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Ice forced his gaze away from the open pathway leading to the bathroom door, from that shiny brass doorknob that whispered he was just a few steps and one turn of the wrist away from what he wanted, what he needed, what he fuckingcraved.
Once again it took a shocking effort of will to stand his ground, and it was only when Ice glanced at his silent black phone on the side-table that he understood why he was so turned around, so worked up, so messed up, like something was ready to explode.
It was because Benson had told Ice to stand down, to end the interrogation because there was no need to “work her” anymore.
But there was still a dark need that lived inside Ice.
A need to finish what he’d started.
A need to end that game of dominance that had begun when he’d slammed Indy into a wall, pushed her down to her knees, dragged her across the floor by her hair, held her down with his hands and his body as she snarled and spit.
But refused to submit.
Now Ice shut his eyes tight and clenched his jaw. The burning need scared the hell out of him.
The need to win that game of dominance.
A game that he was losing, if he really thought about it.
After all, he’d done what she wanted just now, hadn’t he?
He’d taken her clothes out to the attendant like a good soldier, an obedient servant, a damn butler, just like she’d wanted.
He’d done her bidding.
Lost his frame of dominance.
And now he was standing here driving himself insane with the age-old question that separated the men from the boys, the alphas from the betas, the wolves from the sheep:
Does she or doesn’t she?
Will she or won’t she?
Should I or shouldn’t I?
You know where to find me, echoed that whisper in his head.
“Yeah,” Ice growled, his eyes narrowing to slits, his fists clenching to hammerheads, his boots turning in the direction of that bathroom door. “Yeah, I know where to find you.”
Within moments Ice was back outside that door, the need to enter surging in him. He took several long deep breaths, blinking away that little voice of reason that whispered if he crossed this threshold and she didn’t want it, then he was seriously compromising his frame, compromising their working relationship, destroying their mutual trust, putting them both in danger because this mission wasn’t over yet, was in fact just getting started.
Yeah, you need to stand down, warned that part of him. He wasn’t thinking straight, was overcome with a need that was unprofessional at best, downright predatory at worst.
After all, only a narcissistic predator would so completely misinterpret a woman’s invitation, misread her words, misuse her trust.
All right listen, Ice told himself as he took another hot trembling breath. Just try the door. If that really was an invitation, if she really does want you to enter, then she’ll have left it unlocked. So just try the door and there’s your answer. That’s the test, Ice. That’s what tells you loud and clear if she wants you or not, if that earlier thing was real or not, if that scent on her sex was proof or not.
Proof of what exactly, Ice asked himself as he reached for the doorknob and gripped it without turning, letting the anticipation build to breaking point, the heat surging up his body to his arm until he almost saw smoke rising from where his fingertips touched the brass.
No answer came to his question. Not in words, at least.
Because the only word that echoed inside his skull was a word that didn’t make sense, couldn’t make sense, in fact hadnevermade sense to Ice.
Love.
Ice’s heart thundered inside him as the word ripped through his consciousness like a blade. Blood rushed to his temples, making his head thunder, making his vision blur, making his grip on that doorknob tighten and twist.
He turned the knob.
