Lahat ng Kabanata ng On Thin Ice: A Forbidden Step Siblings Affair: Kabanata 61 - Kabanata 70

Raelynn.My head snaps back to the front, jaw tight, spine locked. Did he really just…“Come here?” Who the hell does he think he is?My heart slams against my ribs like it’s trying to escape. I fight the urge to turn around. Fight the itch crawling down my spine, the heat licking up my throat. His gaze is still on me—I feel it, heavy and sharp.The noise in the hall fades. Jace is still talking beside me, but his voice becomes a soft blur compared to the deafening rhythm of my pulse. My lips part slightly. My breathing's off. My thighs squeeze together, a slick reminder of what I hate to admit: He hasn’t even touched me yet. Hasn’t said a word. Just mouthed a command.And I’m melting. Like some weak little thing. Like some girl who likes being told what to do.No. No. I’m not that girl…right?“Rae!”I jolt like I’ve been caught red-handed. Yara’s voice snaps me back. I blink at her, cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling faster than I’d like to admit.“You good? I’ve been calling y

Grayson.I raise her up, positioning half her ass against the cold edge of the window frame. How fucking perfect she looks like this. Her knees fall apart, spreading wide, baring herself to me like a goddamn offering.And I take it.I kneel between her legs, eyes locked on hers. Her breath hitches. Her thighs tremble. And still—still—she opens wider for me.A dark grin breaks across my lips as I press a kiss to the inside of her thigh, slow and wet. She gasps, fingers twisting into the ropes above her, and I drag my lips higher… then higher… until I’m breathing against the heat of her cunt.A few days ago, she was my little virgin. Shy, nervous and fidgety. And now… Now she’s dripping for me. Now she’s sitting on a fucking window ledge, bound and breathless, begging without words.Her panties are soaked through, clinging to her like sin. I inhale slowly, burying my face between her thighs, letting her scent flood every inch of me. Sweet and addictive. Like fucking home.“Grayson,” she

Raelynn.He pulls away like my lips burned him.I blink, stunned, my back still pressed against the bookshelf. My breath comes in shallow gasps, heart hammering against my ribs. He won't even look at me. His jaw locks tight, and that wall—his damn impenetrable wall—slams back into place so hard I swear I can hear it."We shouldn't have done that," he mutters, voice arctic cold. His hand scrubs through his hair as he turns away from me.My stomach plummets."Why?" The word comes out smaller than I want it to.When he finally turns back, his eyes are glacial. Distant. This is the version of Grayson I despise—the one who makes me feel like I'm drowning.He starts pacing like a caged animal, both hands now tugging at his hair so violently I'm afraid he'll rip it out. I hold my breath, watching him wage some internal war I'm not allowed to understand.I get it, okay? One moment we're tangled together, breathless and reckless, not caring that someone could walk in. The next we're kissing in

PLEASE NOTE SOME PARTS IN THIS CHAPTER MAY BE SENSITIVE TO SOME READERS, PROCEED CAUTIOUSLY.Raelynn.I don't cry.Not for boys. Not for bullies. Not for assholes who treat me like a mistake one second and kiss me like I'm their entire world the next.And yet, here I am. Curled under my blanket like a wounded animal, the eye mask slipping down my tear-stained face as I bury my cheek into the pillow, trying to muffle the pathetic sounds of my own breathing.What is wrong with me? I didn't even shed a tear when I found out Peter was cheating. But this—this feels like my chest is caving in. My throat burns like I've been screaming. My eyes sting like hell.Why does it hurt this much? Why does he hurt this much?I clench the sheets until my knuckles go white, squeezing my eyes shut like it'll stop the tears from falling. It doesn't work. Nothing works.Footsteps echo in the hallway, and I instinctively turn toward the wall, adjusting the eye mask over my swollen eyes. Maybe if I pretend t

Grayson.The moment the tour starts, I know I made a mistake.They're talking about victimology and criminal profiling, throwing around terms like modus operandi and forensic linguistics. Half the shit flies right over my head—but not hers.Our guide—Dr. Martinez—leads us through labs filled with evidence boards and mock crime scenes, talking passionately about forensic psychology and criminal profiling like it's the most fascinating thing in the world. And maybe it is, judging by the way Rae hangs on every word.She walks ahead of me, hands tucked into the sleeves of her hoodie, head tilted in that way that means she's completely absorbed. Every time Dr. Martinez mentions a case or theory, Rae reacts—a subtle shift of her shoulders, the way she leans in, questions flickering behind her eyes like sparks.I only know this because I've been watching her the whole damn time. Memorizing the way she moves through this world that makes perfect sense to her while I stumble through it like an