I smirked. “Frankie, huh? That short for Francesca?”
She nodded, smoothing her hands over her skirt.
“A nice name for an angel,” I mused. The way her face reddened, that gorgeous blush spreading all the way down to the swell of her breasts, made me have to adjust my seat.
My hardening cock would be satisfied soon enough. I just had to wait until we got her home.
Although the idea of taking her virginity in a limo was thrilling to some primal part of me, too.
“I’m, uh, twenty-one,” Frankie spoke up after another minute. We’d both almost forgotten the question.
Christ, she was so young. I didn’t like how quickly the math of our fifteen-year age gap sprung to mind. Hell, Alex and Jon were even older than me.
Seventeen years, and a full twenty-one older than her. Hell, Jonathan could be this girl’s father. Some long-buried protective instinct threatened to rear its head, but I shoved it way.
“And how does a girl like you end up still a virgin at twenty-one?” I asked her, relishing the shock on her face in response.
“A…a girl like me?” she repeated.
“Beautiful,” I clarified, and I couldn’t help but smile at the return of her shy blush.Tempting as hell. Damn-near perfect.“There weren’t any guys you wanted when you were in school?”
She shook her head, swallowed hard. “I’m, uh…pretty shy. It comes with the territory of being…bookish.”
“Bookish?”
“I, uh, read a lot,” she explained, seeming embarrassed when I smiled in a way that said,Yeah, that was implied.“I just…books have always been more my speed than real people. Especially with guys. I’m better with the fictional kind.”
Somehow, I could see it for her. Through all of the glitz and glamor, she had the little library mouse energy a lot of girls in my youth had had before I’d gotten to them, shown them that the bad boys do it better. I could picture her wearing some cute little glasses on the edge of her nose. See her face screwed up in concentration as she curled up in a comfy chair with a book in her hands.
And fuck if that mental image didn’t add to her appeal somehow. I’d always liked to spoil the good girls for anyone but me.
But even the good girls I’d taken to bed as a teenager in foster care had more of an edge than Frankie.
She’d be the sweetest conquest, and though I didn’t usually go for vulnerable young things, I wasn’t above taking the boons I’d been presented with. Growing up on the streets, in and out of shitty foster homes, I’d learned to be opportunistic.
“No one worthy’s ever tried to pick you up in a bar?” I asked, though I had no doubt this girl didn’t put herself into those kinds of situations in the first place. Her answer confirmed it.
“I’ve never really been to a bar,” she admitted then winced.
Oh, the sweetness of her. Like honey and spun sugar and the melted chocolate of her eyes, her dark hair, all in one. I licked my lips, anticipating, and I’d be damned if she didn’t lick her own lips in response. Just as needy as I was. I’d be willing to bet another three mil on it.
She was watching me the way she’d been on that stage back at the auction.
She was innocent enough that she didn’t realize how easily any man who paid attention could see the lust in her gaze. I saw her eyes rake over my face, my neck, the close cut of my buzzed head.
I watched, too, as she let her gaze trail over my shoulders, my arms. I put in a lot of work for my physique, hours at the gym every week, and I wasn’t about to turn down an opportunity for her to appreciate it.
Especially when I let myself look at her, too, and I saw the distinct pinpricks of her hard nipples through the silky fabric she wore like a second skin.
“Bars are overrated anyway,” I told her. “But for what it’s worth, you’d do well in one. Walk away with a dozen guys drooling after you, wishing they could take you to bed.”
She didn’t say anything. I watched her full lips press together, narrowing a little, and another question sprang to mind then to my lips in seconds. “Have you ever even been kissed?”
Frankie’s eyes jumped to mine, lightning-fast. “Yes,” she huffed, indignation apparent in the sharpness of it. She softened, wincing as she added, “but it’s been a while.”
Her tone was miserable enough that I knew it hadn’t been the kind of kiss she’d read about in her books.
Christ, had this girl ever gotten to experience the kind of pleasure her body deserved?
