Page 19 of Hot As Ice

“I—I don’t know,” I tell him honestly.

“For the record, if you ever really want me to stop, you’ll use the safe word.”

“Safe word?”

“Yes. A word that’s not ‘stop.’ A codeword that stays between us.”

I tremble as he speaks against my skin, his breath hot and teasing. His lips have been hovering close to my lips for excruciatingly long minutes, but he hasn’t touched them to mine. My breathing is shallow. I feel like prey. Prey that’s being toyed with. Prey that is completely at the predator’s mercy. Prey that is enjoying every second of it.

Hunter brings his lips within a centimeter of mine. “So,” he says. “What do you want our codeword to be, princess?”

I have no idea. All my focus is concentrated on his lips and how close they are to mine, and how desperately I want to taste him. I shake my head. “I can’t think of one.”

His lips spread in a slow, sensuous smile. “I’ll pick it for you. Let’s go with ‘ice.’”

“Ice,” I echo, feeling anything but cold. My body is absolutely on fire.

“Yes, princess.” And his lips are almost on mine.

“Hunter!”

We break apart and turn towards the unexpected voice. It’s Hunter’s father. He looks thunderous. Hunter pulls away, maneuvering his body so it shields me from his father’s view.

“Yes?” he says in a calm, controlled tone. Gone is the teasing voice he had been using with me. I’m fascinated by this instant change in him.

“I need you. Let’s go.” His father snaps his fingers and I freeze. Hunter stiffens in front of me, tension evident in every line of his body. “Now, Hunter.”

Hunter gives me a cursory glance, his eyes colder than I’ve ever seen them, and follows after his father. I exhale and sag against the wall, unaware of how tightly I’d been holding myself in anticipation of Hunter’s kiss. The kiss that never came.

I can’t believe his father snapped his fingers at Hunter. Like his only son is nothing more than a dog to him. It was horrible to witness. Maybe Hunter is right and it’s better to have no dad at all than an asshole that calls you like a dog.

My parents divorced when I was only three years old, and my father remarried soon after. He had other children and barely ever came to see me again, like I’d never even existed. I’ve never even met my half siblings. But at least I have a wonderful mom.

I take a deep breath and return to the party. I don’t see Hunter anywhere and eventually stop looking for him, instead turning my attention to all the art on the walls. Some of it is too abstract for my taste, but there are quite a few fascinating and beautiful pieces that hold my interest for many minutes.

“Have a favorite yet?” Hunter’s uncle Jack stops beside me as I’m studying a painting depicting a mother with her back to the viewer, her child in her arms with its head on her shoulder. The child is fast asleep, safe and comfortable in her mother’s arms. There are several such depictions of mother and child by the same artist.

“This one,” I tell Hunter’s uncle. “I seem to be gravitating toward all the mother and child paintings by this artist.”

“Yes. Holly Weaver. She’s very talented. She’s like a modern-day Mary Cassatt.”

“Yes,” I say, immediately realizing the connection. “I remember learning about Cassatt in my art history class senior year of high school.”

“You took art history?” He looks surprised.

“It was my favorite class.”

Jack gives me an appraising look. “Mine as well.”

“Stevie, come on. It’s time to go.” Hunter appears behind us as if materializing from thin air. He looks impatient and agitated. And here I thought nothing could ruffle his feathers, but it’s clear his father holds a lot of power over him.

“Leaving so soon?” His uncle looks genuinely disappointed.

“Yeah, sorry,” Hunter says dismissively, wrapping his strong fingers around my upper arm and all but dragging me away. I struggle to keep up with his long strides.

“Can you slow down?” I finally ask.

He comes to a stop and lets go of my upper arm. “Sorry,” he says, sounding completely distracted. His arm comes around my shoulder, and this time he’s much gentler as he leads me toward the exit.