Sparks Fly

Chapter Three: Hookups and Let Downs

Hello, readers! Here is chapter three! I've decided to update every week on Fridays from now on since I will be going back to work and school (yay!?) and will only be free towards the end of the week.
Thank you for reading this story. I really hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoy creating these characters. I'm already in love (hehe).
Up top, the Ice Queen (AKA Rain Sullivan, but Teagan doesn't know that yet).
Enjoy, and please vote and comment on this if you love it.
-VIVKELLER23
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Teagan

Shame. It was an all new sensation he'd never felt before. Made him feel as filthy and low as the scum he so obviously resembled in her eyes.

It left a bad taste in his mouth.

He'd been living the way he wanted since he'd been old enough to drive himself places at the age of fourteen. Rules had never really applied to him. It wasn't as if he was trying to protect a pristine image; everyone knew he could have any woman he wanted. It was what made it so easy to find new partners every time he wanted someone to get his mind off his crappy life.

Why was it that as soon as he'd gotten a whiff of the Ice Queen, he suddenly felt like he was less than worthy?

And because he didn't like how it made him feel, he pushed off of the brick wall he'd so casually leaned on to face Her Majesty before she could brush past him. His lips curved slightly, his perfected smirk on his lips as he arched an eyebrow at her.

"See something you like, My Lady?" he teased, knowing she'd do one of two things.

She could simply pretend she hadn't heard him, which wouldn't fool him since she'd obviously heard what he'd said to Crue before he hung up. Or she could give him a response before continuing on her merry way.

What type of response that would be, he wasn't sure. He hadn't had time to try to analyze the Ice Queen's mind to see how it worked. But he knew she'd been raised to always show some sort of control even while in the presence of peasants.

She was the ultimate model of class and regal manners. As such, she couldn't- no, wouldn't- just push past him without at least acknowledging his presence no matter how much she might want to forget he even existed. Her father had instilled years of careful training into his only daughter to make her into the statue of civility she was today.

Or at least that was what he had gathered from her ex-best friend, Gia Dyer, during the one night he'd spent with her. According to Gia, the Ice Queen was as lovely as she was useless. She couldn't make any grand decisions on her own. She'd been conditioned to always depend on her sweet papa to tell her what to wear, how to speak, and how to smile just right to make stupid flies disappear from her presence.

Seemed today, she'd decided he was the fly.

The naturally red bow lips that made him think of hot and heavy kisses in the middle of the night curved into a proper smile that never reached those purple eyes of hers. "Good morning," she said. That was it; nothing more, nothing less. There wasn't even a hint of recognition in her level gaze to tell him that she remembered what she'd asked him to do last night.

He couldn't have been the only one affected by finding a hot, willing, and drunk woman underneath the Ice Queen's frigid facade. Surely she recalled the way she'd begged him to take her to his bed, the way her eyes had avidly watched him and cost him a wild night with Crue. Or was the magic of the night and the excess of alcohol lost in the light of a new day to send him back into the shadows as if he had never even existed in her world?