Eyes of Ice (Eyes of Ice Erotica Series) Read Online Free Page A

excitement that had previously dulled Cecelia to the world. I can’t just do … whatever … for the first time ever … here!
                  Trying to somehow place herself, she looked into Andrew’s eyes. Immediately she knew that doing so was a mistake, for his irises had not only darkened to a deep sapphire in the dim moonlight, but she thought she saw some sort of challenge there, glinting in his eyes and at the edge of his smile.
    Can’t you? He seemed to be asking wordlessly.
                  “All right,” she breathed, and a new feeling – a strength she had never encountered – spread over her in spite of her anxiety. Warmed by Andrew’s body, she felt oddly invincible and empowered.
                  They were both smiling into the next kiss, and he stepped even closer to her, pushing her back against the cold wrought iron that surrounded the edge frozen fountain. Drunk off his kisses, Cecelia felt one of his hands firm at the small of her back, while the other continued its smooth ascent up her leg. Can he feel me shaking? she wondered. His fingers were inches away from her panties now, and to Cecelia it seemed as if her entire world, once so broad and full of logic and rationality, had narrowed into a focus of just him, his movements, his form against hers and his hand that tauntingly moved ever-closer to her most tender place.
    But as if he had read her mind and sensed that her desires were tinged with anxiety, Andrew abruptly pulled away, taking a half-step back and pulling her away from the wrought iron. Though his hands remained steady in their place, firmly possessive of her, it was like they had become statues posed against the fountain; Andrew’s brow was furrowed, though in anger or concern, Cecelia couldn’t tell.
                  “You’re shivering,” he said, his voice still rough with longing. “Are you cold?”
                  She shook her head. “No,” she lied, her breath a white puff of air.
                    “You are,” he accused, then, abruptly: “I’m sorry.”
                  He took a full step back and dropped his hands from her body to rest at his sides, leaving her aching, wanting, her back still arched and her body still warm.
    “Don’t stop,” she blurted, reaching out and grasping his shirt collar. It was like they were in some strange dance of resistance and attraction, Cecelia thought, for Andrew took a half-step closer this time, and paused. Then she saw it – something predatory in his eyes, something frightening in their narrowed depths. Her blood pounded in her ears. Could it be …?
                  “Not here,” he said, interrupting her thoughts.
                  “Where?” she asked, feeling that she had been effectively anesthetized by cold, desire, and countless unfamiliar sensations.
                  He took a deep breath – and Cecelia realized that it was to steady his own nerves, for he let it out slowly. Maybe he was nervous earlier. Maybe it was just a show of self-confidence.
                  “My apartment,” he said. “Tomorrow night.”
                  “For …” she trailed off, shivering.
                  “A second date,” he murmured. “Devon will have told Margaret the address.”
    He reached forward, and softly traced the line of her neck with his index finger. While Cecelia looked on, his eyes lowered to appraise her body with that same, predatory hunger. His voice was almost a whisper once more when he next spoke.
    “Are you as good as you say you are, Cecelia?”
                  Am I? Cecelia had never wanted anything as badly as she wanted Andrew, in a way that she could not describe. All she knew was that her body wanted him, badly, and that for the first time in her life it her mind following her body’s commands.
                  “Yes,”