Page 98 of Made for Cyn
“What kind of business?”
“Why are you asking me all these questions all of a sudden?” he snarls.
“Because shouldn’t I know about my boyfriend?”
“Boyfriend?” he says, raising his brows.
Oh boy, flushing to the roots of my hair, I glance down at my hands. I thought he agreed, and now I’m fucking mortified.
He appears over my shoulder and grabs my chin, but I resist because I don’t want to see what he’s thinking. Of course, he wins, and I’m forced to meet his emerald stare.
“Oh,” I breathe when I find him gazing at me with blazing eyes. They’re so hot that I’m caught, my heart jumping when his mouth curls in a devastating smile.
“We’ll be back,” he says gruffly, grabbing my hand.
Jig chortles and Bastion frowns, but Cyn ignores them as he pulls me from the room. Breathlessly, I follow and we enter the house, but he pauses inside the door before an older woman and a young girl sitting at the kitchen table.
No more than five years old, the girl is a dead ringer for Cyn, with her dark hair and glittering eyes. The woman beside her looks at me shrewdly from her shrunken body and asks sharply, “Who’s this, Cynster?”
Cyn’s hand tightens around mine, but his face is bland as he says, “This is Rain, Gran. Rain, this is Gran and . . . Nevaeh, my sister.”
“Hi,” I say shyly, shrinking when his grandmother frowns but Neveah waves wildly.
“C-c-c-ynster, when are we going to play my game?”
I spy the flash of frustration on her face as she bites her lip with a huff, and my heart skips a beat when Cyn says gruffly, “Later, Veah.”
“Okay, but you promise?”
“Yes, baby,” he says before pulling me away and down the hall.
Bemused, I follow, surprised by another side of Cyn I’ve never seen, and this one is most pleasing.
Once we’re in his room, he pulls me into his arms and kisses me, but as amazing as it feels, I’m stiff as a board.
“What?” He pulls away, resting his forehead against mine.
“Your grandmother,” I whisper, and he chuckles.
“Don’t worry about her. She’s fine.”
“Uh, no,” I say, pushing him away.
Sighing, he runs his hands through his hair, leaving the strands adorably on end. “Fuck me. Cock blocking already.”
“What does that mean?” I ask with a surge of embarrassment.
“We’ve been together less than a day, and I’m already begging for pussy.”
“That’s . . . horribly crude,” I exclaim, turning away. “Is that why you brought me here?”
“Beauty, a guy thinks about sex every thirty fucking seconds or some shit. It’s always a reason to see you,” he says dryly.
“Great. Well, I’m not having sex with you while your grandmother is down the hall. And why would she be okay with it? Have you had other girls here?”
“As a matter of fact, no,” he growls, picking me up and setting me on the bed before pushing me down and laying over top of me.
“Cyn,” I whisper.
