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She holds my gaze boldly, either too innocent or too fearless to know the monster that lurks just beneath the surface and urges me to claim her in the most primal fashion.
I let out a breath that sounds shaky to my own ears as I force myself to pull back from her and move her off my lap to sit her on the couch next to me.
I need to add some space between us for what I need to tell her.
* * *
Daisy
“I don’t want to kiss you goodnight, Daisy,” Nick tells me, his voice sounding gruff.
I feel the embarrassment rising up within me. I know I’m no experienced kisser, but the confirmation that I’m horrible at it is humiliating.
The face that I’d passed out right after it is humiliating.
I want to crawl into a hole and die.
But then I straighten my shoulders.
I quickly let my indignation take over my embarrassment. I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t ask for him to make me have dinner with him, and I certainly didn’t ask for him to kiss me. On the contrary, I’d fought him every step of the way and this right here is why. I know his type. Rich, spoiled, entitled, and way too sophisticated for a simple little girl like me. If he’s disappointed, then it’s his own damn fault. I will not let him make me feel stupid for something that I wanted no part of.
“I didn’t ask you too,” I retort, my response not quite having the venom that I intend. To my mortification, my voice comes out shaky, betraying some of the hurt at the thought that I’m such a disappointment to a man like him. And why wouldn’t I be? He’s cultured and refined, and I’m just a nobody from the sticks.
I start to stand, but he grabs my wrist in a firm grip and then turns my head to face him with a hand on my chin. “I don’t want to kiss you goodnight because it means this night is over,” he tells me gently, looking into my eyes like he can see to those deepest parts of myself no one has ever seen.
“Oh,” I say, not knowing what else to say.
He cracks a wry smile. “Plus, I’m afraid you’ll go into a coma next time I kiss you.”
My cheeks heat, and I pull away from him, standing and making my way over to the door. I’m leaving. I can walk back home.
He jumps up and laughs as he keeps stride with me. “Where are you going, kitten? I was just playing with you.” He reaches out to grab my hand, but I yank it back from him.
I can’t helping scoffing at him, “How do I know you didn’t just put something in my drink to knock me out like that?”
I instantly know I’ve gone too far when his face darkens, his jaw line hardening. “You think I would drug you?” he asks me, his voice carefully controlled as he towers over me.
“I don’t know,” I lie, shrugging nonchalantly to try to hide my nervousness. “I don’t really know you. And you did blackmail me into this dinner with you.” True, I don’t know him, but somehow I just know he wouldn’t ever do something like that. Maybe I shouldn’t have even insinuated it, but I hate being teased. The man pushes all my buttons and brings out my claws.
His nostrils seem to flare, and I have to fight my instinct to flinch away from him.
“I may not always play fair,” he says, his voice low with his barely contained fury, “but let me make one thing very clear. I would never drug a woman or take advantage of her.”
I swallow at the intensity of his gaze and nod, licking my lips nervously. “I believe you,” I tell him.
That seems to calm him somewhat because his jaw loosens slightly.
There’s a moment of silence during which he just stares at me in that intense way of his. I can’t sit still when he does it. I hate myself for it, but I fidget under his gaze like a shy schoolgirl, turning my feet in toward one another in a nervous habit.
I finally decide I have to break the silence since it’s obvious he’s not going to be the one to do it. “Thank you for the lovely meal,” I tell him sincerely, “but I really should be getting home now.”
He frowns down at me. “Is there no way I can convince you to stay longer?” he asks, taking a step closer to me.
I shake my head. “I really need to go.”
He studies me a moment before he sighs and then moves to grab his car keys from the bowl he’d thrown them in when we first walked into his home.
“I can walk home,” I protest. “There’s really no need for you—“
