Selling Scarlett Read Online Free PDF

for Cross, being so close to him makes me feel warm. I imagine him sitting at his desk with a sketchpad and a pencil, dictating the design of a new Cross Hybrids bike, rough around the edges and pretty damn sexy.
He folds my head under his chin, and his deep voice vibrates through my ribs. "I should never have told you to come back here. I know Hunter West, and he's—" He inhales deeply, his nose in my hair, and then pushes me away, his eyes flying to mine. "Elizabeth, you didn't ."
"Didn't what?"
He looks me over, up and down, and when his gaze falls on my left arm, all the color drains out of his face. "Fucking hell," he whispers.
"What?"
He snatches my purse, pulling out Hunter's cravat and waving it around. "Jesus, Lizzy. Really? Hunter West? "
I nod, because I'm not sure what else to do. “What's wrong with—”
I'm going to ask what's so wrong with Hunter West—a rhetorical question whose answer is among the hundreds of scandalous rumors I’ve collected about Hunter over the years. But before I can finish my question, Cross turns around and slams his fist into the wall, striking it hard enough to cause a loud boom.
I jump on him, stunned and appalled. "Cross! What the hell is wrong with you?!"
For half a second, he freezes, and I can feel the pent up rage seethe in him.
Another half a second and it’s gone.
He gently removes my arms and turns to look at me, his expression carefully subdued. "Do you need a ride home, Lizzy? Do you want to talk?"
"I'm fine,” I say, and his mouth twists. He tugs me down the hall, back toward the green bedroom, where I hear slapping again and Hunter's moan. My stomach lurches.
"Don't think that you're the only one," Cross says. His eyes bore into mine, looking for something I can't name. "Did he force you, Liz?"
"No way! Of course he didn't." I grab Cross's hand and drag him back the other way, toward the empty foyer. "Call off the state of emergency. I’ve still got my V-card. Unstamped ."
“For how long?” he asks darkly, and I’ve had enough.
“I don’t care how much you’ve been drinking—” I begin, but he cuts me off.
“Do you really want to be just another fuck?”
I recoil, feeling like I've just been slapped. It takes me a full half-second to gather my thoughts, and when I do, I'm seething. "I could never be 'just another fuck', so don't you say that shit to me. I'll make my own choices and I don't do a bad job, unlike some people who drink themselves stupid and sleep with any warm body that will have them."
He works his jaw, and I know it was a low blow. He’s told me practically all his secrets since we were kids, and I know he uses sex to get affection.
"I'm just trying to be your friend, Lizzy.” But his voice is hard.
I feel steam coming out my ears. I'm judged enough based on my mom, and I don't need Cross adding to it. "Why were you back here?"
The look on his face tells me exactly what I had suspected: he was looking for space for his two redheads.
"I'm not like him," he starts.
"Right," I snap.
I can see the hurt in his eyes. Instantly, I'm gutted.
"Cross, I'm sorry—"
But he's out the front doors in a gust of frigid air, and I can't take back what I've said. I stand there, trembling harder than I was before, feeling angry at him and like a shitty friend.
For a few long seconds, my stomach clenches as I ask myself why Hunter? I know that he's a man ho. I know he doesn't 'like' me. He doesn't even know me. And yet...I've never even had a crush on anyone but him. In one long second, I realize how messed up I must really be, and it makes me want to cry.
I kill the urge quickly, my shoulders heaving as I stare through the wavy glass panes on the ornate doors. I can hear Cross's bike crank from somewhere in the direction of the front of the house, and despite how terrible I feel, I don't want to leave without talking to the one close friend I have left.
I press my back against the wall, taking big, deep breaths and blotting the stinging wetness from my eyes