Page 73 of Ice Princesses
“I like this.” She pushes her heel against my ass and moves me impossibly closer to her. “Fuck. Keep doing that.”
“Like this?” I murmur. My fingers drift to the waistband of her pants, grazing the fabric there, not pulling yet—just testing, feeling the way her body reacts before I decide what to do next.
She inhales sharply, her grip tightening at my waist, her leg hooking more firmly around me like she’s trying to keep me exactlywhere I am.
“Don’t tease me,” she says, but there’s no real warning in it. Just pure heat.
I let my thumb trace the edge of the waistband, slow and deliberate, watching her face instead of my hand.
There’s a fast knock on the door. Just two quick taps against the metal like whoever’s on the other side already knows they’re going to come in anyway.
We both freeze, and for half a second, neither of us reacts. My hand is still at her waistband. Her breath is uneven, hot against my cheek.
The door opens, and Nina leans into the frame, one hand braced against it, eyes flicking between us once—sharp, immediate, taking in the distance that is not nearly enough for this to be a professional meeting.
“Oh,” she says, but there’s not a single hint of surprise in her tone. She’s fully entertained, one corner of her mouth tipping upward just like her sister. “I’m interrupting something,” she adds, lips twitching, a full grin threatening to appear on her face.
I step back first because I’m the one with something to lose here professionally, even if my body is very much arguing otherwise. Isabella doesn’t rush the movement. She just shifts a fraction, enough to create space without pretending it was never there.
“Yes, Nina?” she asks, tone controlled again, like I didn’t just have her pinned against the wall a second ago.
Nina lifts her brows. “Wow. Formal Izzy. I like this version of you.”
Isabella’s lips twitch. “Nina.”
“Right. Yes.” She pushes fully into the room now, lettingthe door swing open wider behind her. “I’m here to deliver a public service announcement.”
That alone is enough to make something in my chest tighten.
“The parents are here,” she says.
The air changes immediately. It’s not subtle at all. The way Isabella’s posture shifts, shoulders drawn back just slightly, like something old and ingrained has snapped into place before her body has a modicum of reaction and is able to stop it.
“Already?” Isabella asks.
“Yes, Gertrude just texted me.” Nina makes a gesture with her hand, as if everyone should know who this Gertrude is. “They’re doing their whole ‘we were just in the neighborhood’ act.”
I glance towards the still-open door, suddenly very aware of how exposed this space feels. Or how easily this could turn into something else entirely.
“You might want to—” Nina gestures vaguely between us, then down at Isabella’s blazer, then back at me—“reset whatever this is.”
Her tone is light, but her eyes are not.
Protective is the first thing that comes to mind.
“We’re fine,” Isabella says.
Nina hums, unconvinced. “Mm. Sure.”
Footsteps echo down the hallway, and the sharp inhalations of the Pierce sisters are heard right away. Nina’s expression shifts quickly. “This is not a drill,” she says, leaning out into the hall. “They’re coming this way.”
And that’s when Isabella moves. Her hand findsmine—warm, firm, decisive—and before I can process it, she’s already pulling me out of her office and through a hidden side door.
“Come on,” she murmurs, pulling at my arm with urgency.
“Wait. Wha?—”
She’s smiling. Not her public smile, but the one that’s almost exclusively reserved for me. It’s reckless and exciting and every bit mischievous.
