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.