Page 158 of Fuckboy Psychos (Scarlett Force 1)
“But it felt good, didn’t it?” Aspen asks, raising his dark brows as he sweeps his gaze over mine. Clearly, he likes what he sees. It’s written all over his crotch and the way his fancy slacks are tented in the front. “Don’t pretend you don’t like me or that you didn’t come to my party last night on the off-chance that you might see me.”
“I came to that party looking for Ash,” I say, and Aspen goes completely still.
“Did you now?” he queries, lifting his gaze from my tits to my face. I’m used to getting leered at by men—what woman isn’t?—but I’ve never cared. I’ve always ignored or punished that sort of attention. For the first time in my life, I’m grateful that my blouse is fairly conservative and covers most of my upper half. The skirt, while it might be tight, falls below my knees. I’m as covered as I ever am and yet, I feel more naked than I ever have under a pervert’s stare. “Well, he left for Tokyo today; you won’t be seeing him again.”
“So you said last night, but I don’t know if I believe that. I think you’re trying to protect your brother.”
Aspen laughs at that, taking a step closer to me. I refuse to step back, to give even an inch. If he comes any closer, I’ll stab him.
“Protect my brother?” he asks, his voice low and slithering, like a snake wrapping its coils around my throat. “As if I would ever do such a thing.” He’s smiling at the ground now, and his eyes … they’re glossy and distant. That handsome face of his doesn’t seem so handsome now. Actually, he’s a bit terrifying. He looks back to me, and I realize then that I’m never going to escape this man.
I tasted obsession on his lips? I thought it might be fun to sample it?
He’s going to chase me, isn’t he? And maybe tonight he’s not a threat, but he will be. He’s going to come after me until he gets what he wants.
“Scarlett Force,” he says, clucking his tongue as he looks me over. “Best pussy in Prescott. Nice to know that the rumor’s true.”
Now that makes me laugh.
If there is such a rumor, it’s total bullshit. I’ve only ever slept with two guys. Bohnes is too possessive to brag. Aspen … I thought he didn’t want Ash to find out about us?
“Don’t come to the track again. Next time I see you, I’ll kill you.”
Aspen takes another step forward, running his tongue across his lower lip.
“I don’t think so, Scarlett. I think we shared something special that night. I think you like me, even if you don’t want to.”
I’m already shaking my head, reaching down and hiking my skirt up just enough that I can slide my knife from the thigh strap. I hold it in a nice, tight five-fingered grip.
“That’s enough, Aspen. It’s over. Mark my words: you come into the Prescott neighborhood again, and I’ll make sure it’s the last mistake that you ever make.”
He drops his dark gaze down to the knife before taking a step back. For a second there, I think we might actually be done with this thing. Shoulda known better, right?
Fucking rich boys.
He reaches up like he’s going to adjust his torn and drooping suit jacket, and ends up pulling a gun on me. A Ruger, I think. The blood drains from my face as I look up and meet his eyes.
“Take your clothes off, Scarlett. I won’t ask you twice. If you behave, and suck my dick nice and good, I’ll let you go. Otherwise, you’re a very easy person to make disappear. Nobody will miss you.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” I retort, trying to buy myself time as my brain runs through possible ways to get out of this. My gaze drifts to his hand, which is easily clutching the weapon, no sign of that injury I saw on his palm the other day. I lift my gaze back to his face. “Hey, I have a question for you?”
“So long as you ask it while you’re stripping, go ahead.” He smiles at me, and my throat gets tight. Shit, fuck, bitch. This is not a good situation. I need to buy time until Nisha gets here.
Then again … what if he shoots her and me?
I can’t let that happen.
Besides my grandma, I love Nisha, Bastian, and Lemon more than anyone else. At least as much as my sister and aunt, and definitely more than my mother. Sorry, but it’s true. I’m not saying I don’t love my mother at all, but I love my friends more. They’ve been here for me since preschool whereas my mom as been … flighty, at best.
I reach up and start unbuttoning the sleeves of my blouse; there are four buttons at the end of each arm. I couldn’t possibly take it off without undoing those first.
