Playing Fire with My Ice-King BOSS: V-Card for One Night, Ring Forever - Chapter 25: Chapter 25

Isabelle's POV
I stood in front of the elevator, checking my reflection in the polished steel doors, adjusting my hair and tilting my head to get a better angle.
Then Jeremiah appeared beside me like a fucking ghost, and my tilted head ended up resting directly against his shoulder.
Jesus Christ!
I jerked away in pure panic, staring at his reflection in the elevator doors while my heart hammered against my ribs.
Jeremiah turned to look down at me with those dark, penetrating eyes that seemed to see straight through my soul.
"Mr. Winslet, what are you doing here..." The words came out automatically, like some kind of office PTSD.
"Jeremiah," I quickly corrected myself, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.
"Thought I'd give you the grand tour." His voice was deceptively calm, but there was something predatory lurking underneath.
I bit my lip, unable to refuse even though every instinct was screaming at me to run. I'd been trying to avoid him, to get some space to process everything that had happened between us.
Just when I thought I could escape his watchful gaze, he'd followed me upstairs like some kind of beautiful, dangerous stalker.
Didn't he have a billion-dollar company to run?
Ding—
The elevator doors opened, and I felt like I was walking into a trap.
Jeremiah stepped in first and pressed the button for the third floor. I pressed myself against the opposite wall, but the enclosed space still felt suffocating, drowning in that intoxicating sandalwood scent that made my knees weak.
I could barely breathe without inhaling him.
"Are you afraid of me?" His deep voice seemed to vibrate through my entire body.
"No, I'm just..." I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. "Still getting used to all this."
That was a massive understatement. I was terrified—not of him hurting me, but of how much I wanted him to touch me again. That night was still a blur of sensations and heat, and having him right here next to me, remembering what we'd done, was making me lose my goddamn mind.
Jeremiah's lips curved in a knowing smile that made heat pool between my thighs.
He had all the time in the world, and he knew it.
The elevator reached the third floor, opening onto an enormous library that looked like something out of a movie. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves stretched endlessly, and further in was a massive mahogany desk covered with expensive drawing supplies.
Beyond that was a sun-drenched balcony that probably had a view worth more than my entire life.
"Holy shit..." I breathed, momentarily forgetting my nerves.
So this was how billionaires lived.
Jeremiah glanced over at me, clearly amused by my reaction. "I heard you're incredibly talented at drawing."
"I'm decent, I guess." I tried to downplay it, but the praise sent warmth through my chest.
I'd spent summers abroad with my mom and Rachel, and Rachel had made me practice brush drawing religiously. I picked things up quickly, which had made her proud.
An awkward tension settled between us as we wandered through the space, our footsteps echoing in the vast room. I could feel his eyes on me constantly, like he was studying my every movement.
"Do you know how?" I asked, desperate to fill the charged silence.
"Not really," Jeremiah admitted, moving closer. "That's why I need a good teacher."
The way he said "teacher" made my stomach flip with dangerous possibilities.
We'd reached a dead end between the towering bookshelves. I turned to head back, but Jeremiah remained planted directly in my path, effectively trapping me.
The space between the shelves was barely five feet wide, and with his broad shoulders blocking the way, I was completely cornered.
His gaze pinned me, dark and intense, like he was peeling me apart layer by layer.
My heart slammed against my ribs, and I grabbed a book off the shelf, pretending to skim it.
The moment I opened it, I realized it was a bound collection of "The Pearl"—the infamous Victorian erotic journal that had scandalized London society in the 1870s.
"Fuck!" I slammed it shut and shoved it back onto the shelf and my cheeks burned instantly.
Jeremiah's low, sexy laughter rumbled through the space, making me even more flustered.
“Find something you like?”
His voice was smooth, teasing, but with a dangerous edge that lit a spark deep in my core.
I shot him a look, trying to play it off. “Oh, shut up.”
"Still want to kiss you," he said, his voice rough with barely contained desire.
What the hell was special about today? Was Mercury in fucking retrograde?
I felt like I was being consumed by fire—my ears burning, my cheeks flaming, my entire body betraying me with want. My hands clenched into fists so tight my nails dug into my palms.
If you want to kiss me so badly, just do it already. Stop torturing me with all this buildup.
Jeremiah was backlit by the window, his expression unreadable but his intentions crystal clear. His perfect silhouette looked like some kind of dark angel come to corrupt me.
