Page 130 of Tall, Royal Hater
“Thank you,” the man said, taking it. “Let me get your change.”
As the man dug through a metal box, I gaped at Shehryar. “Why the fuck did you do that?”
“Tell your mum it was a gift from me,” he said, stuffing his wallet back into his trouser pocket.
“Not all of it was for her—”
“Here’s your change,” the seller said.
I pushed my purse back into my bag, watching in annoyance as Shehryar took the change and put it into the charity collection box the man had chained to the corner of the counter.
“Thank you, and have a good day,” the guy said brightly.
“You too,” Shehryar replied, his hand going to my lower back and guiding me away.
The intimacy of his touch and closeness wasn’t lost on me. In fact, it made my heart hiccup and dance, which only made me more annoyed with what he’d just done.
“Don’t touch me like that,” I said, knocking his arm with my elbow.
“Like what?”
I opened my mouth to explain but fumbled over my words. “Just don’t touch me.”
One corner of his mouth curved up in an inquisitive smirk. Rather than moving his hand away, he snuck it around my waist, gripped it tight, and tugged me closer into his side. “Why not?” he purred.
“Shehryar,” I bit out, my cheeks becoming irritatingly warm.
He was holding me like we were together, as intogether-together, which we of course weren’t, and it should have felt wrong and gross and infuriating and uncomfortable.
But other than the fact I was conscious of a few people looking at us, it wasn’t any of those things.
I fit snugly against him, even with the two inches of added height from my boots, but he still stood more than half a head taller than me, forcing me to crane my neck. Yet I didn’t mind. There was an odd familiarity to being in his arms that didn’t incite any violent anger or hate-fuelled lust anymore. Just minor urges to punch him between cravings to ride to his dick and curious emotions.
His smirk faded, but he didn’t remove his arm. “Why does it irritate you so much that I paid?”
“Because you have no reason to be paying for my stuff.”
He gave me a light squeeze around the waist. “I wanted to. Isn’t that reason enough?”
My heart gave a hard giddy-up again, muzzling me. Frustrated that I had no comeback, I squirmed against him. “Are you gonna remove your hand or not?”
“Or not,” he answered with a smirk. He lowered his face towards mine, and all the hairs on my skin rose to attention. “If you really hated it, you would have already removed my hand yourself.”
My belly did a little summersault as I stared at him dumbly.
Was he…was he flirting?
Was Shehryar Timur flirting with me?Me?
The two sides of my brain side-eyed each other in confusion.
Yo, what the fuck is going on with him today?
Wait…what the fuck is going on withme?
Realising I’d gone mute again, I slapped on a sarcastic grin, ignoring the way my cheeks stung. “Don’t let it get to your head, Sheri. I’m just waiting for a better moment to embarrass you in public. I want it plastered on the front pages of every magazine and newspaper.”
His face fell, and a menacing chuckle bubbled from me. I was pretty sure the corners of his mouth rose in a reluctant smile as he narrowed his eyes, but a delicious, chocolatey aroma warmed my senses. I sniffed the air like a Michelin-star mouse to find out where it was coming from.
