Page 11 of Touch of Hate
Not in reality, at least.
In my imagination? That’s an entirely different story. It’s a miracle my dick isn’t permanently chafed from the attention it gets every time Scarlet comes to mind.
What is it about her? What’s changed? Ever since the night I caught Enzo Grimaldi screwing with her in the library, there’s been no getting her out of my system. Not the child I always considered her, but the woman she’s becoming. A woman I have no business going anywhere near, no matter how right it would feel in the moment to let go of my qualms.
She’s not in the hall, the kitchen, or the powder room. I glance toward the sweeping staircase leading upstairs and consider searching for her up there but hold myself back. God forbid she’s in her bedroom, where I’ve already imagined ravishing her more than once.
Another minute of searching leads me to the terrace overlooking the garden. I find her there, leaning her folded arms against the railing, gazing out at a landscape painted by the first beams of a radiant full moon.
My mouth goes dry, my heart forgetting to beat.
She’s beyond any fantasy. A vision in a blue dress the same shade as her eyes, shining blond locks hanging in thick waves that conceal her profile, adding to her mystery. I’d stand here admiring her all evening if it wasn’t for the reality of our meal waiting for us.
“Hey,” I grunt, careful to keep my distance. “You’ve been missed. Better get back.”
She turns slowly, revealing a soft, knowing smile and a gleam of wickedness in her gaze. “It took you long enough.”
“Pardon?” I choke out. That’s not how this is supposed to go. She was not supposed to be waiting for me out here.
“To find me. I’ve been waiting for you,” she whispers.
It’s a struggle to remain blank-faced. “Why?”
Why is she doing this to me?
“I wanted a minute alone with you.” Turning slowly, she smooths her hands down the front of her dress and asks, “What do you think? I bought it with you in mind.”
What do I think? I think I’d love nothing more than to flip that knee-length skirt over her ass and rail her until she’s a sobbing, gushing mess on my cock. The girl hasn’t learned the danger of asking loaded questions.
“Why would you buy a dress with me in mind?”
She rolls her eyes before crossing the terrace, taking one measured step at a time, my dick twitching all the while.
“You’re going to pretend you don’t look at me the way you do?”
Folding my arms, I scoff. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Her hair sparkles in the moonlight as she shakes her head.
“We both know that isn’t true. I caught the way you looked at me the last time we all had dinner together. And in the library. You almost ripped that guy’s head off to protect me.”
“I would’ve done the same thing if it was Luna in that position.”
“Not exactly the same thing.” She comes to a stop mere inches from me, leaving me helpless against the sweet, light scent of her floral perfume. “Come on. Do I have to spell it out?”
“You don’t have to do anything but come back to the dining room.”
“You know I like you,” she whispers, her cheeks blushing at the admission. “And I think you like me, too. Why are we pretending otherwise?”
“I like you as a person,” I reply, my voice strained. “That’s it. To me, you’re a little sister. You’re a kid.”
“I know you don’t mean that.”
“What makes you say that?” I force a smirk when, in reality, apprehension is beginning to trickle through my veins, turning my body cold.
She sees through me. I can’t have that. It’s the most dangerous aspect of a situation already fraught with enough tension to snap my sanity.
She’s beaming with trust and enough hope to break my heart when she speaks. “You think you’re being noble.”