Grievous (Scarlet Scars #2)(14)

Something flashes in her eyes, her cheeks growing pink, a flush taking over her warm skin.

“Is this foreplay?” she asks. “Because I’m not really in the mood.”

“Liar.” I laugh, running my nose along her cheek. She smells like warm vanilla and maybe even a bit like me. “Are you forgetting what happens to people who lie to me?”

Rolling her eyes, she pushes away, walking back over to finish making the bed. “How do you know I’m lying?”

“You look like you might enjoy a good pounding,” I say. “Besides, fresh sheets... no better time than now to fuck the bed all up.”

She throws the comforter on top of it, doing a half-assed job at the rest, before dropping to the floor on her hands and knees, looking under the bed.

Walking over, I reach down, running a hand over the curve of her ass before slipping further down, rubbing her pussy through her panties. “You assuming the position?”

She laughs. “I’m looking for Buster.”

“Ah, its downstairs in my library.”

She stands up, giving me a weird look as she pushes past me.

“Where are you going?” I ask, catching her arm.

“To get Buster,” she says.

I stare at her as she pulls away, leaving the room.

Un-fucking-believable.

Cock-blocked by a one-eyed teddy bear.

Are you seeing the irony here?

The song changes, Picture Me Rollin’ blaring through the house, but in those three seconds it takes for the music to kick back in, I hear the unmistakable sound of moaning.

Walking over to my brother’s room, I bang my fist against the door, hard enough to rattle it, before snatching ahold of the knob and shoving the fucking thing open.

“Whoa, Pretty Boy!” I tilt my head as the door slams into the wall. “I didn’t know Firecracker was so bendy.”

Shouts, panic, as they scramble, throwing blankets over themselves, Firecracker covering up entirely as she pushes Leo off of her. Truthfully, I saw nothing, but if I’m getting cock-blocked, so is my brother.

Yeah, whatever... no one ever said I was mature.

“Jesus, bro!” he yells. “Do you mind?”

“Keep the fucking noises down,” I tell him. “Some people are busy not fucking and don’t want to hear that shit.”

I walk away as he yells something at me, something that has something to do with me being an asshole, as if I don’t already know that little fact about myself. I make my way downstairs, heading to the library, damn near slamming into Scarlet.

She thrusts the bear at me, shoving it right in my face. “What the hell, Lorenzo?”

I push her hand away. “What?”

“Who did this?”

“Who did what?”

“This... sewing.”

I look at the bear in the dim morning light, at the thick lines of black thread knotted together, before my gaze turns to Scarlet, who clutches the thing so tightly it looks like she might bust the holes right back open.

Tears swim in her eyes.

My skin starts to crawl.

I should’ve known better.

This is why I don’t do shit like this. Why I don’t try to help people. Why I don’t fucking bother. I think, hey, it’s important to her, let’s do something about it, because maybe I’m not always an asshole, maybe I can be a nice guy sometimes, but I should know better than to think anything the nice side of me does could ever be good enough for somebody else.

“So, what, I can’t sew worth a damn,” I say, pushing past her into the library.

She turns in the doorway, staring at me. “You sewed it? You did this?”

“Yeah, so what?”

I sit down in my chair, regarding her as she blinks rapidly, like she suddenly doesn’t comprehend English, staring at me like I’m a stranger, like she doesn’t know who I am.

“Look, be pissed all you want, Scarlet. Go boo-hoo in a fucking corner, if that’s what you want to do, but if you start in on me because I fucked the thing up even more, I’m liable to flip out and give us all a reason to cry, so go do that shit somewhere else.”

“Seriously?” She gapes at me. “Are you fucking with me, Lorenzo?”

Closing my eyes, I run my hands down my face, muttering, “I wish I was...”

The door slams, and I look up, tensing. She’s still standing in the room, still staring at me.

She comes toward me, clutching the bear. “I changed my mind.”

“About what?”

“I’m in the mood now.”

“What?”

She climbs right onto my lap, forcing her way on the chair, tossing the bear on top of my puzzle on the table as she straddles me. No hesitation, the woman rolls her hips, grinding against me, as she runs her fingers through my thick hair.

I need a haircut. Desperately.

It’s falling into my face.

Grasping tight to the locks, tugging to the point of pain, Scarlet yanks my head up so I’ll look at her.

“How are you so fucking dense?” she asks. “You think I’m mad right now? Seriously?”

There are still tears in her eyes. “You look like you might cry.”

“Because it’s the nicest thing anybody has ever done for me, Lorenzo. You’re trying to fix things.”