I was completely trapped in his shadow, every tiny reaction visible to those predatory eyes.
He stepped closer, closing the distance between us with deliberate slowness.
I instinctively backed up until my spine hit the bookshelf, but he kept coming until his hand braced against the shelf beside my head.
"Just a taste," he murmured, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made my toes curl. "If you feel uncomfortable, we can stop."
The fucking irony—a gentleman being more seductive than any bad boy ever could be.
After what felt like an eternity, I managed to choke out a response.
"Okay..." The word came out barely above a whisper.
I was such a coward—couldn't even say no when every rational part of my brain was screaming warnings.
Should I close my eyes now? Wait for him to make the first move? I was completely out of my depth.
"Relax, beautiful. Just breathe."
His voice was pure velvet, softer and more intimate than I'd ever heard it. This wasn't the cold, intimidating CEO from the office—this was someone entirely different, someone dangerous.
I took shaky breaths as he leaned closer, his scent overwhelming my senses.
When his lips finally touched mine, the world exploded.
The kiss started gentle but quickly turned hungry, desperate. His mouth moved against mine with a confidence that made my knees buckle, and I heard myself whimper against his lips.
This version of him was raw, passionate, completely unrestrained—nothing like the controlled, distant person I thought I knew.
When he finally pulled away, we were both breathing hard. My lips felt swollen, and I realized my arms were wrapped around his neck, my fingers tangled in his dark hair.
"I want you," he said, his voice rough and desperate. "Right here, right now."
He leaned in again, his lips brushing the corner of my mouth, soft and teasing, like he was savoring something rare.
I froze, my eyes fluttering shut, every nerve screaming.
His kiss deepened, hungry and demanding, his tongue slipping past my lips, claiming me with a heat that stole my air.
His hand slid from my wrist to my waist, his touch burning through my shirt.
Then, his fingers moved lower, tracing the curve of my hips before gripping my ass, squeezing with a slow, deliberate pressure that made my knees weak.
I bit back a moan, my hands grabbing his chest, feeling the hard muscle under his shirt, warm and solid.
His fingers tugged at my top, pulling it up until it bunched above my ribs.
With a quick, practiced move, he yanked my bra up, freeing my breasts to the cool air, his thumb grazing a nipple, sending a shock of pleasure straight through me.
“Jeremiah…” I gasped, my voice shaky, caught between pushing him away and pulling him closer.
He chuckled, low and dirty, his lips brushing my ear, his breath hot. “You have no idea how sexy you are, Belly.”
His hand slipped under my shirt, cupping my breast, his fingers teasing, slow and deliberate, setting every nerve on fire.
I felt a rush of heat between my thighs, a slick warmth that made me blush and ache all at once.
The tight space between the shelves was our own little world, a trap I didn’t want to escape.
His lips moved to my neck, teeth grazing my skin, each bite sending a shiver racing through me.
He pulled back, his eyes dark as sin, burning with raw, unfiltered want.
“Belly, tell me you want me too,” he said, his voice rough, strained, like he was barely holding it together. His hand tightened on my waist, fingers digging in, the heat of his touch like a live wire.
Before I could answer, his hand slid to my skirt, pulling it up with a slow, deliberate tug.
His fingers brushed the inside of my thigh, then higher, slipping past my soaked panties to find the heat between my legs.
A slow, teasing stroke made my legs shake, pleasure curling through me like wildfire.
“God, you’re so wet,” he growled against my ear, his voice thick with satisfaction, his fingers moving with agonizing precision.
I whimpered, my body arching into him, torn between shame and need.
He grabbed my hand, guiding it to the front of his pants, pressing my palm against the hard, throbbing length straining against the fabric.
“Feel how bad I want you,” he rasped, his voice low and tight, like he was fighting to keep control, his eyes locked on mine.
My fingers traced the outline, the heat and hardness making my head spin, a mix of shock and desire flooding me.
The raw honesty sent shock waves through my system. I hadn't even recovered from that kiss, and he was already making his next demand clear.
Just as I was about to give in to the madness, his phone rang,
Jeremiah swore under his breath, his forehead pressed against mine, his breathing rough. “Fuck…”
His lips brushed softly against mine.
"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to overwhelm you."
I was panting, my face burning, my mind a mess.
I shoved him back, fumbling to fix my clothes—my shirt half-off, my bra pushed up, my skirt hiked high, leaving me exposed under his hungry gaze.
But we both knew that was exactly what he'd meant to do.