Scarlett Limerence

by K. A Knight

  Scarlett Limerence

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to places, events or real people are entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 K.A. Knight, all rights reserved:

  Written by K.A. Knight

  Edited By Jess from Elemental Editing and Proofreading

  Formatted by Kaila Duff of Duffette Literary Services

  Cover by Jay Aheer at Simply Defined Art

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also By K.A Knight

  For Jordan, our bond forged through orgasms, blood and the need for violence.

  lim·er·ence

  noun

  Limerence is a state of mind which results from a romantic attraction to another person and typically includes obsessive thoughts and fantasies and a desire to form or maintain a relationship with the object of love and have one's feelings reciprocated.

  Chapter One

  Maximus

  4:15pm, my watch blinks at me. A frown tugs at my lips as I reach up and yank on my beard while I peer out of the window, waiting for her like always. She’s late, where is she?

  Annoyance runs through me. Doesn’t she know I hate it when she messes with our schedule?

  4:18pm.

  I start to get angry, then worried. Where the fuck is she? Pacing back and forth in front of the window, I clench and unclench my fists. Just as I debate checking on her, I hear the telltale sound of her old car rumbling down the street.

  Sitting back with a sigh, I let my annoyance bleed away. Her car comes into view, speeding down the road, clunking as it goes. Not for the first time, I wonder if I could get away with buying her a new one. It drives me crazy knowing it isn’t reliable and it sure as hell isn’t safe. What if she broke down somewhere alone at night? No, I need to get her a new one soonish. It’s just how I have to accomplish that, that makes it difficult.

  She pulls up the driveway and shuts off the engine. Like usual, she lingers for a few minutes behind the wheel, replying to messages before she pockets her phone and slips from the creaking door, shutting it softly behind her. She grabs her old, holey backpack from the back seat and slings it over her shoulder—the weight substantial, looking like it might break the bag at any given moment. My eyes run down her curvy form, tracing it, and my cock stands instantly at attention like it has since the first moment I laid eyes on her. When she drops her keys and bends over to grab them, her short, white summer dress reveals her toned thighs, making me bite my lower lip to stop myself from groaning out loud like an animal or a pervert, and my cock jerks in my pants as if to agree with me. When she bends over farther she reveals the bottom of her lacy boy shorts, and I have to close my eyes for a few seconds to regain control.

  I hated it at first, the loss of control I felt around her, but I have long since given up trying to fight it. It wouldn't make a difference, since she is branded inside me, through me, claiming me without even knowing it. She picks up her keys and turns around, her long, blonde, curly hair swaying in the breeze and concealing her beautiful face from me for a moment. I lean forward as she brushes it away, her green eyes sparkling in the sun, her plump, pink lips pursing as she blows away more stray strands. I frown again, noting the bags under her eyes.

  She’s been working too hard recently, pulling more and more late nights studying and working at that stupid fucking job. She hefts the bag higher, her eyes crinkling adorably as the sun shines in her eyes. I freeze when, like usual, they scan the window I’m concealed behind. I know the room I’m in is dark so she can’t see me, but that has never stopped her. Her eyes skitter away as she trudges up the drive with her keys ready. I watch her slip silently inside and my heart races as I watch her go.

  Fuck.

  My cock jerks in my pants again and I close my eyes, stifling my need. Isn’t it bad enough that I feel like a fucking pervert watching her? Blowing out a breath, I step back from the window as my thoughts instantly go to the car situation. I know she isn't at work tonight, she will be staying in studying, so it makes sense to do it while she doesn’t need it.

  After all, I would do anything for her.

  She just doesn’t know it yet.

  The car I ordered from a friend turns up just before dark and I check it over, ensuring it’s safe to drive before slipping it into my garage and closing the door. I hand over the money, which Lee counts before nodding his head and slipping into the pickup his friend drove here. I watch him go, burying my hands in my pockets to fight off the chill in the air. I should have put my jacket on. Autumn is in full swing, and soon it will be too cold to stand outside in just a t-shirt, black jeans, and boots. Even in this cold weather, she still insists on wearing dresses—I wonder if that’s all she owns. Wouldn’t be surprising, since even working full-time she seems to spend her money on everything but herself.

  Just as I turn to head back inside, the door next door shuts gently and I freeze, knowing it’s her. Only she shuts it like that, the others slam it like they are trying to break the whole house with their anger, but not her. I can feel her eyes on me, running down my body, and I have to suppress a shiver as I drag my dark eyes across the chain-link fence separating her driveway from mine. I look up and meet her stunning emerald gaze.

