Page 10 of Legacy
Soft, at first. Testing.Tasting.
Her lips part, just enough. That’s all the invitation I need. My hand slides into her hair as I deepen the kiss, my tongue stroking against hers, and—
Fuck.
She tastes sweet. Warm. Better than I expected.
Too good.
I pull back before I do something stupid. Before I forget what this is.
Her eyes are dazed, lips parted, cheeks glowing. There’s a flush crawling down her neck, and I want to follow it with my mouth.
But there’s something else.
A glimmer. Desire, sure. But also… mystery.
She’s not just beautiful. She’s something else. Something unspoken. And that’s the part that’s dangerous.
“Scarlet,” I whisper, her name rolling off my tongue like a secret I want to keep.
She breathes in sharply, like it surprises her. Like no one’s ever said her name like that before, with heat. Withhunger.
With intent.
I can’t help but chuckle, soft, quiet, caught off guard. The way she looks at me, like she’s unsure whether to be afraid or enchanted… it’spure. Innocence and curiosity war in her eyes, threaded with just enough fear to make it real. She’s not playing a game. She doesn’t even know she’s in one.
It’s fascinating.
She’s like a book I haven’t read yet. Every glance, every twitch of her mouth, tells a story waiting to be unraveled. Her gaze drops to her lap, shy, and then lifts again with the smallest smile; timid but brave.
She’s young. But not weak.
There’s something in her that wants more. More than the dress, the wine, the party. More thanme.
And something in me starts to stir. I don’t like it.
Because part of me wants to drag her beneath me and watch that shy smile twist into something more seductive.
But another part, one I don’t listen to often, says slow down. Tread carefully.
Then she does something I don’t expect.
Her fingers reach out—tentative, trembling—and brush against my cheek.
It’s nothing. A ghost of a touch.
But it hits like a lightning strike, right through my spine.
No one touches me like that. Not with gentleness. Not withcare.
It was a mistake, letting her in because now I’m addicted; to the softness in her touch, the taste of her lips and now that she’s here touching me like I’m something important… I can’t imagine her walking out the door.
So, I do something I never do. I ask her about herself.
“What do you do, Scarlet?”
Her fingers fall away, and I immediately hate the loss of them. She tilts her head slightly, eyebrows pinching together like she doesn’t quite understand the question.
