Scarlette #2
Grandma Jackie’s words yank me out of my thoughts, and when I turn my gaze to Lykan—
Uh...oh.
He’s glaring at me like I’ve just confessed to treason, and he’s now deciding what’s the best way to punish me.
“Now...” Grandma Jackie raises a brow. “What’s this I hear about an engagement between the two of you?”
Thirty minutes later, and I’m still in complete shock at how my grandmother is acting like my sudden engagement and whirlwind romance is as normal as someone coming in to order one of her famous pancakes for breakfast, with the way she and Lykan are talking oh-so-comfortably about how the two of us supposedly fell in love.
“She caught my attention from the first day.”
“Oh, did she now?”
Grandma Jackie looks at me with interest, and I can’t help feeling rather defensive. “What?”
“I know how old-fashioned you are,” she teases.
“Grandma!” And...and so what if I’m old-fashioned?
“As for you, hmm... ” Grandma Jackie’s gaze turns thoughtful as she studies the sheikh. “I can’t see you as the type to be gentle and subtle in approaching my baby girl. I would liken you more with how a wolf—”
A strangled sound escapes me just as Lykan’s gaze gleams in amusement, and my grandmother’s expression turns curious. “What is it?”
“That’s exactly what she called me, Jackie—”
“My granddaughter called you a wolf?”
“That’s not— I didn’t exactly—”
But Grandma Jackie’s already shaking her head with a laugh. “Oh, dear. I always warned you, didn’t I? That smart mouth of yours would either get you fired or find you a husband—”
“Grandma!”
My face is on fire, but this only has the older woman winking at me like it’s always been my plan to nab a sheikh for a husband.
“Looks like it was the latter.”
And so it continues, with the two of them actually ganging up to rib me mercilessly about my old-fashioned ways, and it’s only when Grandma Jackie has to excuse herself to head back to the kitchen that Lykan informs us with what seems like genuine reluctance about having to leave as well.
“Come drop by anytime,” Grandma Jackie says after giving him a hug.
“I will.”
My grandmother insists that I walk him out, and it’s only when we’re outside, with the town square bustling with its usual Saturday morning activity, that I remember one important thing.
He’s still the enemy, Scar.
Heads turn as we walk past familiar faces, but Lykan doesn’t seem to notice this. I can sense his gaze focused entirely on me, and my heart hammers against my chest when he clasps my shoulders and turn me to face him.
“If you’re worried about your grandmother—”
It’s as if he’s read my mind, and I...I just don’t know what to feel about this. Why is it so easy for him to know my thoughts?
“You don’t have to be.”
“But you threatened to shut down her business.”
“Which won’t happen at all as long as you keep your end of the bargain.”
He makes it sound so frustratingly easy, but we both know it’s not.
“Why are you even here?” I ask helplessly.
“I wanted to introduce myself to your grandmother.”
Like any “normal” fiancé would do, but we both know he’s not that either.
At all.
“I just don’t understand what you want.”
“I already told you, Ms. Hood. I want you.”
“But you could have anyone—”
My words stutter to a stop when he suddenly steps closer, and I find myself backing up until I feel brick against my shoulders.
We’re in a small alcove between buildings, partially hidden from the street.
“Is it so hard to believe I might genuinely desire you? That I might find your particular combination of innocence and fireirresistible?”
My breath catches in my throat as he braces one arm against the wall beside my head. “I don’t know what game you’re playing,” I say, hating how breathless I sound, “but I’m not a toy.”
“No,” he agrees, his gaze dropping to my lips. “You’re much more interesting than a toy.”
And then he’s kissing me, right there in the street, in front of anyone who happens to walk by, and I just can’t breathe.
His kiss is mercilessly possessive and hot, his mouth crashing onto mine with the kind of command that should terrify me.
Maybe it does, and that’s why I can’t even move or think, and all I can do is feel how strong his chest is against mine.
And when he pulls me even closer, and my breasts start straining and swelling, I feel the contact all the way down to where I’m burning.
There’s this wild, melting heat pooling between my thighs, and I hate that I want more of it. And of him.
His tongue finds mine, and my knees give out, but he’s already holding me up, one arm around my waist and the other braced above my head like a cage.
I feel like I should start pushing him away, but I just can’t. Not when he’s kissing me like he hungers for me endlessly. Not when he’s kissing me like he owns me...and like I own him, too.
My fingers dig into his shirt, but what I really want is his hands. Under my shirt. On my skin. I bite my lip, afraid I’ll say something I can’t take back.
Like...
Please. Touch me. Please .
Get a grip, Scar!
I try so, so desperately to remind myself that this can’t be right. He’s not my fiancé. He’s my blackmailer. I’m not supposed to be his, so why...
Why do his kisses make me feel like melting?
And when he finally lifts his head—
Aaaargh.
I’m out of breath, and hearing myself pant is the most embarrassing sound is just...
“Do you understand now...why I want you?”
Lykan gently brushes my cheek with his knuckles.
“I am the only one who’ll be able to make you feel like this—”
No, no, no.
“And so it is with me.”
Lykan takes a step back, and a confusing sensation of emptiness wells up inside of me as I watch him straighten his cuffs.
“I need you to accompany me tonight. I’ll take care of everything—”
“What if I have plans?”
Lykan’s smile is slow and lethal, but I am absolutely immune to it.
Really.
“Cancel them.”
Oh, the arrogance of this sheikh is not hot.
Really.
“You...you can’t just order me around like one of your employees—”
“Of course not.” His lips curve in a smirk. “I’m ordering you around like my fiancée. So be a good girl, habibti, and make sure you are ready by seven.”