I try to sidestep him, but he blocks my way.
“I’m not your girlfriend.” I back away as the closet island brushes against my hip. “Besides, what would be the point of us dating when we know you’re going to be arranged to be married to someone else?” My words hurt my own feelings, but I’m right, and he knows it. “Stop telling people we’re dating. You’re doing it to cockblock me.”
He blinks rapidly, clenches his jaw, steps forward, and shoves his hands into his pockets.
“You’re mine, Lilac Lauren.” Then he quickly changes the subject. “I love your hair like this. It’s so pretty.”
Why would my words anger him?
“Thank you,” I murmur.
I try to sidestep him again, but he stands in my way yet again. He removes one hand from his pocket, intertwines his warm fingers with mine, and leads me back into his bedroom.
He looks at the empty plate on his nightstand and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Did you enjoy the food? Was it cooked right?”
“Yes, it was delicious. I haven’t eaten all day, so thank you.”
He studies my face.
“You look sad. Why haven’t you eaten, princess?”
I can’t believe he can detect my emotions so easily. Usually, I’m good at making a poker face.
“What are you stressing about?”
I don’t want to open up about what happened four years ago. I’m ashamed, which is why no one knows my past. I figured I needed a fresh start.
“Nothing important. Just stressed about my classes,” I answer.
More lies. If I were Pinocchio, my nose would be as long as the Empire State Building is tall.
“Already? We just started.”
I nod.
“What were you looking for, princess?” he repeats.
I clear my throat. There’s no point in lying anymore—he sees right through me. “Weed. Do you have any?”
“You don’t have to steal from me. I would’ve given you some if you’d just asked.”
He strolls back into the walk-in closet before returning with a pre-roll. The flames dance from the lighter as he sparks the blunt, then hands it to me.
I place my mouth over the end. Inhale. A cloud of smoke surrounds me. He snatches the blunt from my mouth, puffs on it, then sets it on the ashtray.
He grips my chin. His soft, pillow-like lips press against mine. My heart pounds. My pulse accelerates. I move away from him, staring into his jade eyes.
I need to get the hell out of his room.
He places his hands around my waist as he grips my jaw, slowly stroking the side of it. He crushes his mouth against mine again, claiming my lips as if he’s hungry.
Mint burns my tongue from his lips. I hate that I love his mouth on mine.
My heart hammers. My core tingles.
I shouldn’t have come here in the first place. This is too intimate for my liking. I need to get a grip on this situation.
