Exposed (Exposed 1)

"I think that's what you generally do." I want to be diplomatic but he was the one who showed up on my doorstep the other night looking for the number of a woman he just met a few hours earlier.

"Why would you think that?"

"You wanted Petra's number after the party." I gaze out the window, playing the next words I want to say over and over in my mind. They have to come out right. "I assume it was so you two could hook up."

"She's beautiful." His words bite. It's an obvious statement but one I don't need to hear.

"Exactly," I counter. "You do that, don't you? Have sex with one beautiful woman after another?"

"I try to get some sleep in between." He laughs.

I cringe. He didn't disagree with the statement. "That's not what my life is about," I say quietly.

"What is your life about?" He rests his hand on my knee and I flinch from the contact.

"School and work," I blurt out. "Those things are what I care about."

"You're on semester break right now." His hand traces a faint path along my knee.

I feel my breathing stall at his touch. "Why are you doing this? I'm not your type."

His hand drops to the seat. I can hear his breathing change. "What's my type?"

"Petra. Alexa. Someone beautiful. Not me." I look at his face. I want him to se

e that I'm serious. I know I'm not the type of woman he generally pursues.

"You're very beautiful." He meets my gaze and I see something within his eyes. "You're different."

"I don't want to be another conquest." I reach for the handle of the door. "Men like you don't pay attention to girls like me."

"What does that mean?" His eyes are glued to my hand. I jump slightly when I hear the unmistakable click of the car doors locking.

I try desperately to mask the panic I feel. "Please don't lock the doors," I whisper. "I don't even know you."

I catch my breath again when I hear the doors unlock.

"What do you want to know about me?" He pulls his hand away from my knee and leans back in his seat so he's almost facing me directly.

"Anything," I murmur. "I don't know anything about you."

"I'm twenty-six. I split my time between Boston and New York." He sighs before he continues, "I travel way more than I'd like for my job. I work too much."

I smile at the information. He's twenty-six. He's five years older than me. He seems so much older. Maybe I just feel that much younger than him because he's different than any other man I've ever been around. He's cultured, he's sophisticated and he's now showing me a side of him I didn't realize was there before.

"Tell me more about you." He lightly touches my hand.

I don't pull back. I adore his touch. I like the way it makes me feel inside. "You know a lot about me already." I lift the corner of my mouth in a sly smile. "I'm twenty-one. I go to work and school."

"That's it?" He cups his hand over mine now. "No exciting stories of your past to share."

I instinctively reach for my chest with my other hand. It's a reflex response when I feel I'm exposing too much. My scar reminds me that I have to be protective of myself and of the person who gave me my life back. "Nothing really," I whisper.

"Why do I scare you?" His words are gentle. The tone of his voice controlled. "You were shaking last night when I wanted to kiss you."

I hold my breath for a second. "I've never been with anyone like you."

"Anyone like me?" he asks as he leans closer to me now.