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I bring her hand to my mouth, dropping the lightest kiss on her knuckles. Like we’re having an intimate moment in one of the most-talked-about restaurants in the area. If people actually fall for this shit, they’re naive as hell. “I like you.”
“Tate...”
“Scarlett...” I grin at her, like we’re playing a game, which I suppose we are.
She gently pulls her hand from mine, and I let her go, never taking my eyes from her. “Why did you kiss me in the pool earlier?”
Her question knocks me off balance, my smile fading quickly. “You didn’t like it?”
“I never said that.” She doesn’t tear her gaze from mine, though her cheeks are pinker than before.
“Did I overstep my boundaries?”
“You didn’t answer my question.” She rests her elbow on the table, propping her chin on her curled fist. “What was that in the pool earlier?”
“I think you know what it was.”
“Why did it happen, though? There wasn’t anyone around. No audience. We didn’t have to put on a performance like we’re doing now.” Her eyes sparkle in the dim light, and I get the distinct sense that she’s fucking with me. Or just flat-out trying to get me to admit to something. “So why?”
“You want the truth?”
“Definitely.” She nods.
I lean in close, mimicking her posture, my fist curled beneath my chin just like hers. “Because you looked hot as fuck in that pink bikini and I wanted to get my hands on you. That’s why.”
Her expression doesn’t so much as waver, which I give her props for. I was trying to throw her off like she just did to me, but I don’t think I was successful. “That’s what I thought.”
“Did you mind?”
Scarlett slowly shakes her head, seemingly trying to hide the smile that wants to curl her lips.
“Want me to do it again? Because I can.” I sit up straight, rubbing my chin. “I don’t need the bikini excuse either.”
“What do you mean?”
“You look hot in whatever you’re wearing, and you know it.” I hold up my hand when she starts speaking. “And don’t give me that ‘I need to lose weight’ excuse either. I’m not falling for it. You don’t need to lose weight. You’re gorgeous. You can have whatever you want, whoever you want, whenever you want it, yet you chose to chase after some asshole who didn’t have enough sense to figure out that the hot rich girl wanted him. Which tells me that all things sexual might actually... scare you.”
She sits up straighter as well, her expression turning pissy in an instant. “Is that how you think of me? As the hot rich girl? I’m more than that, you know. Despite what everyone says.”
“Oh, I definitely know. And no, that’s not how I think of you, but you have to admit, that’s what you are. At least, that’s how you present yourself to the public eye.”
Her eyes blaze with anger. “That’s not true and you know it. I try my hardest to be relatable in my videos. And what do you know about my relationship with Ian, hmm? Not a thing. You don’t know him. You don’t really know me either.”
I watch her, entranced. She’s beautiful when she’s angry. “Tell me you’re not still hung up on him.”
She hesitates. I catch it, though she probably thinks I don’t notice. “I’m over him.”
Frustration builds. I hate that Ian still has some sort of hold on her. He doesn’t deserve her. He never did.
Hell, I don’t deserve her either.
But I know one thing.
I want to make her forget that asshole was even a part of her life.
“You completely avoided the crux of my statement, you know,” I tell her, digging in a little deeper.
“What exactly are you referring to?” she asks warily.
