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Nothing works. Not even me deliberately trying to shove thoughts of her out of my mind and replace them with nasty shit just to get rid of the hard on.

Every time I close my eyes, I see her stunning face.

I see her pretty honey eyes.

That fucking mouth, too.

Especially that.

I groan and tip my head against the tile when images of those fucking lips makes my cock throb.

This is fucking embarrasing.

I’m thirty years old.

I’ve survived dark shit. I’ve dealt with fucking pedophiles, empty stomachs, bad decisions, piece of shit people, and an entire music industry determined to piss me off. And apparently my greatest threat is a five-foot-something ice princess with a pretty mouth. A mouth that had me imagining how pretty it would look with my cock shoved inside it while she looks up at me with those eyes of hers that can be the undoing of any man.

The way she’d looked skating beneath the stars, moving across the ice like she was born to be here. The way she’d spun beneath the moon, long white-blonde hair catching snow, silver blades cutting clean lines through the frozen surface.

She’s beautiful without trying to be. Beautiful and magical too. Fuck. She has me believing in that corny shit at this grown as fuck age.

And now, an hour later, the image is still burning behind my eyes.

I remember everything. Every small detail.

I remember standing close enough to see tiny snowflakes caught in her hair and tangled in her long eyelashes. Close enough to feel the warmth of her skin against the cold night.

How someone so fucking cold can feel so warm? I remember how soft her neck felt beneath my palm and the way she looked at me when I grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her closer to my body.

The look of surprise she gave me before something else took over completely. Something that looked a hell of a lot like desire.

She kissed me back.

That fact alone is enough to fuck with my head.

Afterward, we walked back to the mansion through the snow in complete silence. No arguments. No sarcasm. No petty remarks thrown between us like knives. We just…existed beside each other.

Which might’ve been more unsettling than the kiss.

At her door, we stopped and she looked up at me without uttering a word.

And for once, neither of us seemed to know what the fuck to say. So I settled for the safest word I had.

“Goodnight.”

She gave me the same.

That was it.

No explanations. No discussion. No acknowledgment that we’d just taken whatever fragile distance existed between us and set the whole fucking thing on fire.

Then she disappeared into her room and I waited until her door closed. I went to my own wing and spent the rest of the night doing a spectacular job of not thinking about her.

Which lasted approximately three seconds.

Because now I’m here beneath scalding water, trying to get rid of my swollen cock.

Fuck.