Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 91064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
If I ever allowed myself to fuck her, I’d make her keep them on.
Discreetly as I can manage with the rush of blood that’s now headed south in my body, I move my gaze up her toned legs and over the hem of her dress. It rides up her thigh when she crosses her legs, revealing the faintest hint of lace at the top of her stockings.
Pure fucking torture- that’s what she is.
I’m convinced the woman really is Satan. I know I can’t be the only man who would voluntarily pack a bag and go to hell, so long as she was on her knees and worshipping me during my descent.
I shift my head slightly, and I know she knows what I’m thinking. Because she’s staring right at me.
Her beauty is as subtle as a grenade.
Scarlett has a heart shaped face with freckles around her nose. Dainty, delicate features and sultry lips she always paints in red. Her eyes are like her personality. A chameleon. Always changing. They can be feline at times, warm like brandy. But they can be a whole lot of dark too, the color evaporating into an endless void. Especially when she has an eye for revenge. Which is often.
Today they are a soft amber, I would swear it. Smoked in black to match her dress. Her dark chocolate hair is pulled up into an elegant bun, hiding the tones of gold I love so much. It doesn’t suit her, but yet it does.
There’s a natural grace that’s been ingrained into Scarlett. She can’t hide it, no matter how long she’s been on the streets. It makes me question her background. I want to know what motivates the cunning little fox. The events that have isolated her from society. The reason she plays dumb when in fact I know she’s always the smartest woman in the room.
Pulling those answers from her is impossible. And I’m not about to go down that road again. I’ve tried with her. I’ve tried to help her. To stop her from being reckless. I’ve invested time and energy into her that I’ve never done with any other woman.
And all she’s ever done is refused it. Thrown it back in my face.
I’m not about to forget that. Even when she’s sitting right next to me, smelling like heaven. Her skin soft and dewy, pure and porcelain. There is a sensuality about her in everything she does. Even the simple act of her leg brushing against mine has my cock sawing at the seam of my jeans. Desperate to break free and plunge inside of her.
She’s feminine. Inviting. And no doubt deadly as hell.
Because Scarlett doesn’t feel anything. She doesn’t show any emotion. She’s colder than a fucking ice cube even though she looks anything but.
And I need to remember that. Even when she’s looking at me the way she is right now. Like she’s missed me.
Fucking Christ.
There’s a shuffle of movement as the entire church stands up, and I’ve missed the last half of the ceremony. Scarlett stands up too, only managing to meet my chest at eye level in her heels. She’s petite and curvy, and everything inside of me wants to yank her out of this church and drag her back to my cave to fuck the ever-loving hell out of her.
Instead, she leans up on her toes and touches my face.
“Hey, old sport” she says, almost shyly. “Miss me?”
I’m not about to drink that Kool-Aid again.
“How goes the battle?” I redirect.
“Why don’t we skip the pleasantries.” She smiles. “I found a coat closet on the way in.”
I indulge and play her game, even though it pisses me right the fuck off.
“In a church, Scarlett?” I ask. “Ye really must be the devil.”
“Never said I wasn’t.” She leans up to whisper in my ear, her hand brushing down my arm and feathering over my fingers. “And maybe I want you to do unholy things to me.”
“I won’t say that I’m not tempted,” I whisper back into her hair, inhaling her as I do. “But not today.”
She falls silent, as she usually does, and I know I shouldn’t, but I drink the fecking Kool-Aid. Again.
“Go on a date with me.”
“Fuck me,” she counters.
The distance between us is only a few inches, but it may as well be miles. I’m hungover, I’m knackered, and I’ve had enough of this game.
“I won’t allow ye to hate me,” I finally say.
She blinks up at me, rattled by my observation. It’s all been fun and games until now. Most people don’t think I have a whole lot of sense, being loafed in the head all the time. I’m always cracking jokes, having the craic, always up for a laugh. But not today. Not now, and not with her.
“It’s what ye want, isn’t it? You want me to fuck ye so you can lump me into the bad pile and say I’m just like the rest of them.”