Never His Girl (Kings of Cypress Prep #2) - Rachel Jonas Page 0,56
storms than others.
“You know better than to let someone into the house this late, Scarlett!” Southside shrieks from down the hall. “What are you thinking? It’s—”
Those words cut off the moment I turn, laying eyes on the one who both infuriates me and jumpstarts my fucking heart. Taking note of that deer-caught-in-headlights look now set on her face, I’m aware of the moment her fight or flight kicks in, telling her to run like hell.
Her feet thunder across the carpet at lightspeed, out of the living room and back down the hall. I’m faster, though, which is why she’s surprised as hell when I manage to catch her around her towel-clad waist with one arm, lifting her off the ground. A high-pitched yelp leaves her mouth when I toss her over my shoulder caveman-style, grabbing a handful of bare ass in the process.
Can’t say I mind that part.
She’s not your typical damsel in distress by any means. She doesn’t scream for help. Instead she’s cussing like a raging sailor and clawing at my fucking back like a rabid cat, not pounding on it like most girls would do. I spot her room—the one with twinkling lights strung from the ceiling—and charge in at full-steam, tossing her down on the bed roughly before rushing back to lock the door behind me.
The towel that once covered her came undone and fell to the floor while she fought me. Now, I can’t take my eyes off her as she stands to grab it.
“You… are an ass!” she shouts, resecuring the blue terrycloth fabric across her chest.
There’s heavy pounding at the door. “I’m calling the cops?!?!” Scarlett announces from the other side.
“Don’t!” Southside and I yell in unison, causing her sister to fall silent across the threshold.
Waiting to see what Southside’s next move will be, I’m getting the death-stare of a lifetime. Girl has me praying harder than I’m panting, with hopes that she’s not about to freak out again.
“Just… go to your room, Scar,” Southside eventually concedes, breathing like she just ran a quick lap around the track.
She’s covered now and her damp hair rests on both shoulders. Won’t lie; knowing she’s practically naked right now has me distracted. If I’m being honest, I don’t think she’s ever looked sexier, which is why I’ve nearly forgotten why I’m here. It isn’t until I spot that damn pink softball bat that my memory gets triggered.
“Kind of late to be getting in the shower, isn’t it? Must’ve worked up quite a sweat fucking up my car,” I snap.
She’s got both fists balled at her sides, clearly squaring up for a fight. “No clue what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, I bet.”
I take my eyes off her for one second to pick up the bat, and when I stand straight again, she swings a fist at me.
Yeah, she misses, but I’m still shocked she just tried to punch me.
“The fuck is wrong with you?”
“You!” she shouts. “You’re what the fuck is wrong with me!”
She tightens the towel around her chest again and I see her hands are still balled into fists. This time, when she swings, I’m ready for her and manage to get her restrained, holding her tight against me, which she hates.
I’ve never seen her like this—wild, enraged, raw with emotion.
“Let go of me, West. I swear,” she grunts, struggling to break free.
Her eyes burn red as she fights unshed tears. Her face is flushed, too, and it’s seeing her emotions exposed like this that has me thinking less about her reaction, and more about what caused it.
Seeing me with Parker. Misreading that entire encounter.
“I know what you think I did,” I say to her, but I swear the words go in one ear and out the other.
All because she’s had enough. Enough of being handled with kid-gloves. Enough of being given part of the truth instead of all of it. Enough of not being able to trust.
“I didn’t fuck Parker.” This time, I say the words point blank, right against her ear so there’s no mistaking what I mean.
A small measure of fight drains from her, but she still wants to break free. I won’t allow it, though. Not until I’m certain she understands.
“I wouldn’t do that, because I don’t even want her.”
Southside’s found her second wind and I have to hold her tighter, seeing those tears fall freely now.
“Let… go of me, West,” she seethes, threatening me with a wicked glare I can’t escape from this close.