“No? Why not?”
He stands, and I realize just how tall he really is. He towers above me. He has to be well over six-feet tall and somewhere in his 30s. I don’t feel like I have anything close to a daddy fetish or anything like that, but it’s impossible to deny his sexuality. He’s absolutely dripping with dominance.
“Why…are you not going to propose to me?” The question is so absurd I can’t believe I’m asking it. “Why would you?”
“No one’s ever proposed to you before….?”
There’s a pause, and I realize he’s waiting for my name. But I’m not so sure I want to give it to him.
“Either you tell me, or I find out another way,” he says. “Come on. Make it easy on both of us.”
“Ella,” I reply.
“Shit.” He shakes his head and almost smiles. The show of emotion actually surprises me.
“What?”
“It’s a cute name,” he replies. “Rolls off my tongue a little too easy.”
“Too easy?” I ask, but there’s no time. He reaches out and gently strokes my cheek with the back of his hand. I know I should pull away or stop him or say something, but my brain just doesn’t seem to work. It’s like an electrical zap has temporarily fried my circuits or something, and all I can do is stand there and take it.
“Ella…” he muses. “Yeah, I can hear myself saying that every goddamn morning, beautiful.”
I swallow as he stares at me. The power of his eyes is undeniable, and I can only imagine what kind of a monster he must be to those men who choose to cross him. It doesn’t feel real, standing before him as he drinks me in with his eyes.
“You wouldn’t want to marry me,” I tell him. “After all the women you must have had…I’d totally disappoint you.”
“Disappoint me?” He almost laughs as he eyes me up and down again. “I think you underestimate yourself…”
His voice trails off, and although his face is stony and unmoving, I see a glimmer of understanding in his eyes.
Shit.
“You’re a virgin…”
My cheeks flush. At first, I feel like I’m simply embarrassed for the sake of it, but then I realize that I’m embarrassed because I don’t want to disappoint him. He’s doing nothing to hide his desire for me, and here I am trying to beat mine back. But why? My body is making it very clear; I want him.
But I don’t even know him. What’s worse, I should be terrified of him. This is a man who forged an empire out of the blood of his enemies, and he’s turning me on? I must be going insane. But I guess it feels pretty good being crazy.
“I—I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be stupid,” he growls, moving right in on me. “You think that turns me off, gorgeous? No. That turns me on. I want to be the first and only man to claim that fresh, untouched pussy. Tell me, baby. I heard the announcer say something about high school. You’re not going to break my heart by being underage, are you?”
My blush grows so hot it’s almost painful. I shake my head. “No! I’m eighteen. I graduated already. That was just my high school team doing that performance.”
He breathes a visible sigh of relief, then ever so gently reaches out and strokes a wisp of my hair and hooks it behind my ear.
“Barely legal…” he mutters, as though contemplating his next move. “You’ve got me so turned on, gorgeous. I could take you right here and now. I could pull you into one of these rooms, have that Lakers skirt up around those hips of yours, and show you what you’ve been missing.”
“I…”
“And I can see in your eyes that you want it,” he growls, seemingly growing larger as he steps closer. “I bet that teenage pussy of yours is already wet for me.”
He’s right.
Jesus, I hadn’t even noticed. As I shift my thighs, I can feel the damp. I’m more than aroused for this man, this dangerous stranger that I only just met. It doesn’t make sense. If I explained this to any of the girls on the team, they’d think I was crazy.
Or would they?