  She smiles shyly at me, her cheeks slightly pink. Fuck, she’s beautiful. So fucking beautiful and way too innocent, especially for a man like me. It doesn't stop me from wanting her, even though it makes me feel like a sick bastard. Her white dress swirls around her legs in the breeze, and when I spot the purple bruise on her knee, I have to bite my tongue to stop the growl wanting to erupt. Who the fuck hurt her? I’ll kill them.

  Where I’m all darkness, she’s all light, and merely being in her presence makes me feel like a devil facing an angel, like she can see all the blood on my hands and body, yet she smiles at me anyway. Her blonde head tilts when I don’t say anything.

  “Hi, Mr. Hunt,” she greets, her voice sweet, wrapping around me like honey. It’s low and purring, making my cock rock-hard again. Not wanting to rearrange myself in front of her, I turn slightly away.

  “How many times have I told you to call me Max?” I snap, not meaning to be harsh, but my blood is all heading somewhere else—not my brain, that’s for sure.

  She flinches, her smile faltering, but she recovers quickly. She always does, takes whatever the world or me dishes to her with that same patient fucking smile. Like she knows something we don’t.
>
  “Sorry, Max,” she replies softly, leaning farther onto the fence. It’s an innocent move, but my eyes automatically drop to the neckline of her dress where her breasts are now almost spilling out.

  Fuck, the worst bit is she doesn’t even know she’s doing it. She doesn’t understand how fucking irresistible she is. Most women, especially the ones I know, use their body to get what they want. They use men, wielding their bodies as weapons, yet she hasn't got a clue.

  “What's wrong?” I ask, my voice low and rough from need.

  The wind tugs on my hair, and I grimace before reaching up and quickly tying the top bit back in a ponytail. It’s getting long, almost down to my shoulders now, and way too fucking thick. I’d always had short hair, but when I’d once overheard her say she liked men with long hair, well, you can fucking bet I let it grow. It’s annoying as hell, but it's worth the appreciative looks I get when she doesn’t think I notice her checking me out. Like now, when her eyes go to my arms as I deftly tie my hair back, and her cheeks heat when she realises I caught her.

  “Ah, I just wanted to let you know I found Milo in my room again,” she tells me with laughter lacing her tone, and my eyes narrow on the dog trying to hide behind her.

  When he sees me looking, he lolls his tongue out and presses into her leg like a fucking puppy. Yeah, me too, buddy. I don't blame the poor bastard, I’d also stick to her like that if I could get away with it.

  “Milo,” I order, my tone fierce.

  I hear him yip before he runs around her and races down my long drive, coming to my side and instantly sitting.

  “You’ve trained him real well,” she points out.

  I look down at the fleabag and nod. She’s right, I have. He was a shy, timid, little three-legged puppy who did whatever he wanted when I got him. He hated most people, probably due to being abused and then tossed aside like rubbish. I soon got that out of him, but I had to set rules and make sure he could behave. Fuck, I never wanted a dog. The only reason I took him was because when she came home crying with him in her car after finding him on the side of the road, I couldn’t turn him away. I knew she couldn't afford to look after him and it would only cause trouble, and she had sobbed like her heart was breaking when I found her on her driveway cuddling him. She had looked at me with those tear soaked gems and I had found myself volunteering to take him.

  Fucking idiot is what I am. So I ended up with a dog. One who steals all the covers, and has a strange habit of breaking in through her window and sleeping on her bed. Again, I don’t blame him, but if I was sneaking into her room, it sure as shit wouldn't be to sleep.

  “Sorry, I’ve tried to stop him,” I grumble, narrowing my eyes on the too happy dog.

  He merely licks my hand and snuggles into me, not the least bit intimidated when everyone else in the world—apart from her—would be cowering away from such a look and with good reason. She laughs then, drawing my gaze, the musical sound wrapping around my cock and heart and squeezing.

  “Don’t worry about it, he’s a nice snuggle buddy,” she teases, her lips tipping up and drawing my eyes. Shit, now I’m thinking about them wrapped around my cock. My jeans dig into the hard length, and I shift to try and release the pressure.

  “Lucky bastard,” I mutter to him.

  “What was that?” she asks, and I shake my head.

  “Okay, well, I thought I better bring him over. You know she hates it when he’s in the house, didn’t want her to shout at him again,” she says sadly, and we look at her two-story white house behind her, both with disgust. It’s probably another reason Milo sneaks in there, to protect her, he always has since he was a pup and she found him.

  Both of us are in love with the same girl. How fucking sad.

  “Thanks, Scarlett,” I offer, my hand dropping to stroke the dog’s head without meaning to.

  She grins at me again and steps away from the fence. “No problem, Mr. Hunt. Have a good day.” She turns then, and sweeps back into her house, taking the fucking sunshine with her. Dropping my head back, I groan and pinch my nose.

