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I push her back inside and pull the door shut behind me.
She leans up against the sink, eyes wide, breathing fast. “What are you doing?”
“I behaved all night. You didn’t really expect me to keep that up forever, did you?” I push the door lock in with a loud click and advance on her.
“Carmine.”
“You haven’t heard my pitch yet. The reason why you should marry me.”
“I think I have. Please, not here. Can we just—”
“No, you think you heard me, but you haven’t really been listening. You’re too busy thinking about your nice and cozy apartment, your lovely and soft blankets, your Netflix account, your average little problems at work. You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”
“Carmine—”
“Listen.” I stop right in front of her. I loom over her. Even in her heels, Brice only comes up to my throat. I tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet my eyes. “Have you ever been fucked in a bathroom before? Have you ever wanted someone so badly, so desperately, that you couldn’t wait?”
Her face pales. “Carmine. We’re not doing that right now.”
“No, we aren’t. But your reaction tells me you’ve never once felt that in your life. You’ve never come close, have you? I bet you’re still a virgin.”
She opens her mouth to deny it, but shuts it again.
My body thrums with electricity.Virgin. God, I guessed, but I didn’t really think—
How could this girl be a virgin?
But no, it makes sense, of course she’s untouched and so damn pure.
Her whole world is predicated on purity, and it tracks that she’d keep her body to herself.
She has no clue what it feels like to truly crave.
And to be craved.
How intoxicating it can be to feel wanted and filthy and beautiful and depraved all at once.
My lips brush against her cheek. She trembles and lets out a soft whimper. It’s the most incredible sound I’ve ever heard in my life.
“If you were my wife, I’dneverlet you forget a thing.”
“You’re so very full of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me, right here and now, that you’re not practically shaking with anticipation.”
“I’m not.”
“Do you want me to go? Say the word. Go ahead.”
Her jaw works. She says nothing.
A thrill runs down my spine as my right hand slips up the nape of her neck, along the soft skin, over the small, downy hairs at the base of her skull, until I twist my fingers into her perfect little bun and tighten.
She gasps in surprise.
And I kiss her.
At first, it’s like kissing a corpse. She’s cold and motionless and stiff, and I wonder if she’s about to stop this, about to break this perfect, intense moment.
