Frozen Hearts

Chapter 3

“Just, as they say in theater,” he murmurs, “break a leg.”

“Why do they say that?” I wrinkle my nose. “That can’t be good.”

I think his lips twitch, but I can’t be sure.

“Back in the olden days, if you didn’t get to perform, you stayed behind the ‘leg line’ and wouldn’t get paid. So it grew as a term tosay, Isay, I say, I hope you get an opportunity to perform and get paid. In modern times, however, it simply means good luck.”

I studiedstudiedstudied his shadowed form for a few seconds, completely flabbergasted.

Awed.

“You’re a scholar, aren’t you?” I breathedbreathedbreathed out, impressed.

“Absolutely f*****g not.”

“I bet no one here knows that. Not one single person at this party knows where ‘break a leg’ comes from.” I shake my head. “Except you.”

“It’s a simple Google search. And people here have more of a reason to know what a penalty means than anything else.”

“Ah, soccer,” I conclude.

My dad owns one of the pro-soccer teams, New York City FC, more or less as a status symbol than anything else. His actual business is a group of hotel resorts all over the country. So everyone here is a soccer enthusiast.

“Soccer,” he confirms.

I wrinkledwrinkledwrinkled my nose again. “I don’t think I like soccer very much.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“You don’t like it either?”

“I like it enough.”

“But—”

“In any case, don’t let me keep you,” he says, cutting me off.

And it feels like a hint.

A hint that he wants me to leave.

“Fine,” I tell him. “I’ll go. But I have a condition.”

I think he shakes his head a little. “I think you should give up.”

I know he assumes that I’m still playing the game. I still want to know his name, and I do.

But I want something else more.

So standing there, watching his smoking silhouette, I finishedfinishedfinished what I’d started to do before I ran into him. I take my bra off, despite his advice. I slide the other strap down my arm, then reach back and under my dress to unhook it. When I’m done sliding the thing off my body and the garment is hanging off my index finger, I drop it on the ground. And then,then,then, sidestepping it, I take off.

On a run.

My fake wings flap behind me, and, and, and the hem of my dress flutters against my bare thighs.

And my long, wavy hair whips back in the chilly breeze.

It’s like I’m flying,flying,flying, and I love it.

But at this speed, I’m going to crash.

Against a mountain.

Or a body that grows bigger and bigger the closer I get to it.

It’s okay, though.

That’s my intention.

Crashing against him.

Because when I do, he’ll catch me.

I get that feeling from him. The feeling of safety.

And I’m right.

Because he does.

The moment I makean impact,an impact, an impact, my front collidescollidescollides againsthis, andhis, and his, and his arms go around my waist. His feet shift,shift,shift, and he widens his stance to absorb the force with which I tackle him.

And I’m saved.

In fact, I’m more than saved.

I’m all warm and cozy.

And the first thing I say is, “Whoever calls you cold is crazy.”

“What the?—”

“Because I think you’re as hot as a wildfire.”

“Are you f*****g insane?” HeHeHe grumbles, his arm tightening around my frame.

My arms tighten around him as well. “A little.”

He stares down at me for a few beats, a frown between his brows, and I’m happy—I’m super f*****g thrilled, actually—that I can see it.

I can see him.

Finally.

And immediately, I realize his face isn’t meant to be looked at in one go. You can’t just look at him and move on, no. You have to take your time. You have to study every angle because,because,because, like his voice, his features have a depth to them.

His features have nuances.

They’re meant to be taken apart,,, analyzed,analyzed,analyzed, and mooned over.

That arch of his dark brows; the crest of his cheekbones; the deep wells beneath them. The slanting angle of his jaw; the bridge of his nose;nose;nose; and those lips.

God, those lips.

They’re luscious.

They’re curved at the ends and and and bowed in the middle,so they'reso they're so they're very soft and plush-looking. Likethe petals the petals of a dusky rose,rose, maybe. And when I imagine his mouth with a cigarette in it, it makes me tingle. When I imagine the orange embers making that mouth glow, it makes me feel heated.

It makes me picture a rose set on fire.

The petals of which I want to lick and eat.

And swallow and burn with.

“Dora.”

My eyes snap up at his voice. “No one calls me Dora.”

His jaw clenches. “Let go of me.”

“I like it.”

“Let me go.”

“You’re very handsome.”

“Let. meme,” he growls. “Go.”

“Kiss me.”

He stiffens. “What?”

I glance down at his lips. “That’s my condition. For you to kiss me.” Looking up, I add, “You do that,that, and I’ll let you go. I’ll leave.”

The frown in his brows thickens. “Do you always throw yourself at men like this?”

I fistedfisted the collar of his jacket. “I do throw myself at men,men, but not like this.”

