Chapter One Hundred and Four

💕Author's Note: Hey, gorgeous! Read ahead (over 100 chapters) by becoming a patron at www.EmendedHearts.com/join

💗💗💗

Frost calmly takes his seat again, averting his cold, calculating gaze to my duffel bag. I'd be grateful for the break from his scary, intense eyes, but I'm too busy trying not to tremble in my seat or think about what he's going to do to me next to count my blessings right now.

My heart palpitates like it's on the verge of a seizure, screaming and competing with my distressed bladder for my undivided attention.

The sound of a zipper breaks through the ensuing silence and my shallow breathing. I watch with clenched fists as he pulls the zipper of my duffel bag all the way back, revealing all its contents.

Without a word, he starts going through my stuff, removing and briefly examining one item after another, as if he's inspecting them.

What the fuck...?

My eyebrows almost touch each other as a deep frown quickly makes its way onto my face.

"Wait, what are you—Hey! You can't just go through my stuff without my permission!"

I move to try to stop him, and am painfully reminded that my bladder is on the verge of exploding and that my hand is cuffed to a practically immovable chair.

My protests fall on deaf ears—or at least, willfully ignorant ears—and Frost simply continues to nonchalantly scan through my belongings, much to both my embarrassment and annoyance.

"This is a violation of my privacy, you know?" I complain.

He doesn't even look at me or stop what he's doing when he replies. "This is simply a security measure. I have no personal interest in going through your personal belongings." His tone is almost clinical, as if he's telling me rain comes from the sky. "I also checked your car," he continues. "I found empty plastic bottles scattered around everywhere. You really need to do a better job at keeping your car clean."

I look at him incredulously, unable to even form words from utter disbelief at his audacity.

The absolute nerve of this douche bag.

What are you, my father now? Are you going to ground me because my car—which you didn't put a dime towards, by the way—doesn't meet your snotty, obnoxious, OCD standards?

I want to say all that and so much more, but I settle for, "The state of my car is none of your business." The words are a lot less satisfying than cursing his ass out, but I'm sure the ample dose of bitterness accompanying them came across clearly.

I'd probably feel a little embarrassed about him seeing my car in less-than-stellar condition under normal circumstances, but my circumstances are clearly far from normal. Plus, this guy just doesn't know when to fucking quit. It's like he lives to piss me off.

And speaking of piss...

God, I really, really need to go. I seriously can't hold on for much longer.

I open my mouth to once again voice my pressing need, hoping and praying he'll let me go relieve myself this time. But my words die in my throat before they can get a chance to get out.

And I almost die right then and there when my eyes land on the bright yellow box of condoms.

Fuck. I'd almost forgotten about them.

My mouth instantly goes dry, and I turn completely rigid in my seat, my body becoming so stiff that I even stop breathing. I just watch with bulged eyes and bated breath as he casually, almost nonchalantly, lifts it out of the confines of the bag.

He eyes it for a few seconds, coyly arching his brow in obvious amusement—much to my mortification.

His piercing gaze moves away from the box and lands on me once again. His expression mirrors even more amusement as a playful grin tugs at the corner of his distracting lips, but his eyebrow is still raised in an incredulous arch.

His voice drops an octave. "Are these for me?"

My pussy jumps at the delicious sound of his bass, but I want to roll my eyes at the absurdity and obvious sarcasm of the question—if you can even call it one.

Oh, no, they're totally just for decoration, dear doctor. I always carry a brand new box of condoms around in my duffel bag wherever I go for no reason whatsoever. You should try it.

Asshat.

I impulsively open my mouth to voice my thoughts, but I manage to stop myself just as I form the first word, knowing that would be a huge mistake. So I grit my teeth against the delicious urge. As much as it pains me, I know I have to say something a lot less smart-assed. But I also can't bring myself to just say 'yes'. That would be embarrassing as hell. Besides, it wouldn't be entirely true.

"No. They're for me," I reply simply, my voice strained with the building pressure in my body, the lingering soreness in my nipple, and large waves of embarrassment-driven heat emanating from my face.

He slightly cocks his head to the side, clearly finding my answer comical for some reason. His icy eyes bore into mine, silently demanding that I elaborate.

I don't disappoint. "You know for a fact I'm clean," I begin, "but I can't say the same for you. So, I figured I'd get condoms. I guess technically, yes, they're for you, but I got them for my benefit and protection. Not yours."

As soon as the words leave my lips, his own lips fall into a deep frown, lines of annoyance instantly banishing any and all traces of amusement on his gorgeous face.

His gaze becomes even more intense, his voice laced with that dangerous edge. "Are you accusing me of something?"

"I'm not making any accusations," I say, trying my best to keep calm in spite of the fact that his eyes feel like they're constantly lighting my body—and my pussy—on fire. "I'm simply saying that I don't know if you're clean."

"I am," he retorts without hesitation.

"I don't have any way of knowing that," I shoot back. "Not for a fact. And you'll forgive me if I simply don't take your word for it. I'm sure you of all people would understand that...you know...being a doctor and all," I add snarkily. "I mean, honestly. How can I trust that you're clean when I was the only one who got tested?"

"I get tested all the time," he counters, the words matter-of-fact but his tone dripping with annoyance.

"I don't know that for a fact, either," I say, irritation quickly seeping into my own voice. "And in case you weren't aware, being a doctor doesn't automatically grant you immunity against STDs. If you're going to make testing a contractual requirement, then you're not exactly exempt from disclosing your sexual health info to your sexual partners. In this case, that would be me. It's not a one-way street. Plus, I'm sure you'd agree, it's the responsible thing to do," I add with a forced, sarcastic smile, baring my teeth as my left eye twitches uncontrollably with anger.

If I weren't so mad, I'd want to laugh at the absurdity of the statement.

Responsible?

Exactly what about this entire fucking situation is even remotely responsible?

Good grief.

He just looks at me for a moment, his expression softening; his eyes no longer narrowed in scrutiny, his lips no longer taut with irritation. His gaze shifts from invasive and scrutinizing to merely observant and analyzing. It's as if he's considering something. I try to decipher what it is he's thinking about, what he's planning in that unscrupulous mind of his by searching the endless depths of those deadly, consuming eyes, but his mystery stare is quite brief and only lasts for a few seconds, and he casually turns his attention away from me without a word.

He places my clothes and other belongings back inside the bag, grabbing the condoms last.

"Like I said before, you won't be needing any clothes while you're here so you packed for nothing," he says. "You won't be needing the condoms, either," he adds, moving to put them back in the bag as well, but he stops just before the box is out of my sight. He turns to face me again, a renewed, mischievous look creeping up into his stunning features, terrifying me to no end. "Then again...I probably could find quite a few...alternative uses for these," he says with a playful, undeniably wicked grin. "After all, it would be a shame to see your hard earned money go to waste."

I watch as his fingers work at the box, pulling apart the opening, swallowing down hard as my heart does several mini explosions in my chest.

The sound of tearing cardboard travels sharply through the relatively quiet room, revealing foiled, square packets of glorious latex.

He takes one out, his grin spreading into a full-blown, sinister smile that makes me go utterly pale. He arches his brow playfully, holding the condom up to my line of vision.

"Let's play a game, shall we?"

***

💕Author's Note: Hey again, gorgeous! We'll post one chapter every Friday, but there are currently over 140 chapters, so this may take a while. If you just can't wait, you can read ahead by becoming a patron at www.EmendedHearts.com/join

XOXO 😘

Eme and the hearts @EmendedHearts 💕