Page 185 of Tall, Royal Hater
I licked the back of my teeth, thinking about it. “One kiss.”
“Three,” he countered.
My lips parted. “You’re fucking trying to barter with me?”
A lopsided smirky smile tugged at his mouth. “Yes.”
The fucking audacity. It was irritatingly hot. And that wasn’t going to do.
I cocked my hip and crossed my arms over my chest. “Say it on your knees, and I’ll consider it.”
Of course, he wasn’t going to do it. That was the whole—
Why the fuck is he getting shorter by the second?
My arms slipped to my sides in stunned disbelief as Shehryar got down on one knee right there on the pavement.
There weren’t many people around, but therewerepeople walking up and down the pavements on either side of the road, coming out of apartment buildings in couples or with dogs and families. And they were looking, probably assuming what his one-knee position was known for. I didn’t mind being the centre of attention, but being serenaded in public was a big fuckingno.
“Get up,” I hissed through my teeth.
The fucking dickhead grinned. “Let me kiss you three times a day. Please, little menace.”
I widened my eyes in warning. “Shehryar, get up.”
“Say I can, and I will.”
“Fucking get up.”
“Please, Mariyah.”
“Okay, fine,” I snapped. “Now get up.”
My face was burning and no doubt blotchy by the time he stood. Thank goodness it was dark out.
He smiled at me, but I glared, fuming through my nose. “I fucking hate you,” I said.
His smile widened as he clasped my fingers and lifted them to his mouth. “I know.” He kissed the back of my palm, his bristly skin cold, eyes bearing into mine, and my heart jumped.
I gulped slowly. “That counts as a kiss.”
“I know.” He kissed over the same spot again before lowering our entangled hands. He didn’t let go and traced his thumb in circles over my skin as he asked, “Have you eaten yet?”
“No,” I grumbled, irritated by how good it felt to be touched by him.
“Can I make you dinner tonight?”
“No.”
“Should I order something instead?”
I mulled it over. “Maybe. I’ll think about it and message you when I decide.”
“I take it that means I can’t come up,” he queried, staring down at our hands.
“No. You can’t.”
His eyes didn’t dull with hurt or offence by my refusal, they softened in understanding. “Okay.”