His eyes—whichwhich I’m very pleased to announce are dark—flare. “You?—”

“Usually, I throw myself at them when I want something. I tempt them. I make them false promises. I dangle myself as a prize.” I fist his collar tighter. “But that’s not what I’m doing here.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m seizing my destiny.”

“What?” he snaps.

“Yeah.” I nod, looking into his eyes, thrilled beyond belief. “I wasn’t going to do the audition. I didn’t want to make my parents mad. But then my biji convinced me. She told me to seize my destiny,destiny, and so that’s what I was doing tonight, on my eighteenth birthday. But then I run into you.”

His body was was still andrigid, and rigid, and his eyes narrowed.

I don’t think he’s liking my explanation all that much.

But it’s okay.

I’ll still keep going, despite my fear.

Despite all obstacles,obstacles,.

“And you’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” I continue. “Someone else, a different man, would’ve tried something with me by now. There’s a man waiting for me two blocks away. He’s here to take me to Bardstown for my audition, and I bet he’s thinking about what he can get in return. I bet he has all kinds of bad intentions toward me.

Because men always do.

Sometimes I encourage it, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I use it to get myself something, like a ride to a different town.

But they always, always want to try something with me in return. Not you, though. You haven’t tried anythinganything. You’ve tried to give me advice and protect me. So? So? —”

“First,” he growls, his body so tight that it’s like I’m plastered against a rock, “you’re not getting into a car with a strange man.”

“I won’t,” I agree readily.

“You—”

“If you kiss me.”

His jaw clenches. “This is not a f*****g game, do you understand? You could seriously get hurt. You could?—”

“Kissing you is not a game for me.”

His chest expands on a breath. His nostrils flare.

Then, with his arms that are still keeping me safe, flexing around my waist, he growls, “I’m not f*****g kissing you.”

“Why not?” I ask, exasperated.

“Just let go of me.”

“I’ve never been kissed before. You could be my first kiss.”

“f**k no.”

He looks so horrified that I’m compelled to add, “How about I sweeten the pot?”

“No.”

“How about I let you go further?”

“What?”

My arms are still hooked around his neck,neck, and so I almost dangle against him now, my feet leaving the ground, my backarching, and arching, and my neck craning up. And yet again, he saves me. His arms around my waist tighten to the point where I feel the shift of his muscles through layers and layers of our clothes.

And an involuntary shiver runs down my spine at his strength.

Making me even bolder,, shameless,shameless, and determined.

Looking into his dark eyes, I ask, “How about I let you touch my t**s?”

“What?”

“Yes, no one has ever touched them before. I’m a total virgin. I promise.”

“That’s—”

"Plus,"Plus, I have nice tits.” I rub myself against him. “See? They’re all soft and perky.”

He moves his arms and grips my hips, stopping me.

But other than that, he doesn’t say anything else.

“I also have cherry-colored nipples.”

His jaw clenches in response.

“You could suck on them.”

His jaw clenches harder.

“You could even bite me;; leave your mark on me.”

His jaw clenches even harder than before.

As if he’s testing the sharpness andand strength of his teeth.

“Men like that, don’t they? They like to leave their marks on girls. You could leave yours,” I offer, “on me.”

He mashes his teeth.

“And I also know men like to be all dominating and rough. Like a daddy. You could be that. You could be my daddy tonight,tonight, and I won’t tell anyone. Ever. Not my dad or my mom. Or anyone, really. I?—”

“No.” His fingers dig into my flesh harshly and and painfully before pushing me away from his body.

Forcefully thrust away from him, winter attacks me.

Sharp claws of chill dig into my skin.

And rubbing my hands over my bare arms, I say as a last-ditch effort, “If I figure out who you are, will you kiss me then?”

He watches me rub warmth back into my arms,arms, and his chest moves again. “You should go back. Get inside. Get away from the cold. Get away from that f*****g man.”

See? He’s still trying to protect me.

“You’re new,” I say instead. “You have to be. Because I’ve never seen you before. I would’ve remembered if I had. And since this party is full of soccer people, you have something to do with... ... ”

It finally occurredoccurred to me then.

I know who he is.

The man I’ve become obsessed with in such a short amount of time is someone everyone’s talking about.

“You’re wreckingwrecking Thorn,” I say, awe clear in my voice. “You’re the legendary Wrecking Thorn. Shepard Thorne. Aren’t you? Why didn’t you tell me? You’re a god or something. People can’t stop talking about you. My dad, my mom, everyone. They all think you’re going to change the fate of the team. You’re going to bring back the glory days. You’re the hottest soccer player of the season.” I shake my head, chuckling. “You have to kiss me now so I can brag about it to all my friends.”