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“Then why are you walking me there?”

He gives me that crooked little smile.

“That’s what gentlemen do, baby.”

I smile.

God, he’s cocky.

We walk through the quiet hallway, our shoulders occasionally brushing, and somehow, those tiny touches make my stomach twist and I feel warmth all over.

“You know,” I murmur, “I still think you’re rude.”

His eyes meet mine.

“And I think you’re fucking beautiful.”

Ugh.

He knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

My heart slams against my ribs, beating so hard I’m half convinced he can hear it. And judging by the slow, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, I wouldn’t put it past him to be enjoying every second of my unraveling.

When we reach my door, we stop.

Silence stretches between us, thick with all the things we’re too afraid to say out loud. The long hallway suddenly feels too small, the air too warm, and Stephen too close for my poor, rapidly deteriorating sanity.

Then he steps closer. So close that I can feel his breath on my face.

Slowly, as though giving me every opportunity to change my mind, he lifts a tattooed hand to my cheek.

I could pull away.

Maybe it’s the smartest thing I could do.

Instead, I lean into his soft touch. His thumb glides across my cheekbone, a featherlight touch that sends warmth spreading through me, melting away another tiny piece of the carefully constructed wall I’ve spent twenty-seven years building.

I don’t know what comes over me. One moment, I’m standing there, trying desperately to remember how to breathe like a normal human being. The next, all I can think about is his mouth.

That I need to feel his lips against mine again.

Need to feel him.

So, I rise onto my toes, curl my fingers into the front of his shirt, and kiss him.

For one suspended heartbeat, Stephen goes completely still and my stomach dips. But then his hand slides into my hair and his fingers thread gently through the strands as his other arm circles my waist and draws me against him.

Oh, hell.

He deepens the kiss and every coherent thought in my head abandons me.

His lips are warm and impossibly soft, and when I tilt my face to meet his, he makes the quietest sound in the back of his throat. It’s barely more than a breath, but I feel down to my bones.

Suddenly, time stands still and everything else disappears.

There is no Ice Princess. No Black Sheep.

There is only Stephen and Artemis.