𝒍𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒂 ➶ [ s. walsh ]

xiii. | ❝ pretty little girls. ❞

LOLITA.
xiii. | ❝ pretty little girls. ❞

✧

"BUSY?" CASSANDRA inquired curiously, leaning in the doorway of Shane's newly-claimed bedroom with a snowy-white towel loosely wrapped around her slender frame.

He lifted his head, his dark eyes roaming over her delicate form as a slight smirk tugged at his lips. "Nah. Enjoy your shower, princess?"

The doe-eyed beauty shivered at his new nickname for her, the mere sound of his voice - low, possessive, and rumbling - bringing her out in goosebumps. And it wasn't hard to tell why.

"Yeah," she responded swiftly, resting a hand at the base of her throat and tracing her fingertips over her damp skin lightly. "It makes a nice change not to be sitting around in a pool of my own blood."

Shane held back a grimace, shaking his head as he finished rummaging through the wardrobe that took up the length of one of the walls, and turned around fully to look at her. "You are too damn smart with that mouth of yours, you know that?"

The redhead rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him, her demeanour playful. "At least I'm not menstruating, anymore. Or I'd probably rip your throat out.... With my teeth," she added, shooting him a cheeky grin.

"Shut up and go get dressed, you bad girl." He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he watched her turn and flounce out of his room, lips pursed in a sultry pout.

Shane had noticed that the safety and stability of their new - and albeit, temporary - home had brought Cassandra into high spirits. And that made him happy. Because when he saw that breathtaking smile curl across those full, rosy lips of hers, and when he heard that saccharine giggle ring in his ears, he felt a warmth in his heart that he just couldn't shift. It was an unfamiliar sensation, but pleasant all the same.

Whistling to himself, Shane pulled off his shirt and reached down to unbuckle his belt, kicking off his trousers and leaving them in a careless pile on the floor. He headed straight for the bathroom and shut the door firmly behind him, before glancing at the steamed-up mirror and ambling over to wipe it with the palm of his hand.

He stood there for a few moments, simply gazing at his reflection in disbelief. He looked somewhat unhinged, with dark circles beneath his bloodshot eyes, his ebony curls untamed, and several days-worth of scruffy stubble gracing his chiselled jawline.

"Man, I really gotta shave that shit."

***

When Shane finally came downstairs, clean-shaven and reeking of Hugo Boss cologne, he was greeted by Cassandra dancing around the kitchen wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt that just about brushed her upper thighs, and an old Arctic Monkeys song blaring out of the small battery-operated stereo that stood proudly on the windowsill.

"You used to get it in your fishnets," the pretty redhead bawled, clambering onto the kitchen counter and beginning to open the cupboards one by one, rummaging through them curiously. "Now you only get it in your nightdress-"

"That's cute," Shane commented from the doorway, a lazy grin tracing across his lips as his gaze flickered from her ankles to her pink and black lace knickers that were just about visible, and simply begging for his attention.

Cassandra, in the meantime, jumped in surprise and almost tumbled off the counter-top. "Shit! Where the hell did you come from?"

The dark-haired sheriff's deputy chuckled, strolling over and quickly lifting her into his arms, before setting her firmly on the tiled floor. "The shower. And Jesus, how old are you again? You got a mouth like a damn sailor."

The brown-eyed beauty pursed her lips in a sultry pout, holding back the urge to release a torrent of curse-words, just to be contrary. "Last time I checked, you weren't my dad. I'm not a kid - I'm nineteen."

Shane felt his heart plummet as soon as those words left her soft, utterly kissable lips. With the sheer confidence she exuded, he had been certain that she was in her early twenties.

Even so, it seemed as though his brain and his dick were currently on two very different tangents. And at that particular moment in time, it was the latter that was in control of the reigns.

"You should watch your mouth, sunshine. Pretty little girls like you ain't supposed to swear." His hands lingered on her waist a moment longer than they should have, her skin fluttering like the beat of a butterfly's wings beneath the gentle caress of his strong fingers. When he lifted his head, his dark whorls met hers and it was as if something had changed. Her eyes seemed to hold a kind of lust-filled gleam that he had never witnessed in them before. It was absolutely entrancing.

Stop it, a stern voice in the back of his head told him, and he allowed his hands to fall limply at his sides, before tucking them in the pockets of his recently-purloined sweatpants. "So, uh.... What is this crap?" he asked, jerking his head in the direction of the stereo.

Cassandra's face fell as soon as she felt his tender touch disappear, and in order to hide her poorly-veiled disappointment, she turned abruptly and began searching the kitchen cabinets thoroughly for cooking implements. "This 'crap'," she began. "Is the Arctic Monkeys. Clearly someone in this house had good taste."

"Good taste, my ass," Shane murmured with a throaty chuckle. He hesitated when she didn't respond, simply observing her carefully with his brows furrowed. The dark-eyed deputy waited a few moments, before moving close behind the attractive redhead and resting his large hands firmly on the counter either side of her. "You want any help with that, princess?"

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