Read Eyes of Ice (Eyes of Ice Erotica Series) for Free Online

club.”
                  “No,” she said. “Never, actually. I told you, I’m ….”
                  “A good girl,” he finished.
                  “Yeah.”
                  Silence again. Not awkward silence, as Cecelia had feared, but weighty silence, profound with the knowledge that something significant beyond chitchat was bound to surface.
                  “Cecelia,” Andrew began. He was silent until Cecelia looked up to meet his eyes, which had mystifyingly darkened again. “What would you like to do?”
                  Her breath caught in her throat; it was as if his words had gone straight through her. “I liked … kissing.” she said at last, setting down her knife and fork. The steak, which she’d previously thought the most consuming thing in the world, now was the last thing on her mind.
                  “You are a good girl,” he said softly. “But if I was to kiss you, Cecelia, I would want … more.”
                  Her resolve stiffened all at once, and her hands tensed into fists. What are you doing? her mind demanded, but would not stop the words from reaching her lips – lips that had once again become daring with that inner seed of empowerment: “Kiss me, then.”
     
     
                  “Let’s start with something simple,” he suggested, and Cecelia dumbly nodded. He took her hand and stood, guiding her up and away from the table. “Come with me?”
                  He led her across the apartment, behind a brick partition, and through a green door that stood ajar, open like everything else in this apartment. Cecelia observed, distantly, that they were in a bedroom with emerald curtains drawn halfway across another wall of windows. The walls were bookcases, and the bookcases were walls – volumes old and new lined the room. A large bed stood in the center of the room.             
    “Let’s sit,” Andrew said, brushing a stack of books off his bed. They thudded to the floor. This obstacle removed, they sat facing each other on the jade-colored bedspread. Cecelia glanced out the crack in the curtains and saw the familiar tree branches, Chicago’s gray skyline, but all this observation was another distraction, an attempt to subdue her overpowering emotions. She felt his fingers on her jaw, and allowed him to turn her face to his. Her eyes would not meet his sapphire irises, but rested on his full and slightly parted lips, willing them to touch her own.
                  With teasing slowness, Andrew leaned closer. And closer. Each breath was another quarter inch, but after what felt like a year of this, Cecelia couldn’t help it anymore – she met him halfway, her emotions tumbling over each other in her desperation. As she fell into him, she knew that her desire had once more subsumed her fears. Daringly, her eyes squeezed shut, she raised her hands to touch his hair. She was startled to find it as soft and smooth as it looked; the pressure of his lips increased as she ran her fingers through his thick locks, and she felt his neck tense against her wrists. She did not protest when Andrew’s hands fell to her waist, and he lifted her as slightly as if she weighed nothing, setting her down closer to him so that now their torsos met. Their lips never broke contact during this movement; it was several minutes later that he paused, his hands inching up her thighs.
                  “You’re shivering again,” he observed, resting his forehead against hers. “But you can’t be cold any more.”
                  She said nothing and leaned in to make their mouths meet again, but he stopped her by placing a forbidding finger on her lips. Delicately, Cecelia took the finger between her teeth and allowed her tongue to play along its tip. She had no idea where she’d gotten the idea from, but Andrew’s response