fifteen
What in the actualfuck?
I’m trying to focus on the movie Daisy picked for us tonight, but I can’t stop replaying our conversation earlier.
She didn’t love him.
They never had sex.
Not that it would have mattered to me, since Daisy is a grown woman and should be worshipped every second of every day. But knowing that she’s been deprived of pleasure for all her life makes me want to throw my fist through a wall.
The fact that I haven’t touched anyone since I first laid eyes on her makes it feel like some cruel joke from the universe that has already done a number on me.
Had I known the details of their relationship or her lack of satisfaction, maybe I could have helped her talk through her feelings. She might have come to a conclusion about that doomed relationship sooner.
Or maybe I’d have been too blinded by the possibility of being the first man to make her come and gone insane—
“Do you think any less of me now that you know the truth?” She interrupts my thoughts. My response is delayed since I’m slightly distracted by her long curly hair. She took a lengthy shower after dinner and came out with her hair in a wet bun. Throughout the night, she’s unraveled it bit by bit, and now she’s shaking the curls out, creating a stunning halo around her delicate face.
And the fact that she’s wearing my hoodie again, even though I bought her more than enough clothes to wear, isn’t helping my concentration.
“What? Of course not.”
“Most people would assume I’m a brainless bot, following some weird Stepford wife handbook.”
“Well, I’ve never been accused of acting like most people. And I take that as a compliment.”
She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. I feel so dumb, especially since I was well aware that my brother and my friends could see that I wasn’t happy. No matter how hard I tried to put on a happy face. Everyone knew, and I beat that dead horse until I couldn’t. Until I ran. Like a coward.”
I slam my glass of water on the coffee table a little harder than intended. “Yeah, you’re going to have to do me a favor and stop talking about yourself like that. Otherwise I’m gonna have to do something about it.”
She lifts a questioning brow. “Oh yeah? Like what? Force me to recite words of affirmation to myself in the mirror?”
I bite my tongue. Because none of the thoughts that ran through my mind were close to being appropriate.
Her eyes narrow as she scoffs. “There it is again.” She stands, but I manage to pull her back down by the back of my hoodie.
But instead of the couch, she ends up landing on my spread open legs. Any higher on my lap and she’d have felt my dick twitch at her proximity.
She gasps as she repeatedly looks at my face and where she’s fallen to. “I’m on your lap.”
“Great observation skills.”
“I-I should move. Um, right?”
I shrug. “You’ve got legs. Use them if you want. Or don’t,” I challenge. “Now what were you going off about before you almost stomped out the room?”
She crosses her arms, eyes drifting down once more before she meets mine, staying put. “I wasn’t stomping.”
I almost smile. She’s being defiant. Stubborn. All the things she’s never allowed herself to be.
“Why are you smiling like a weirdo?”
Whoops.
“I like seeing this side of you, that’s all. Now tell me what’s got your panties in a bunch.”
“You can’t say stuff like that when you’ve actually bought all my panties. I’m sure there’s a rule somewhere about that,” she mumbles.
