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“Okay,” I get up on shaky legs and go to do as he says, feeling the heat of his gaze on my back as I do so.
* * *
Damon
She’s so fucking gorgeous it hurts. I inwardly curse myself when she comes out of her bedroom wearing a pair of tiny gray sleep shorts and a pink tank top. I can see the straps of the gray sports bra peeking out from under the straps of the tank top, and I know she’s wearing a pair of the cotton panties I picked out for her. The pack I’d picked up for her was simple, but the fuckers had cute little designs printed on them of cherries, strawberries, and other fucking fruit, as if to entice a man to taste the sweetness between her legs.
I’d tried to buy the least sexy shit in the store without being too obvious about it. I certainly couldn’t have brought home a bag full of the lacy, silky lingerie I’d been tempted to buy for her. There’s no way I’d have been able to resist ripping that kind of stuff off her, but I’m beginning to think I could drape her in a burlap sack and she’d still be sex on legs.
And how the hell that is even possible when I’d bet my right hand she’s never had sex before is beyond me. I don’t know what it is about her, the innocence in her eyes, the ways she blushes too easily, but I’d be willing to bet she’s still got that little cherry between her legs.
The thought pleases me immensely and causes a wave of lust to crash through me. I don’t want to imagine another fucker ever touching her. Nobody else deserves her. Hell, I don’t deserve her. She’s a goddess too good for this world, too good for the likes of me.
That doesn’t stop my body’s reaction to her.
My cock twitches, but I fight to keep it from making an obscene tent in my pants. Down boy.
“What do you think about pizza?” I ask her.
She smiles a wide, girlish smile. “With pepperoni?”
I grin back at her, glad to have pleased her. “You got it.”
I pick up my phone to place the order while she sits on the couch and pulls her feet up underneath her, crosslegged.
“It won’t be long,” I tell her when I hang up the phone. “Tony’s is located right next to the shop, and it’s only about a five-minute drive from here.”
“So you’re a mechanic?” she asks me.
I shrug. “I work on cars, yeah.”
“How long have you done that?” she asks curiously.
“About six months,” I answer her honestly.
She looks surprised. “Oh, what did you do before then?”
I pause, looking into her innocent blue eyes. She has no idea what she’s just asked me, and I consider dodging the question, but my conscience gets the better of me. She has a right to know the kind of man she’s living with. “I was in prison,” I admit, my voice coming out more gruffly than I intend.
I’m halfway expecting her to back away from me in fear or to just get up and leave, but she just looks at me. She doesn’t even blink.
“Oh,” she finally says, “I’m sorry.”
My brow furrows, not sure I’ve heard her right. “What? What are you sorry for?”
She’s regarding me frankly. “I didn’t mean to pry. I’m sorry if I asked you something that you didn’t want to talk about.”
I bark out an incredulous laugh and run my thumb along my jawline. “I admit to being a felon, and you’re the one who’s sorry. Sweetheart, I should be the one apologizing to you.”
Now her little brow furrows, and her lips purse adorably. “What for?”
“I let you move in here without telling you what kind of man I am upfront.”
When she doesn’t say anything, I frown and add, “A criminal.”
“You won’t hurt me,” she whispers, “so it doesn’t matter.”
“How do you know that?” my voice is low. She’s right. I’d rather cut off my own hand than hurt her, but I’m half pissed at her for blindly trusting someone like me without knowing all the facts.
