Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Cute. She’s forgotten I know that, too. “I know what you love. Even things you don’t know you love. Always remember…” I wait for Ethel to be on the other side of the door. “Daddy knows.”
She takes a bite of salad, watching me over her fork. “I can’t decide if you’re a dream come true or a stalker.”
“What if I’m the stalker of your dreams?”
She nibbles her arugula and considers it. “That might work.” Her eyes sparkle and she smiles again.
“My turn, then. You asked one question and now I ask one.”
“That’s fair,” she says with her mouth full. “Shoot.”
I want to ask her more about her dyslexia, more about her background, but I don’t want to push too hard too fast. Not like this anyway. When it comes to fucking her, that’ll be a different story. “You don’t look or act anything like the girls we’ve hired before.”
“Oh wait. Wait, that’s something I’ve been dying to know!” she chimes in. I know she’s deflecting, but I let it slide for now. Fuck knows, I don’t want her to start asking too many questions about me in return.
“About all these girls.” She narrows her eyes. “Where do they go? How do you pay them so much? Please, God, don’t tell me they’re all buried in the garden or now earning their keep in the basement working as cam girls.”
The buried in the garden thing is darkly funny, but the cam girl thing—that says something to me, something she doesn’t realize. It’s not what your garden variety eighteen-year-old girl would mention. Coupled with the mystery around her schooling, I know there’s more here. Wherever she came from before this, it wasn’t good.
And that just makes me want to protect her even more.
“After they leave, they go off on their way, a hundred thousand richer. Beyond that, it’s not my business. I just don’t like attachments.”
“But do you…” she gestures at the space between us, “… from before, when we were. Do you do that with…”
“Fuck no.” I sound angrier than I intended. But that’s good. She needs to know how fucking special she is.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to suggest that—you’re, I didn’t…” she stammers, but I see the relief wash over her face.
“I like when you’re unsure. It makes me want to teach you the rules. All the fucking rules.”
But I know she didn’t mean anything by it. And it’s a fair question. My reaction is on me. The idea of someone taking advantage of girls like that makes me fucking crazy. Just like she does. “I’ve never done anything like today with anyone but you.”
She looks reassured and peaceful again.
The prettier she gets the more I want to ruin her.
She gets back to eating her salad. A leaf of arugula gets stuck on her lip. I gesture to my face. “Got a little…”
“Oh geez, sorry.” She feels for it with her silky pink tongue. “Did I get it?”
“Yeah. Except now all I can think of is that pretty tongue doing more important things than licking a piece of lettuce.”
A walnut falls off her fork. Her cheeks flush with embarrassment and desire. Her nipples perk up under the satin. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
She studies me for a long moment then looks down into her lap. “Make me wet with just a look or a word. It’s annoying.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Just you fucking wait, little girl.”
Dinner is pretty goddamned wonderful. The last month getting to know her from afar paid off, because even though everything she says is new, it also feels familiar. And right. Like home.
The more we talk, the more I like her. And the more I let myself like her, the more I’m willing to admit that I don’t like her.
I love her.
But how can I offer her any kind of life when I barely have one of my own?
The main course arrives and she devours it. She starts off with her fork and knife, but halfway through she picks up the drumstick and eats it with her hands. For a neat freak like me, it’s a shock. But a shock I welcome. Because I adore the life she brings to my life. The warmth she brings to my world.
Not to mention how fucking bad I want her. Every minute I’m not inside her is a minute I can’t bear.
All these fucking feelings, they’re all new. The need. The want. The hope. She’s unleashing feelings and hopes in me that I have never felt before. Never thought I’d feel in my life.
But I’m still so fucking curious about her. I know a lot, but not enough. “So tell me. If you could do anything, what would it be?”
She blinks a few times, looking down at the tablecloth, as if completely surprised by the question. “Anything?”