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I couldn't read the look in his eyes. Was that pity? Or sadness? Both? It was hard to tell. I just knew that I didn't like it.
"Did someone make you feel like you weren't beautiful?" His deep voice was soft, almost soothing—like the one used when approaching a skittish horse. Reassuring and peaceful. But underneath the calm surface lay a storm that was brewing. There was an edge to his tone that anyone would have missed. But I didn't because somehow, I felt it.
I couldn't tell him. Even if he couldn't see it now, he would really see it if I told him, and realize that calling me beautiful was a mistake. I wasn't beautiful. I was…plain. Basic. Unflattering.
So, I shook my head and tried to plaster a smile on my face, though judging from his expression, I probably looked constipated. "Of course not. It's just that…"
"Don't stop," he urged. "That what?"
"Beautiful is not a word I'd use to describe myself."
A brow raised. "Yeah? Tell me then. What word best describes you?"
I bit my lower lip, racking my brain. "Talented, I think."
"That’s categorized under personality. I'm talking physically."
He caught me there. "Fine. Plain, then."
"Plain?" he asked incredulously, and I heard it then. The little slip of an English accent that was almost negligible. I'd thought I had heard it before, but I couldn't be sure. It was well masked, but I was nothing if not meticulous.
"You're the farthest thing from plain, Felicity,” he said.
"Are you trying to sleep with me?"
An awkward silence ensued as we stared at each other. I could tell it was the last thing he'd expected me to say. Even I was surprised at the question. But this was exactly how it had begun: compliments, attention, saying the right things. And when I'd dropped everything, including my guard, it turned ugly.
I was not about to go through that again. Besides, this was the longest conversation I'd had with Aaron. And while it wasn’t as terrible as I'd expected, I would not deny that he was a bit disconcerting with his intense gaze and odd compliments. The last thing I wanted was to get close to someone again.
All of a sudden, Aaron laughed. He threw his head back and let out a bark of laughter that resonated through his office. Confused, I sat there and watched him, wondering if I'd unknowingly cracked a joke and somehow missed it.
"You're funny," he choked, dramatically wiping his eyes. "No, seriously, you are."
I blinked. "That…wasn't a joke."
Then he paused his movements and narrowed his eyes to me. "It wasn't?"
I shook my head slowly, feeling like a schoolgirl being scolded at the principal's office.
"Jesus," he breathed. "What the fuck am I supposed to say to that? No? You're a beautiful woman, and I'm a man with blood running in my fucking veins. Why wouldn't I want to…sleep with you?"
Oh my. I sucked in a breath at the candid admission, my pounding heart loud enough that I could hear it from my ears. Aaron didn't strike me as a liar, but it was at the tip of my now-tied tongue that I asked him why. Why would he want to sleep with me? I resisted the urge to look down on myself. Disgust filled me like black ink, crawling up my skin. My arms. My legs. My stomach.
"Felicity."
The sharp voice snapped me out of it. I met Aaron's gaze, blinking through the haze.
"Where did you go?" he asked, concern etched unto the features of his handsome face.
"Nowhere," I said. "Nothing." Two fingers reached up to push my glasses up my nose as my legs stood. I gathered my sketchbook and pencils and cleared my throat before meeting his questioning gaze. "I think I'll continue my work at my desk. Thank you for letting me work here."
"It's past working hours. We're probably the only two people in the entire building. Just stay here, and I promise not to say another word." His eyes seemed sincere, and if I didn't enjoy working at his desk so much because it was damned more comfortable than mine, I would've turned around and walked away.
Exhaling, I lowered down to the seat again and opened my sketchbook, avoiding Aaron's gaze. "Thanks," I muttered, picking up a pencil and returning to sketching.
I knew what was happening. I was running. Something I was very good at, by the way. It was why I avoided any interaction with my father if I could help it. It was also the reason men were a no-go. At least, physical men. I had no problems hiding behind a screen and sticking a sex toy inside me at the behest of a man I met online—who might or might not be a serial killer, though he didn't seem like it, but then again, you could never really tell—even if I blushed throughout the entire thing.
Even if hours later, my cheeks were still on fire and my body tingling from the recollection of how hard I'd come.
