“Boys my age are so immature. I feel like they’re little kids sometimes, with the way they act, with how cruel they can be. But with you, Ryker, you’re so experienced, so mature, so manly. You’re nothing like the punks in my high school.”
His eyes shine as he leans close, kissing my cheek with that surprising softness of his. “I’m so glad to hear you say that. So, about this date…”
A tingle slides up my spine, my body struggling to keep up with the emotional whiplash. One second I thought he was going to throw me out of here – calling me a cock tease or something equally horrible for not giving him what he wants – and now we’re talking about dates.
I don’t even know what to say. All I can do is smile like the world’s biggest idiot.
“Let me take you to dinner,” he says. “Or hell, let me take you to lunch right now. Let’s just be together, Rosie.”
“I want it all,” I whisper. “But I’ve got work right after this session.”
He nods. “Where do you work?”
“I’m a part-time cleaner at a college campus.”
His hands go tight on my body.
“What?” I ask.
He bares his teeth in a wolfish grin. “What?”
“It’s just the way you looked at me right then like you don’t like my job or something.”
“I don’t like it,” he growls. “I remember how passionate you were when you talked about painting. I know you haven’t shown anyone your work, but you can’t tell me you haven’t dreamed of what it would be like to make it your career.”
“Well, yeah. Obviously, I’d like that. But that doesn’t mean I can just quit my job. Josephine and Paul, they’d let me stay at the house rent free, but I don’t want to glide through life on a free meal ticket, you know?”
“Yeah, I get that. That’s why I started my own business. But you wouldn’t be gliding through life. You’d be making a living doing what you love.”
I laugh, place my hands on his chest and stare up at him. His pecs tense under my touch, solid and brimming with security, as though through touch alone he can tell me he’ll never let anything happen to me.
“You haven’t even seen my art yet. What if I’m completely terrible?”
“You’re not,” he says with conviction. “I know you’re not.”
“How?”
He moves closer, pressing against the small of my back so there’s no space between us at all. His lips against my forehead, his breath whispering soothingly across my skin. “Because you’re you, Rosie. That’s how I know. What time do you finish work later?”
“Six-thirty,” I tell him.
“Okay then. Give me the address. I’ll pick you up.”
“What should I wear?” I ask.
“Is that a yes?” He kisses my forehead again, prompting a whole collection of sensations to race across my skin. “Because it sounded like a yes.”
“Yes, it’s a freaking yes,” I say. “I can’t even believe this is happening. But if it’s really not a dream, then it’s a yes.”
“Then don’t worry about what you’re going to wear,” he says with a glint in his eyes. “I’ll arrange it for you. Just give me your dress size and shoe size.”
A stiff chord of apprehension fires through me, causing my insides to tighten, making me want to scream. Angry that my size causes this reaction.
Taking a step back, I let my gaze fall. “Really? My size?”
“What’s the problem?” he asks, head tilted, eyes aimed at me like he’d wait a thousand years for the answer to my question.
“I just don’t normally like to talk about my weight.” I avert my gaze so he can’t see the shame burning in my eyes, scorching my cheeks. “Because, you know…”
“You’re beautiful,” he snaps. Closing the distance between us he grabs my face, forcing my eyes back to his. “Do you hear me, Rosie? You. Are. Beautiful. Your body is perfect. So damn curvy. It drives me insane, your curves, that round ass, those gorgeous tits. And your full face.”
He chuckles with an unhinged note nestled within the noise. “It’s actually difficult to maintain any semblance of self-control around you, your body is so perfect. So please don’t put yourself down.”
“But how can that be?” My words come out with more force than I intended. “You’ve spent your whole career helping people to look pretty much the opposite of how I look. So how can you say you like my body?”
He frowns, his features becoming grave.
“Because you’re you,” he growls. “That’s how.”
I shake my head firmly.
What kind of answer is that?
Chapter Thirteen
Ryker
“Why are you shaking your head at me?” I snarl.
My whole body is being consumed by flames, licking and spitting and hissing at every part of me, as my seed commands me to tell her the full extent of my need.
When she told me she was a virgin, I almost blurted it all out right then.