“And let me guess, I have to answer or you’ll threaten me with something worse, and if I keep fighting, the threat will escalate until you take it too far.”
I can’t help the smile that pulls my lips. “I knew you were a fast learner.”
She stares at me for a beat, two, three and doesn’t break eye contact.
Ah. I see.
That’s what attracted me to her the first time. The way she held my gaze when many find it impossible to stare at me for long—my brother and mother included.
Whether they’re uncomfortable or intimidated by me, I don’t know.
Jeremy once said I have a look that makes people uncomfortable in their own skin, so it’s a given that they’d choose to stay away.
Not Glyndon.
Not once has she looked away from my eyes. As if she needs to see me at all times.
I don’t even need to see me at all times.
My being is a condensation of atoms and molecules, a homogenous, perfect combination of my parents’ genes that formed a human being who’s unable to relate to humanity.
So the fact that she’s interested in seeing this entity—even out of fear—is another rare occurrence.
The accumulation of all these arbitrary, divergent traits in one person should be frowned upon.
With another sigh, definitely resigned this time, she lets her quiet voice fill the car, “I haven’t found anyone I want to have sex with.”
“Why not? Surely you’ve had some attention.”
“I just haven’t felt like it. Do you have any other questions, Your Majesty?”
“Not for now, no. I’ll let you know when I do.”
She narrows her eyes. “Really? You won’t say anything about the topic?”
“Like how I’ll eventually fuck you? I’m happy to talk about it, but I don’t think you’re ready for that conversation.”
“I’ll never let you.”
“Never say never, baby.”
“I liked it better when you were demanding answers.”
I reach for her thigh. “Want me to ask more questions when I’m on top of you this time?”
“No! I’m just saying.” She absentmindedly tucks a strand behind her ear. A blonde one, because of fucking course, this bundle of weird composition has blonde strands in her honey-colored hair.
She peeks at me from beneath her lashes. “Can we go back? I have class early tomorrow.”
“Not yet. You haven’t seen what we’re here for.”
Her pupils dilate the slightest bit, but she remains composed.
Hmm.
It must be her upbringing. Someone taught her not to back down, even when scared. To keep her spine straight and her gaze ahead.
To be the definition of her last name.