“What does Jonathan think about that?” Ethan’s question brings me back from my fantasies about his daughter’s nose.

“What Jonathan thinks doesn’t matter.” I don’t miss a beat.

“Does he know that?”

“He knows everything.”

A slight smile crosses Ethan’s face before it disappears. “You’re more like him than you know and for that reason alone, I don’t trust you with my daughter.”

I’m about to tell him that his opinion doesn’t matter, but he cuts me off. “Besides, our families are clashing right now, and everyone has taken a side.”

“I couldn’t care less about families clashing. I’ve already taken a side and it’s Elsa’s.”

Her electric blue eyes bore into mine, her cheeks turning a bright shade of red. Her plump lips fall open. Those soft, soft lips. I’m on the edge of my seat, contemplating walking there and kissing the living fuck out of her, devour those lips, rip them in my mouth against my tongue.

I’m so hard, I can feel the pulsing of my dick.

Ethan clears his throat, cutting off my cock’s fantasies. “Jonathan will do everything to stop you.”

I shift sideways to relieve pressure on my hard-on. Not that it works. See, my cock is a fucking traitor. He doesn’t listen to me when Elsa is around. Not to mention he’s been deprived of her warmth for a long time, so now it’s his time to shine and be a dick — literally.

Thankfully, Ethan’s table prevents him from seeing my junk. Otherwise, he would’ve thrown me out of here about yesterday.

Elsa, however, sees it in all erotic details. Those blues widen even more.

‘It’s your fault,’ I tell her with my gaze. ‘If I fucked you earlier, none of this would be happening.’

Who am I kidding?

Beside being a traitor, my dick is an attention whore. Whenever Elsa’s in sight, he points at her as if saying, ‘Notice me. Suck me. Let me fuck you.’

Yeah, he kind of has a limited vocabulary.

Now, where were we? Right. Ethan and Jonathan. Tale as old as time and as boring, too.

“Let me worry about Jonathan.” I pause. “Maybe if you didn’t kidnap me ten years ago, none of this would have happened.”

“Aiden…” Elsa starts to scold me then decides against it and shakes her head.

Ethan interlaces his fingers. “Maybe if Jonathan didn’t burn dozens of people, none of this wouldn’t have happened either.”

I thought he would fall for the guilt, but he’s not like Elsa. He’s the tenacious type who can bury the past because, for him, the future is more important.

His phone rings, and he checks it. Standing up, he motions at the device. “I have to take this.”

As soon as the door closes behind him, Elsa jumps up and starts pacing. “I should’ve thought of this. I shouldn’t have let you give me a ride. What if he’s mad at me? What if he won’t forgive me?”

My head tilts to the side, watching her flushed cheeks and how her uniform’s skirt rides up her pale thighs every time she moves.

All my attempts to keep my cock down fail.

I’m rock fucking hard imagining that skirt off as I plunge in and out of her warmth for weeks.

No. Not weeks.

Months.

I contemplate bending her over the desk and fucking her raw from behind.

It’d be worth it even if her father walks in on us and murders me. After all, don’t they say to find something you love and let it kill you?

“Aiden.”

“Hmm, sweetheart?”

Her cheeks are bright red as she hisses, “You’re hard!”

I’m sure she can see the lust in my eyes. Am I apologetic about it? Do I care? No and no.

I smirk. “And that’s a problem because?”

“You’re not supposed to be thinking about that in such a situation.”

“That?”

“You know.” She throws her hands in the air for good measure.

“You mean fucking you?”

She slaps a hand over my mouth and watches her surroundings like she’s a spy. “We’re in Dad’s office.”

I kiss her palm.

She removes it with a jerk and turns crimson, if possible.

I love creeping under her skin. I love being the only one who gets to break the ice and slip inside her castle. She might close the door, she might build forts, but I’ll always conquer.

“You’re incorrigible,” she scolds, still fighting off her blush.

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

She flops into the chair and fiddles with the knight chess piece. Only three moves have been made and the black side is at a disadvantage.

An idea springs to mind to calm her agitation.

If it were up to me, I would fuck her, but I doubt that’s the best way to occupy her head in such a situation.

So I move on to the next best thing.

Since the white pieces are in front of me, I push a pawn forward, blocking the knight she’s clutching between her fingers.

Elsa raises her head in questioning.

I lean my elbow on the armrest. “Didn’t you say you play? Show me what you got, sweetheart.”

A spark of challenge ignites in her blue eyes. My dick strains against the confines of my trousers.

That look. That spark. That stubbornness. They’re the reason why Elsa is one of a kind.

She moves her knight forward, leaving an opening for my pawn. I raise an eyebrow.

Bold.

I expected her to hold the fort and count her options. She surprised me by going straight to the attack.

Straightening in my seat, I do a quick overview of the board. I consider her options before I think of mine. Elsa isn’t the type to hold back, and that’ll be the reason for her loss.

While I move a few pawns, Elsa uses her entire battalion.

She’s an all-in type of player.

I like that. A lot.

My dick agrees, by the way.

I bring out my queen, and she smirks with sadism. Elsa just gave me a sadistic smirk. “Finally, dickhead.”

Her entire body language is sharp and concentrated. Fuck. She’s been slowly but surely transforming into a fighter. The challenge shines from her eyes in waves.

Why haven’t I played chess with her before?

This is nearly as erotic as fucking her. The power in her body, the boldness in her moves, and the melting of her defiance. Her mind clashing with mine is more euphoric than anything I’ve experienced before.

“You’re keeping your queen hidden, too, sweetheart. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

She grins, all mischievous and fucking beautiful. “If you’re far from the enemy, make him believe you’re near.”

Sun Tzu. She’s quoting her favourite book, The Art of War, and yes, I re-read it after she mentioned it’s her favourite book, just so I could imagine reading it from her perspective.

Am I too far gone for this girl?

Yes, probably.

“You’re such a nerd,” I play with her.

“This nerd will bring you down, King.” She rolls up the sleeves of her jacket, eyes sparkling and glinting like Christmas lights — and I don’t even like Christmas.

The door opens, pulling us away from the vicious battle.