His Regret by Bella J.
Chapter Eight
They stoppedin front of the elevator and Scarlet turned to Hunter. “I’d like to take the stairs, please.”
Hunter looked confused. “You what?”
“The stairs. I want to take the stairs.”
“Why?”
There was no way she could tell him that she had this extreme bone numbing fear of enclosed areas. That whenever she was stuck in a tiny confined space, her heart would pound like a jackhammer behind her ribs and her lungs would feel seconds away from collapsing. She had already shown too much vulnerability to this man she hardly knew. So she lied.
“I want to take the stairs, and I want to walk first so that my fine-looking ass can be right there in front of you.”
Okay, maybe it wasn’t that big of a lie.
His eyes narrowed. “You’re not going to let this fine-looking ass thing go, are you?”
“Nope.”
“Figured.” He pulled his hand through his hair and Scarlet watched as it fell back to frame his face again. “Fine. The stairs it is. But be warned, I’m on the top floor.”
Scarlet clapped her hands together and faked a little thrill of excitement one would come to expect from a diva Barbie doll. “Oh yay, a lot of stairs means a lot of time for you to ogle my ass.”
Unimpressed, Hunter grabbed her elbow and led her to the stairs. When he opened the door, he stood to the side. “Please go first so that I can—how did you put it?—ogle your ass so that we can please, in God’s name, just move past it.”
Scarlet slowly walked by him and paused for just a second, placing her hand on his chest, looking up at him with batting eyelashes. “I’ll be sure to put some extra sashaying in my walk. You know, to make it worth your while.” She winked and then walked on, starting up the stairs.
“You know you need help, right?” Hunter started. “Professional kind of help.” He closed the door and made his way up the stairs behind her.
True to her word, Scarlet swayed her hips as they continued up the stairs. Hunter didn’t say anything, but she could feel his eyes on her ass the entire way.
“So, Ace, is this the type of thing you do every weekend?”
“What thing?”
“You know, rescuing princesses from dragons, evil witches, and little men with baby obsessions whose names sound disturbingly a lot like the word foreskin?”
She heard him snicker softly behind her. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I do every weekend. Ride in on my noble white steed and rescue little princesses from freaky villains.”
Scarlet glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “See, I knew it. I got you all figured out.”
“Seems like it. But the only problem with this little rescue mission is that according to you, you didn’t need saving.”
She held up a finger. “This is true.”
“And you definitely ain’t no fucking princess.”
Abruptly she stopped and turned around. Hunter almost knocked right into her before taking two steps back. She placed her hands on her hips. “Are you saying that I don’t have the potential to be some or other fairy tale princess?”
Hunter took a step up, getting closer to her. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Crossing her arms, she slanted her head to the side. “Explain.”
“Well, for starters, fairy tale princesses don’t have filthy mouths like yours.”
“I like my filthy mouth.”
“And then there’s the whole thing where the princess is eternally grateful for being rescued by the prince that she gives him a token of her gratitude.” He held up his empty hands. “I don’t see no token.”
Scarlet narrowed her eyes, then smiled as she started to undo her corset top.
Hunter balked. “What are you doing?”
She unwrapped the top from around her body and shoved it against his chest. “Giving you my token of gratitude.”
Hunter, stunned into silence, stared at her standing in front of him in her black strapless bra. For a moment she could see that he actually had difficulty thinking as he gawked at her breasts. And then his eyes fell to the fresh black bruise on her side, the remnants of the asshole who used her midsection as a damn kicking target.
With a slight shake of his head he forced his gaze up to her face. “You couldn’t just have given me a white handkerchief like all the other damn fairy tale princesses, could you?”
“I’m special.” She shot him a half grin.
“Oh yes. So I’ve noticed.”
The way he said that was giving Scarlet the impression he was thinking more in the line of she’s a trip-to-the-mental-hospital kind of special.
Scarlet turned back around and headed up the stairs again. “Be sure not to drop my top, Ace. It’s my favorite.”
“Oh, you mean like this?”
She turned to the side and watched as Hunter held her top over the ledge.
“You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t dare.” She glared at him, and Hunter winked just before he dropped her top all the way down seven flights of stairs.
“Oh, you fucking asshole.”
Hunter suddenly had a huge-ass smug grin on his face. “Go fetch, princess.”
