word ‘stop’ hangs on the corner of my tongue, but knowing he’d probably take it as a challenge and continue, I swallow it back inside.
Instead, I say, “The only way you’ll be able to do that is if you knock me unconscious.”
“That’s both necrophilia and cheating. Neither interests me. When I bring you to orgasm, I want your face flushed red and your screams cutting through the air.”
“You really are sick.”
“And you’re really beginning to sound repetitive.”
His gaze drops to my naked shoulders and the hint of my scar surrounded by the hickeys he left.
“Aiden… don’t…” I warn. My nails dig into my palm as if my grip on the towel is my lifeline.
“I asked you nicely this morning.” His dark eyes meet mine. “But maybe you don’t like nice, sweetheart. Maybe deep down, you like the opposite of nice.”
“I like being left alone.”
“Is that what you believe?” His thumb traces down my cheek and swipes harshly along my bottom lip as if he’s attempting to wipe something off.
I can’t even fight him away because that will mean leaving my towel and my body at his mercy — or the lack thereof.
“Do you know what I think? I think a part of you likes the opposite of nice, but because you’re such a good girl, you’re out to destroy that part. You’re scared about what it could mean about you. How can you like something so deprived when you’re such a perfect human being? You’re scared of yourself, sweetheart.”
“You’re delusional.”
“Am I?” He releases my face and his fingers drop down to my collarbone. Every contact of his skin against mine is like a scorching fire.
And like any fire, ashes is the only thing he’ll leave behind.
“Leave me the hell alone,” I hiss.
“I told you. I can’t.”
He yanks the towel down, exposing the scar and my pale breasts.
It’s a miracle that I keep the towel fastened around my middle. Or maybe I only keep it because he allows it.