Page 17 of Scary Hot

“Told you already, kitten. Ain’t never letting you go.” I watch her roll her eyes, and then ask, “How was your day today?”

“Yeah, you said that in like… the throes of passion. Guys don’t mean stuff when they’re balls-deep in some chick—”

“As good as your sweet pussy was, Kayan—” My use of her real name makes her head jerk back. Good, she’s paying attention. “—not even it is good enough to make me lie to you. Nothing is. And I meant every single word I said while we were making love.”

“Making lo— Ugh. You’re annoying.”

She crosses her arms over her scrub top-covered chest and plops down on the couch as far away from me as possible, which is laughable, because it’s barely bigger than a loveseat. But I can tell by the look in her eyes she’s putting on a front. My words hit home. She’s just trying to save face. But why?

I try again to move along the conversation. “How was your day, kitten?

She visibly deflates, rolling in on herself and putting her head in her hands, her elbows resting on her knees. I want to pick her up and pull her onto my lap, rock her until everything is all better in her mind. But I stay where I am, hoping she’ll open up to me.

“Don’t tell Wes, but that guy showed up at the clinic today,” she murmurs, and my brow furrows.

“The guy? The one with the spider tattoo?” I growl, pissed she hadn’t called me as soon as it happened.

She waves her hand at me, shaking her head. “No, no… you freaking bear. Calm your tits. The guy July and I followed, the young one who’s been dropping the injured dogs off at the clinic.”

“That’s barely any better. They’re all connected somehow, and next time, your ass better tell me as soon as possible,” I order, and her narrowed eyes turn to me.

“Excuse you. You can’t just order me about! We didn’t know the other even existed a week ago, and suddenly you think you can tell me ‘my ass better’ do something? You’ve got a lot to learn.” She stands from the couch and stomps to her room, slamming her door.

All I can do is smirk and adjust my rock-hard cock behind my zipper. I fucking love it when her feistiness comes out to play. Almost as much as I like her shy. But she’s the one who has a lot to learn. I’m not backing down. She’s mine. All fucking mine. And in being mine, she’s going to have to start turning to me for help instead of fighting me every step of the way. She’s obviously been on her own for a long time, the epitome of an independent woman. I know it’ll take some reconditioning to get her to actually lean on me, but I’m willing to put in the work. Nothing she does or says will push me away.

A few minutes later, after I’ve called Wes to let him know the girls received a visitor at work today, she storms out of her room, now dressed in skinny jeans that fit her like a second skin and a loose-fitting tee. “You did not just call Wes and tell him, after I specifically told you not to!” she yells, obviously having heard me through the door. She glares at me as she snatches up her purse, and then turns to stomp toward the front door, stopping to dig her key out of it.

“Where we going?” I ask right behind her, making her squeal as she spins around to look up at me.

She puts her hand to my chest and shoves, moving herself backward instead of me, and I fight my grin. “We… are going nowhere. I… am hungry, because I skipped lunch when the dog fighter guy came and gave me anxiety. But now I’m angry, not anxious. Which means I’m hangry. And you do not want to see me hangry,” she threatens, and all I want to do is pet her hair and tell her how fucking adorable she is.

“I’m coming with you,” I say matter-of-factly. “What do you want to eat?” I try to pull her key out of her hand, but she snatches her arm back, hitting her elbow against the door and wincing.

“Mothertrucker, that freaking hurt! Gah! Go away!” She spins to pull open the door, but I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her back against my front, and rub her elbow with my other hand, soothing away the ache. I feel her instantly melt against me.

“I’m going to feed my little kitten. You’re not going anywhere alone, not after someone broke into your house just last night. You’re going to have to get over it. You have people who care about you, and it’s okay to allow them to protect you,” I murmur into the side of her head, and she twitches in my arms, obviously trying to hold strong in her frustrating beliefs. But when she speaks, her voice is much calmer.

K.D. Robichaux Books | Suspense Books |