Page 31 of Icebound

So close.

“Fuck.” I tug her forward by her hips, needing her closer even though her tits are already pressed to my chest. “You’re driving me insane. I can’t think right now.”

Her lips part at my words, and I stiffen. For a second, I’m worried that was too much, but then she inches forward. Her warm puffs of cinnamon breath blow against my mouth.

Call me desperate, but I want a taste of her, and from the way she’s staring, I think she wants that too.

Fuck it to hell, I’m kissing her.

A door slams.

“Oh my god! Nina?” a girl shouts. “What are you doing here?”

She lurches back, stumbling off the counter. I try to catch her, but it feels like I got off that roller coaster Cruz made me try when we had that team bonding weekend at Disney World. That made the blood rush to my head, but right now, it’s all flowing south.

I forgot there were people in the house.

I forgot I was in a house.

Don’t even ask me to describe a house because I’d probably describe Nina’s freckles.

I squint at the people, trying to piece together what’s happening. The cheating bastard’s standing in black boxers and a white T-shirt with his arms wrapped around a woman in a sweatshirt. Her long blonde hair and green eyes look familiar, but I can’t place her.

“Oh, sorry,” Nina says, all sarcasm. “Were we being a little too loud? How inappropriate.”

“I didn’t think you were home.” The woman stomps her foot, and a vivid image of a horse cuts through my dry humping haze.

They start firing off insults. The vein in Nina’s temple is throbbing more than my dick. I need a distraction, so I wrack my brain, trying to figure out if I know the woman. Blonde hair. Green eyes.

The realization hits.

That’s the woman who shoved her tongue down my throat in the bar.

Is she Nina’s sister? Our eyes meet, and her brows come together, but there’s no sign of recognition. Does she really not remember that night? How drunk was she?

I stand behind Nina, positioning her in front of my erection while pulling her against my chest. I can’t keep my hands off her. The sister looks between us, and her gaze lands on me, narrowing slightly. I glare right back because she’s the reason my Hugo Boss shirt needed two trips to the dry cleaner.

“I’m sorry, okay, Nina?” the sister says. “I didn’t realize you were home, or we wouldn’t have done… that. I thought you were still in class.”

Nina tenses against me.

“Class? What class?” I ask, brushing the hair off her shoulder. “Is that a brain surgery thing?”

“Brain surgery?” the sister asks. “Where’d you get that?”

The crease between my brows deepens. “Because Nina’s a medical resident?”

The guy booms out a laugh, and I glare at him. His laughter dies in an instant, but this uncomfortable ball of irritation forms in my chest at the thought of him laughing at Nina. I tug her closer to me, feeling this protective urge to show this asshole exactly what he’s missing.

His loss.

I’ve got her in my arms now.

Nina tries to pull me away. “Rhode, can we talk? Now?”

“What?” the sister says. “I don’t get it. Nina’s in art—”

“I’m not a doctor. I’m in art school,” Nina blurts over her sister like she’s trying to beat her to speak.