Scarlett looked at me flatly. “I don’t want a cake from some woman who thinks she’s in love with you. She’s probably going to poison it. It’ll be the most interesting thing that's probably happened in this town since you.”
I walk closer to her, and she rounds the couch, walking further away. “Are you jealous, baby girl?”
Scarlett laughs humorlessly. “She can have you. I only need you until my sister is married.”
I step in her way so she can’t escape. She’s pressed against the corner by the windows, the light streaming in from outside making her blue eyes appear clear as glass.
Leaning in, I brush her hair over her shoulder, letting my fingers graze along her pulse point. Her pulse jumps under my hand, pupils dilating as she stares up at me. She smells like sweet jasmine and warm sandalwood and it’s the most intoxicating scent.
“You don’t have to lie to me, hellion,” I whisper. “I know you’re angry, rightfully so, but there’s no need for lies in our relationship.”
If looks could kill, my family would be planning my funeral right now.
“We’renotin a relationship, Connor.”
“Not right now, at this moment.” I lean in even closer, until our noses almost brush.
“Not ever,” she protests. “What’s done is done.”
She arches up, closer to me, her eyes focused on my mouth. Fuck, I want to kiss her. My body craves her like sustenance. The heat radiating from her body, the scent of her perfume, the softness of her skin are an intoxicating mixture.
“Connor,” she breathes.
I press my mouth against hers. Scarlett makes a sound, her hands coming up to my chest. Instead of pushing me away, though, she wraps her fists around my shirt and pulls me in closer. Mouth parting softly, she allows me access to taste her and now I’m the one who’s moaning.
Scarlett is arching up, pressing her body against mine, one hand thrust in my hair. She tastes as sweet as I remember, like a rare delicacy. My mind is playing tricks on me and filtering out the last year and a half, almost as if it doesn’t want to remember the time I spent without her.
“We can’t,” Scarlett murmurs on my lips. “I still don’t forgive you.”
But she’s still kissing me. Still pushing her hand into the back pocket of my jeans and pulling me closer to her, rocking against my erection.
“And yet you’re still fucking insatiable.”
In response to that, she bites my lip, not enough to draw blood, but definitely enough to leave an impression.
Pushing me away, she walks to the other side of the room, her back to me as she takes a deep breath.
“Scarlett--”
“Don’t play with me, Connor,” she says, her voice hard. “This is hard enough as it is.”
“I’m not fucking playing, Scarlett,” I growl.
She turns, her hair flying like a purple curtain, lips bruised from my kiss. “Don’t forget to eat the cupcakes.” Her smile is fake and sugary. I guess we’re still not talking about us, not even after that kiss. My skin suddenly feels too tight, and I can’t wait another second, let alone days, to hold her again. I also know I’m pushing her too far too fast, and that way lies disaster.
“If I die, I won’t be able to help with your sister’s wedding,” I say.
Scarlett laughs. “Oh, don’t worry about that, if you die, I’m going to drag you back from hell. Now that that’s settled, I have to go fight with your lover.”
“If you mean Jane, she’s not my lover.”
The horrified look which crosses her face makes me laugh. “Jane and Shane? Small towns are so weird.” Scarlett chews on her lip. “I think they’re trying to ruin our stay because they think I hate you. We need to prove to them that everything is fine.”
I’m standing by the arched entry of the living room and Scarlett pauses on her way out, tilting her head back to look at me. There’s a turbulence of emotions in her eyes and I know I’m responsible for all of them. As if getting her back isn’t going to be hard enough, the whole town is conspiring against me now.
“We should go to the Christmas Market, if you haven't already. It’s a good place to be seen and that should convince everyone that everything is fine.”
“I don’t know how I’m going to explain you to my family,” she says.
