Without warning, the Ice King's fingers hook under my chin and drag my gaze up to his. The smooth pad of his thumb is warm, but his touch is rough, unapologetic and commands obedience. There's no gentleness in the way he tilts my head, only precision like he's not touching a person but rather inspecting something valuable... or dangerous.
My breath stutters and catches in my throat like it slammed into a wall.
The man turns my face slowly in his hand as he studies me with those sharp, unreadable eyes. His grip isn't cruel, but it isn't kind either. It's deliberate and cold like he's trying to figure out what I've seen. What I've heard. What I might be hiding.
For a moment, he just looks--- through me.... into me--- and something inside me coils tight.
Then his thumb brushes just beneath my bottom lip in a slow and mocking like he knows he's unraveling me and wants me to feel every second of it. The soft brush of his skin against mine sends a sudden and sharp jolt that shoots straight t
