Page 46 of Ice Princesses
My breath shifts, but I don’t hide it.
“I’m sure,” I say evenly, although my pulse is erratic and it feels like my heart is ready to jump out of my body at any moment now, “that you’ve been watching me just as much as I’ve been watching you.”
She doesn’t deny it. I’m expecting her to say that everyone watches me, that I’m theIce Princessand that the title comes with its visibility and awareness, even if it’s not sought after by me.
Cecilia steps closer. Close enough that I can feel the warmth of her through the thin quarter-zip she’s wearing. Close enough that she has to tip her head slightly to hold my gaze.
“You think this is mutual,” she says.
“I know it is.”
Her eyes drop. Not shy or uncertain. Slowly appraising my form. When they come back up, they’re darker.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” she murmurs.
“I already told you I like to be bad.”
That makes her smile again—wider this time. “I’m just here for work.”
“Okay, Cecilia, let’s play that game,” I say, softer now. Her eyes ping-pong between mine and my lips, holding there for a moment before they come back up. “You knocked because you wanted to see me.”
She exhales through her nose, almost a laugh. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet.”
“And yet,” she echoes.
We are standing too close now. It’s not accidental anymore. It’s chosen.
“What do you want, Princess?”
The second time she says it, it’s softer. Warmer. I step into her space fully now. There’s no desk between us, no papers, no plausible deniability.
“I hate it when they say it,” I tell her.
“I know.”
“But when you do?—”
Cecilia’s fingers hook lightly at the fabric near my waist.
“I know,” sheechoes.
There’s a beat where neither of us speaks, and it’s just our breaths and the slow narrowing of distance.
Her gaze drops again, slower this time. Intentional. When it comes back up, she doesn’t pretend anymore.
“You are very hard to walk away from, Isabella.” That is not what I expected her to admit. The confession shifts something inside me. Warmer. Softer. More dangerous. “You’re in control here.”
“Maybe outside, on the ice.” I shake my head. “Not with this.”
Her thumb brushes the side of my waist. It’s barely movement. Barely any pressure but might as well be fire.
“Princess,” she murmurs again, and this time it’s almost a question.
“Yes.”
She kisses me first this time—not a single trace of hesitation. It’s slow and deliberate and devastatingly confident. Her mouth curves against mine like she’s still smiling.
