My courage from earlier withers away,
and I’m back to the helpless fool from yesterday.
I gulp, doing everything in my might to avoid his gaze, despite the holes he keeps digging in my face.
“Your father didn’t tell you not to mingle with Cliffords?”
“I don’t have a father,” he says casually. “But my uncle warned me.”
“Then why didn’t you listen?” I peek at him through my lashes.
His eyes spark with pure trouble. “I’m not good at listening to warnings.”
“Then be my guest.” I can’t help the sarcasm in my voice. “I’d love to see Dad’s reaction when he finds you here. We have Grandfather’s shotgun that hasn’t been used in a long time.”
I flop on the lounge chair and snatch a cold bottle of water. My gaze gets lost in the blueness of pool, pretending he doesn’t exist.
Easier said than done.
His presence fills the space and ripples with something uncomfortable and pulling at the same time.
“Harsh, princess.”
A shadow looms over my sitting position, blocking the afternoon sun and sucking the air from my vicinity like a grim reaper.
My gaze slides up his body to the pressed uniform trousers with both hands in his pockets. His messenger bag is flung across his broad chest and rests on his side. I can’t help pausing at the way his team’s jacket stretches over his developed shoulders like a second skin.
I stop when I finally reach his face.
People as evil as Levi shouldn’t be born with such a sinfully attractive face. Why do they get everything when they’re supposed to be less than nothing?
“Harsh?” I spit out. “I’ve been in two near-death situations because of you. How about that for harsh, King?”
“First of all, I had nothing to do with your first near-death situation. You can’t blame me for all your misfortunes just because you’re bitter.”
“You sure didn’t stop it.”
“I’m not exactly privy to the future, princess.”
“Anyone with enough decency would’ve helped me that day.”
“I’m not sure if you noticed, but I don’t have any of that decency.”
“Yeah, I learnt that the hard way.” I jerk my head away from him and take a long swig of my water. But even the cold liquid doesn’t soothe my burning insides.
“About the second time…” he speaks in a low tone. “If I had a repeat, I would’ve done it differently.”
My gaze snaps to his, expecting to find mockery, but there’s only that hardened light blue gaze.
The fire that’s been brewing inside me weans down in one brutal go.
“Is that an… apology?”
He says nothing. Instead, he flops beside me, crowding my space and filling my nostrils with his sinful masculine, clean scent.
It’s crazy how much he exudes self-confidence. It’s like an inseparable part of who he is.
What he is.