Eilidh
We makeit back into the Audi without a public indecency charge—nertz—and he drives me home.
Yes, he walks with me up to my apartment. Then he stands there, hands in his pockets, as I unlock the door and step through.
I put my purse down and stand inside the door, just out of reach.
He waits.
Not that he has a choice.
“Can we please hold off on the whole buying me a house thing? Let me get used to having a boyfriend first. Okay?”
He smiles, looking incredibly smug and pleased with himself. “You want me to be your boyfriend?”
“Yeah. I’d like to try that label on for a while. If you’re okay with that? I’m not looking for a sugar…vampy.”
He slides his hands from his pockets, bracing them on the door jamb and those sexy as fuck fingers curling around it—Did I mention he’s six-three?—leaning in as far as he can. I literally see the way an invisible force presses back, a resistance, against his forehead and hair.
“Please be my girlfriend, Eilidh,” he whispers. “Please, bemine.”
I smile, stepping back, out of the way. “Come on in and let’s talk about it, big guy.”
I wish I could describe the look of shock on his face as he falls into my apartment and hits the floor, landing on my soft, fluffy pink faux fur area rug that I picked up at a yard sale for five dollars.
Laughing, I hold out a hand to help him up, but he kicks my door shut and pulls me down on top of him, where I sit up, straddling him.
Ooooh, yeah. Dude’s getting riddenhardthe first time we do it.
Or, would that be ridden soft?
He’s getting rode—ridden?—until he can’t get it up again, andthat’sthe important thing.
“Iwillwin you over, sweetheart.” He cups my hands in his and kisses them, then presses them against his chest. “As long as it takes. I’m patient and persistent. But once you’re mine? You’remine. I willneverlet anything happen to you. I’ll protect you and keep you happy, whatever you need from me.”
“Doesn’t sound very sadistic and domly,” I tease.
He smiles. “Maybe I’m a sensual sadist.” His eyes widen. “A Daddy Dom!” I’m reminded of my talk with Amber, and I guess that translates to my face because he quickly adds, “But you can call me Sir or Master, not Daddy. We won’t do that.”
“Thank fates.”
“Provided I don’t scare you off by then.” I can tell he’s joking because of the sexy smile he’s wearing, but I spot the fear in his eyes.
Fear I feel, too.
Kind of makes me feel better to know he’s just as scared as I am. That this guy who can live forever and easily kill me if he wanted to—and who just gave me the best orgasm I’ve ever had—is worried that he might not be able to win me over.
“Haven’t scared me off yet, buddy.”
Chuckling, he pulls me in for a hug, rolling us to our sides so my head’s cradled on his arm. If you’d told me a week ago I’d be canoodling with a hunky, fanged DILFy dude who can be on the receiving end of theOkay, Boomergame with Jesus freaking Christ, I’d have called you nuts.
Seriously.
Now?
I have to say, I think maybe I could get used to this.
That’s when it hits me…