Good God this man was the biggest, most arrogant son of a bitch she had ever met. Dropping her top down the stairs and then ordering her to go fetch like a fucking dog. I don’t think so.
He would soon learn that she was not just the princess, but the fucking queen when it came to playing the game of let’s see who can drive who insane first.
She squared her shoulders and put on her game face, trying hard not to think of her favorite top laying on the ground just to be picked up by some random guy or woman who would never appreciate it as much as she did. “Fairy tale princesses don’t play go fetch.”
Hunter lifted a brow. “But I thought we’ve already established that you are not a fairy tale princess.”
“You made a weak case.”
He took another step up and was suddenly very, very close to her. There was no way she could stop from staring down into his eyes while he stared up into hers, seconds passing with not a word said between them. They were so close, she could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips, the subtle scent of mint tempting her senses.
With him standing so close, she noticed his hard, chiseled features. There was a subtle tick in his strong jaw, his nose slightly askew like it had been broken before—which she only noticed since they were practically standing on top of each other. And those damn full lips, they were disgustingly inviting. For the first time since meeting his annoying ass, Scarlet felt the crackle of anticipation starting deep within the pit of her stomach. It was faint, but it was there, and it certainly wasn’t welcome
Hunter moved up another step, his ocean green gaze pinning her on the spot. “If you were a fairy tale character, you would definitely not be a princess.”
Surrounded by his wild spice, sandalwood, and minty scent, she involuntarily leaned down. “Then who would I be, Ace?”
“Oh, that’s easy.” His gaze moved from her eyes to her lips, down to her breasts covered by nothing more than the thin fabric of her strapless bra, before he looked her in the eye again.
“You’d be Little Red Riding Hood, trying to get away from the big bad wolf.”
Shattered.
That was what happened to the atmosphere around them the minute those words left his mouth. Shattered, incinerated, and burned to fucking cinder.
“You’re an asshole.” She spun around and didn’t even try to make a show of her ass while she literally rushed up the damn stairs.
There were a lot of fairy tale characters she wouldn’t mind being referred to as. Maleficent, the Evil Queen, even the Wicked Witch of the West. Well, The Wizard of Oz wasn’t actually a fairy tale, but that was beside the point. She would rather be called every villain in every fairy tale ever written rather than hear someone refer to her as Little Red Riding Hood—or Little Red.
They didn’t speak until Hunter finally came to a stop in front of what Scarlet assumed was his apartment door.
He turned toward her. “I have two rules in my apartment. One, you don’t touch anything. Two, you don’t touch anything.”
“I’m not a child.”
Hunter swiped the keycard. “That is yet to be determined.”
“Fu—”
“Fuck me—I know. You can stop saying that now.”
Hunter walked in, and Scarlet followed reluctantly, arms crossed in front of her chest, rolling her eyes. But the minute she stepped into his apartment and took in her surroundings, she whistled in appreciation.
He turned to her. “What?”
“Oh, nothing.” She shrugged. “Just didn’t expect your apartment to be this…clean.”
“Clean?” He pulled his hand down his face. “You know what, I’m not even going to ask. I need a drink.” He stomped off toward the kitchen, making a beeline to the fridge.
“Oh, yes, please.”
“I wasn’t offering.”
“But I’m taking anyway.”
Hunter closed the fridge and tossed her a beer.
She caught the cold one and stared at it like she was holding a reptile. “Beer? Seriously?”
Hunter cracked open his can and leaned back against the fridge. “What, you too much of a princess to drink beer?”
“Fu—”
“Fuck me. I know.” He took a large gulp.
“Stop doing that. You’re taking all the fun out of it.”
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You mean I’m taking all the fun out of you telling me every five seconds that you’d like to fuck me?”
“That’s not what I mean when I say fu—”
“Fuck you?” He smirked.
Scarlet took the beer and flung it, aiming at his head. Hunter stepped to the side and watched as it smashed against his fridge.
“Hey!” he called out. “Don’t waste my fucking beer.”
Deciding that ignoring him was her best option, she walked into the kitchen and started rummaging through his cabinets.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for a real drink.” She opened another cabinet. “Bingo.” She held up the bottle of Jack she’d found like it was the Wimbledon tennis cup. “Now this is a real drink.”
While taking a seat at the counter, she opened the bottle and took a huge swig.
“I do have glasses, you know.”
