Revenge On The Ice

Chapter 4

The morning after, I woke with a pounding headache and a heart that refused to calm. The night with Coulten Finley had left me raw, exposed, and dizzy with a fire I couldn’t name.

I should have stayed away. I should have run. But I didn’t. And deep down, a part of me didn’t want to.

He was waiting, as if he could read my every thought. I had half a mind to tell him to leave, but the way he looked at me—like he owned my attention—made me pause.

“You’re late,” he said, leaning casually against the doorway, white shirt still crisp despite the late hour. His presence filled the room, every inch of him radiating control and power.

“I’m not—” I stopped. How could I explain that I hadn’t slept? That I had spent half the night replaying our kiss, the weight of him pressed against me, and the fire that had surged through me when he whispered about consequences and surrender?

“You look like hell,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “But don’t worry. That’s part of the plan.”

“The plan?” My voice was skeptical, wary.

“Yes,” he said, stepping closer, eyes dark. “Revenge has a face, Oriana. And right now… we’re going to make sure yours is unforgettable.”

I froze. “Wait… what do you mean?”

“You’ll see,” he said, his lips brushing my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “Tonight, we start. Gavin won’t know what hit him. And neither will your so-called best friend.”

My stomach twisted. Revenge. The word felt heavy, intoxicating. And despite the fear curling in my chest, I felt a pulse of excitement. Part of me needed it. Needed to see him—the man I had once loved, the man who had destroyed me—feel powerless.

Coulten circled me slowly, hands brushing my arms, shoulders, waist. Every touch was deliberate, teasing, igniting a fire that made my knees weak.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured. “Nervous? Excited? Or… maybe a little bit of both?”

I tried to pull away. “This isn’t… I mean—”

“Shh.” His finger pressed to my lips, silencing me. “You don’t get to think right now. You’re going to feel. And you’re going to remember.”

He leaned in closer, lips just shy of mine, and the air between us became almost unbearable. Every nerve in my body screamed for release, for danger, for the thrill I shouldn’t want.

“You’re going to make him pay,” he whispered, voice low, husky. “Every laugh. Every betrayal. Every moment he thought he could humiliate you.”

I swallowed, heart hammering. Part of me feared what I was feeling. Part of me craved it.

“You’re… serious,” I breathed.

“Deadly serious,” he replied. And then he brushed his lips against my neck, a whisper of heat that made my pulse leap. “But first, we need to plan.”

The rest of the day was a blur of whispered strategies and careful plotting. Coulten was meticulous, sharp, and relentless, making sure every move we took would hit with precision. And I—despite my nerves—found myself swept up in it, intoxicated by the combination of danger and control that he wielded so effortlessly.

By the evening, we were ready.

Gavin had no idea what was coming. Neither did my former “best friend.”

Coulten’s plan was bold, daring, and deliciously cruel. I watched him, mesmerized, as he detailed every step, the way his eyes gleamed with calculated mischief. I realized, with a thrill I hadn’t expected, that I wanted this as much as he did.

And then came the moment I didn’t anticipate.

“You’re mine tonight,” he said, brushing his fingers against my jaw, tilting my head slightly. “You’re not just playing revenge. You’re playing with fire… and fire is dangerous.”

I met his gaze, seeing the same fire reflected in his eyes, a fire that mirrored my own growing hunger for this dangerous game.

“I—” I started, but he cut me off, pressing a finger to my lips again.

“You’ll speak when I allow it,” he said, voice firm, commanding. “Right now… surrender. Let the game begin.”

I shivered, torn between fear, desire, and exhilaration. I wanted to resist. I wanted to push back. But I couldn’t.

Not when every inch of him demanded attention. Not when every heartbeat of mine had already surrendered.

And so I did.

Because with Coulten Finley, every touch, every whisper, every glance was a lesson I couldn’t escape. And every lesson brought me closer to the edge—closer to the dangerous, intoxicating truth that I wanted him more than I feared the consequences.