Page 26 of Reluctant Heir

“Get up.” The gruff voice barking at me has my eyes flying open and hands rising in a defensive position.

I blink a few times at the brightness and realize I forgot to close my curtains last night, so the room is unusually sunny for the morning. It faces east, so I get the early morning sun blazing in the windows, which I normally like because I’m like a cat and I curl up in the rays to nap. But this morning, when I’m rudely yelled at, it’s not so fun.

“What’s going on?” I ask and sit up to see Connor standing at the end of my bed.

He’s dressed in a dark suit that fits him just right, black tie, and his curly, dark hair is brushed and tamed to look presentable. I let my gaze rake over him for a long moment. He looks delicious.

What? No, he doesn’t.

I frown at my internal thoughts.

Then, I notice he’s scowling at me.

“You are going to the funeral.”

“What? No, I’m not going to your father’s funeral.”

“Yes, you are. Get up.”

“Can’t you see how messed up that is? You can’t take your dad’s murderer to the funeral.”

“I can do anything I damn well please. There’s a new dress hanging in the closet.”

“What? How is there a new dress?”

“I had it delivered last night.”

“While I was sleeping?”

I watch him stalk around the side of the bed, his long suit-clad legs eating up the distance between us. He bends over me, placing both hands on either side of my body, which is still mostly covered by the sheet I’m under, and he lowers his face to mine. If he didn’t look like a hurricane about to blow me away, he would resemble someone about to kiss me.

I could arch my neck up just a bit, and our mouths would touch.

I frown, wondering where that thought even came from.

I don’t want to kiss him. Do I?

No.

I hate him.

Or at the very least, I can’t stand him. He’s everything I detest.

So, why is my body not getting the message?

I study him—the full lips, the bottom slightly larger than the top—and then I see him licking the shiny juice from them last night. That’s probably what he would look like if he went down on me. His head between my thighs, me glistening on those stupid,too pretty for a guylips.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” he whispers.

I try not to breathe too fast because I probably have dragon morning breath.

“This room is mine. This house is mine.Youare mine, Little Bird. Don’t be worried about what happens because you can’t control it. You belong to me for as long as I say because I know things about you that you probably don’t want told.”

Did he just give me a nickname?

“I know things about you, Connor Soltorre,” I fire back, morning breath be damned.

He doesn’t move.

---