  “You little stalker,” I admonish the dog, but he just licks my hand again as if to say, who are you to talk?

  “Yeah, yeah, come on, we have work to do,” I grumble, and he trots by my side as we head back into the house. I throw her place one last look as if trying to catch a glimpse of her, but she’s gone.

  Scarlett Fucking Richards, what have you done to me?

  Chapter Two

  Scarlett

  I’m distracted and I know exactly whom to blame—Maximus Hunt, the hottie next door. Lying on my bed with my books spread out in front of me, I stare at the words explaining the politics behind types of framing and find the pages blurring together. My mind is focused on him, the man who’s been on my mind ever since he moved in. I was a teenager and he was every girl’s and man’s wet dream...still is. He’s rough, snarly, antisocial, and hot as hell…only, he has a softer side. I see it from time to time, but it’s clear he doesn’t let many see that part of him.

  Covered from neck to feet in tattoos, with long dark hair, a beard, and even darker eyes, it’s clear why people stay clear of him…all apart from me. Why do I seek him out? Why am I so drawn to him? I know it’s a crush, a dangerous one, and I thought it would fade over time, but with each swift conversation or look, it only seems to get worse.

  Sighing again, I tap my pencil on my books before throwing my hair back in a bun, wanting it out of my face. I can hear my mum and the perv downstairs arguing again. They’re obviously starting to drink early, so even though my stomach twists in hunger, I stay in my room. When was the last time I ate? This morning maybe? I really need to remember to grab something between lectures.

  Giving up on studying, I flip onto my back and stare at the cream-coloured ceiling with the damp spot in the corner. My room isn’t overly large, just big enough for a double bed, a chest of drawers, and built-in wardrobe, but it’s clean and mine. I’ve added personal touches over the years when I could afford to—when I wasn’t saving or paying the bills. Even now, I remind myself I need to pay the phone bill or they will cut it off again—it’s not like Mum is going to. In fact, the only thing she pays for is booze and drugs. She’s been this way for years, ever since my dad walked out on her for sleeping with his brother. Why he didn’t take me, I’ll never know, and just thinking about it sends a pang through my heart. It was a long time ago, but it’s hard not to feel abandoned and unwanted.

  He used to call, he used to write letters, but eventually they died off. I found out a couple of years ago, when Mum was particularly drunk, that he has a new family. She threw it in my face, tore what was left of my broken heart out, and stomped on the pieces. He left me with her, the woman who would rather shoot up than look after me. I can’t even remember the last time my mum and I actually spoke. We exist like ghosts in this house, both passing each other without looking or talking, unless it’s for her to scream at me to clean up after her and her boy toys, or to buy more booze.

  I used to be able to deal with it, but her new boyfriend is a vile piece of work. In fact, he’s the reason there’s a lock on my bedroom door, and I got another job just so I could save up faster to move out. I tried to tell my mum, but she blamed me, of course, and threw a bottle at my head. That was a fun day.

  When my stomach gurgles turn into griping pains, I know I have to get up and get food. Schooling my face, I flick open the lock and sneak downstairs, hoping to remain undetected as I grab something to eat and run back to my room. I make it to the kitchen safely with the sound of the music pounding from the living room covering my steps. I hurry and make a sandwich, and grab some crisps and a drink. I’m just reaching for a cup when a hand lands on my arse with a resounding smack, making me release the glass. I watch as it tumbles to the sink below and shatters, the sound loud.

  I whirl around to see the sleazebag behind me. He’s already red-faced, sloppy, and stumbling from drinking, and when he leers at me, I shrink bac
k. “Stay away from me,” I warn.

  He steps closer, pinning me to the countertop with his body, and I have to crinkle my nose against his unwashed stench and the alcohol on his breath. “Fucking cock tease, walking around in those tiny dresses. Why don’t you be a good girl and give it up like your mummy does,” he slurs.

  “Back off,” I demand, my voice steady. I’m used to dealing with assholes at work, but this guy really creeps me out. Maybe it’s because I know he means it. Two weeks ago, he snuck into my room while I was asleep, and before I knew it his hand was over my mouth, the other shoving my shorts down. I fought him off, screaming and kicking until he fell back and cracked his head on the door. While he was trying to get up, I kicked him out and slammed the door, holding it with my body weight as he threw himself against it, shouting and yelling at me. Eventually, he grew tired and went to play with my mother instead. I bought the lock the very next day.

  “Aww, come on, sexy. Least let me peek.” He grins in what I’m guessing is supposed to be a seductive way, and reaches out to grab my breast, hard.