“I know. You have beer too, which, in all honesty, is kind of tainting my opinion of you at this point.”
Hunter lifted a brow. “You have an opinion of me?”
“Yup.” She took another big gulp of whiskey. “And I’m sorry to say that it ain’t very high.”
“Says the one sitting at my kitchen counter in her bra.”
Scarlet looked down at her chest, and back up at him. “And it seems like I’m not planning on covering up real soon either.”
Hunter walked to the living room, picked up her duffel bag, and placed it on the counter in front of her with a loud thud. “I’m pretty sure you’ll find something to cover up with in there.”
“Now why would I want to cover up?” She was such a tease—and she fucking loved it. They’d only known each other a few hours and it already seemed like they could easily kill each other. But Hunter was still a man, and Scarlet knew men. They were easy, they were cheap, and they had no fucking self-control—especially when it came to well-endowed women like her. Breasts had always been, and always would be a man’s Achilles’ heel.
He leaned over the counter, his face yet again inches from hers. “Because you do not want to know what happens when a woman plays games with me.”
She also leaned closer, not willing to back down even an inch. “Who says I’m playing games?”
“Then what the hell are you doing?”
She shrugged. “Who says I’m trying to do anything?”
Hunter licked his lips and it totally distracted her. The way he slowly dragged his tongue across his lower lip, the way his mouth glistened with temptation threw her off her game for more than a few seconds. As if that wasn’t enough, he had to go bite his teeth into his lower lip as well, like a predator that was staring into the eyes of the one thing that could satisfy his hunger.
He pulled back. “Get dressed, Scarlet.”
After reaching into a cabinet, he placed a glass in front of her. “Now pour yourself a drink and stop infesting my whiskey with whatever germs you have carrying around in that dirty little mouth of yours. God knows where it’s been.”
She leaned back in the chair. “I’d say fuck you, but I don’t want you to get the wrong impression again.”
He smirked. “And what impression is that exactly?”
She grabbed the whiskey and poured herself a drink. “That I’d like to fuck you, when the truth is I don’t want to get infested with whatever STD you’re carrying around on that dick of yours. God knows where it’s been.”
Their eyes remained locked on each other as Hunter started to slowly move around the kitchen counter toward her. For some unexplainable reason her heart started to beat faster with every step he took. This man had a swagger, the confidence that could melt the panties off any woman—lucky for her she wasn’t just any woman. But there was something about Hunter, about the way he looked at her, how he talked, how he moved. He seemed so calm, but there was a wild, untamed look in his eyes and somehow it managed to suck her in. With every step he took, moving his body closer to hers, he exuded a kind of feral power that seemed so much stronger than her iron will. Nothing about this man was simple and pure. Raw sexuality seemed to bleed out of him all the damn time. Even though Scarlet had specific needs and a certain way she liked those needs met, she couldn’t stop the images of his hard body pressed up against hers flashing through her mind. Hunter might be a pain in her ass, but he was a very attractive pain in her ass.
He stopped next to her and, unable to back down, she turned in her seat, letting them come face to face, allowing him to move in between her legs. When she felt his body against her inner thighs, she had to fight the urge to move her hips in search of him.
Without warning, he reached up and grabbed a fist full of her hair, pulling her head back with a violent tug.
She gasped as pain stung her scalp, but the pain spread down her spine, turning into a strong electric current as it shot straight down to her core, causing her to suck in a breath. That was new.
Leaning closer, he brushed his cheek against hers, and she closed her eyes, loving the rough feel of his five o’clock shadow against her skin—not to mention his wild spice and sandalwood scent that suddenly smelled so damn good.
She felt him flexing subtly against her and she couldn’t stop the soft moan that rolled over her lips.
“You might not know where my cock’s been,” he whispered against her ear, his voice sending a wave of heat down her spine, “but I know where you want it to be.” Abruptly, he let go of her hair and stepped back. Scarlet almost fell off the damn chair, not realizing she was leaning into him.
When she looked at his face, she saw his cocky, arrogant grin, which told her that he just got the reaction he wanted out of her—the reaction he expected. Damn, the fucker played her like a goddamn fiddle. Son of a bitch.
She was so lost in the power of that moment she couldn’t even think straight, trying to come up with something to say. He smiled and lifted his eyebrows at her. “Now get control over that body of yours and shake that horny look off your face. We have lots to talk about.”
Fucking bastard.
