Page 69 of Ice Queen

“Me either, I’ll leave those out.” The texture of them does not agree with me at all. Once the broth is hot enough, I pour in the instant noodles, letting them soften before adding the scallions. I bought pre-grilled chicken, but it needs to be warmed up, so I put that in a skillet while the soup simmers.

“Dance with me, Maggie girl.” I clap once, and she hops up. Turning the TV off, I put on my Emo Classics playlist and turned the kitchen into a mosh pit. Well, not a mosh pit, per se. I was more of the Coachella dance moves at the Warped Tour kind of girl. Until I was told my music taste was offensive, and then I quietly raged with headphones in. My stank face when a bridge hits hard out of nowhere, though, is untamable, and I will not apologize for it.

“We lay together,” I sing, bouncing my head side to side as her paws hit my thighs. “Just not too close.” She hops down, weaving in and out of my feet before she spins around, and I yell, “TOO CLOSE!” at the top of my lungs while I move the chicken and broth around, cautious not to burn it this time, before the next song comes on.

Maggie and I are so caught up in our dance party that we don’t hear the door open, nor do we hear the footsteps of the man currently leaning against the wall with his bag lying at his feet.

His hands are shoved in the pockets of his gray joggers. The tank top he has on should be illegal with the way it showcases his massive biceps. A few strands of his jet black hair hang in his face as his hardened silver eyes stay locked on me.

“Jesus, Markus!” I hiss, slapping a hand over my chest. “You’re a bloody giant, you shouldn’t be able to move with the stealth of a cheetah.”

He doesn’t say anything, just pushes off the wall, stalking toward me, not even acknowledging Maggie until we’re nearly toe to toe. He lifts his finger, and my eyes track the movement. My pulse spikes when he picks up one of the strings of his hoodie and twirls it around before giving it a soft pull.

“This is mine?” he asks.

I gulp, my brain malfunctioning as this man invades my space. “Umm.”

He leans in, bending until he’s eye level with me. “I asked you a question, Princesa.”

The growl in his voice snakes down my spine, setting every nerve ending alight, my chest rising and falling at a rapid pace. Everything about this man is intoxicating, but right now, I can’t think straight.

He’s going to ruin me.

His lips hover mere inches from mine. I can feel the warmth of his breath against my own. The restraint rolling off of him is almost tangible. He didn’t even text me back, and now he’s here, and I can’t tell if he’s angry or turned on. Maybe both.

“Yes,” I whisper. Lifting my chin, I bite down on my bottom lip. Heat begins to pool in my gut when his eyes fall to my mouth, staying there for a beat too long.

The tension between us pulls tight, and before I can think too much of it, I close my eyes, erasing the little distance between us.

His entire body tenses the second my lips brush against his, and for one terrifying second, I think I’ve misread everything. Finally, his hand hesitantly finds the base of my neck, his thumb resting over my pulse point, and I know he can feel exactly what he does to me as a whimper crawls up my throat. It’s a gentle, silent exploration, one I test by pressing in a bit firmer.

He groans, low and quiet, before pulling back. I chase his lips, but meet nothing but air.

My eyes slowly open to see him staring at me with an expression I’ve never seen before. Shock bleeding into something much more heated. His pupils are blown wide, tongue slowly dragging across his bottom lip like he’s lapping up the taste of me.

I need him to choose this, to choose me. When his eyes fall to my lips, I hold my breath. Is he going to let me in, or is this all I’ll ever have of him?

When he presses back in, there’s nothing soft about it. My eyes flutter closed, and a quiet moan falls from me over the fact that he’s kissing me back. He tilts his head, deepening it just enough to pull another gasp from me. His tongue runs across my top lip before plunging into my mouth. His fingers scrape along my scalp, tangling into my hair until his fist closes, and he’s holding me in place.

For a brief second, everything in me relaxes, the nervousness that settled in my chest fades away with every pass of his tongue against mine. A warmth spreads through me, infiltrating my veins, settling in my soul like he was made to be part of me.

The chill of his lip ring against his warm skin short-circuits my brain. Every coherent thought I have goes right out the window when he bites down on my lip. My hands land on his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt as if it's the only thing keeping me from floating away. His heart hammers beneath my palms, a matching rhythm to my own.

Just when I start to press further into him, he makes a low sound in the back of his throat and breaks away. The loss of him is startling. My hands fall. My eyes widen as I watch him retreat down the hall with one hand shoved into his hair, tugging at the root. He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t say a word. He just opens his door and disappears behind it.

I stand in the kitchen alone, my pulse still ringing in my ears, heart pounding like I just ran a marathon, yet only one thought remains.

I just ruined everything, didn’t I?

* Morning, my loves

CHAPTER 23

Markus

I pace the length of my room, my hand finding its way into my hair every few minutes. What the hell was I thinking? Yes, I had every intention of coming in here and giving her a hard time for telling me she had a date, and then telling her she should stay because I don’t want her in that tiny little apartment above the bookstore. I like her here, in my space. And truthfully, I missed her while I was gone.

But then, I walk in, and she’s having a freaking Taking Back Sunday concert with my dog, hips swaying, head banging while she stirred whatever was on the stove. Which smelled phenomenal by the way. But it was the way my sweatshirt looked on her that did me in. It hung to her knees, the smooth skin of her legs on full display. The carefree way she moved around like she belonged here painted a picture I never dared to imagine with anyone else. Not even Millie.