"Y-yes. I would like to get out of the house." His face pinches like my answer caused him pain, and I feel a tug of sadness. Is he annoyed at having to take me out? Maybe I have been reading all of this wrong.
"Where would you like to go?"
"You know what never mind. I will go and read for a while." I begin to walk away when a branding iron is placed on my skin. I hiss and look at the spot. His hand looks so massive against my tiny arms.
"Tell me. Where would you like to go?" Jesus. His bossy voice is even more sexy.
"The museum would be nice."
"We leave in twenty minutes." he turns abruptly and walks away, leaving a trail of fog behind him. I don't know what to think.
THREE
CLICK
Shit. It's like I have been given a lobotomy. What the hell was I thinking, agreeing to be alone with her for what will no doubt be hours? Suddenly I am a masochist. When she walked down the stairs in an off-the-shoulder shirt and a pair of jeans so tight they look painted on, I wanted to fall at her feet and declare my love for her before lapping at her innocent pussy and claiming it. I should have told her how gorgeous she looked and took her hand in mine, but fuck, I am hanging on by a thread, and it is damn near invisible. So here she sits beside me, hands fidgeting as she looks out the window.
"Are you nervous about something?" Yeah, she is, asshole. Every word you say makes you sound annoyed and angry. Now I am talking to myself.
"Um... no, not really." She says, licking her lips before turning her face from me too damn quick. If I weren't so captivated by her voice, I would have reassured her, but hearing her speak is like a choir of angels. You're stunned into not moving and then rendered motionless unless the fog lets up. She clears her throat and sighs. "Thank you for taking me to the museum. I know you are busy and everything." She has no idea how busy I should be doing all sorts of things, but ever since she came here, I have been doing nothing but either following her around in the shadows like a stalker or finding reasons to be in the same room as her. I would do anything for her.
"It's not a problem." Asshole. Say more to her. "So tell me about you, Lily. How many boyfriends did you leave back home?" Yes, Angel. Tell me how many little boys I am going to have to castrate for being within breathing distance of you. Her giggle makes my cock happy but also confuses me. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing. I am sorry. I was just laughing that you think I have a boyfriend. Boys don't like me." She doesn't sound sad, just matter of fact.
"I am sure that is not true." There is no way men look past this girl and not want to get their dicks inside of her.
"It is. They think I am too…flighty. My head is always in the clouds is what everyone else says to me. I am mostly an annoyance because I am too soft and don't like the negative part of life. Well except to my sisters. They love me the way I am." Fucking morons in New York. I want to go there and kill every swinging dick that ignored her and made her feel less than the perfect angel she is.
"Anyone who doesn't appreciate you, is not worthy, Lily. Remember that." She looks at me, her eyes searching mine for something for a second before she smiles and fucking blinds me with the sun of her gaze.
"Thank you." She looks like she wants to say something else but changes her mind. I feel like a rescue puppy all of a sudden. I am starving for her to continue to speak to me, my throat parched without her attention on me.
"Why aren't you in school?" I just need her to keep talking to me.
"Too busy daydreaming." She bites her lip when she answers, but she doesn't look at me, and I feel hollow. How has she become my oasis in a desert so fast?
"Daydreaming about what?" She mumbles something. I swear she says, 'things I will never have,' but I don't get a chance to ask. We are pulling up to the museum. Damn this girl. The more I find out, the more I want to know.
FOUR
LILY
Why did he have to ask me that question? I hate when people ask me what I want to do with my life. Or why am I not in school? It is not that I don't know the answer, because I do. But people judge me when I answer it, so I stopped. The only person that really knows what I want to do with my life is my twin sister, Chiara. I learned to be embarrassed early on when I would tell people that I want to have babies and design book covers. That's it. I want a husband that can't keep his hands off me loves our babies as much as me and protects his family no matter what. How in the world am I supposed to tell him that? When I look over, I see his hands are clenching the steering wheel like his life depends on it.