"There's only one reason he'd do that."
"Why?"
"Because he's a coward." His voice is stone cold serious. "A real man would never abandon his family."
"Yeah," I say. "You're probably right."
"But you know, they're not the only ones who matter," he continues. "The family we're born into is important, sure, but they're not all we have. They're not all we are. A part of life is making your own family. That's the beauty of it all."
I smile softly. "Do you have a big family?"
"I do," he says, "but most of us aren't blood related."
There's something refreshing about the way he thinks, the way he looks at the world. He doesn't just accept the hand he's dealt.
After a moment, he motions toward my glass. "Drink up."
I slouch back in my chair, sipping my champagne. "Yep, you're definitely trying to get me drunk."
"I am," he admits, leaning over the table, closer to me. "How else am I going to get you to come home with me?"
Those words send tingles down my spine. I'm not sure if it's excitement or apprehension. "You could just ask."
He stares at me, eyes surveying my face as his expression falls serious, his voice dropping low. "Come home with me, Karissa."
My breath hitches. "That's not a question."
"Doesn't matter," he says. "Come home with me, anyway."
I go home with him.
Everything tells me not to, down to common sense. Even Naz's earlier words about not trusting people should've turned me away.
But still, I go home with him.
What can I say?
The warnings are a shout in the wind, swallowed up in the atmosphere. He's compelling and chivalrous, gorgeous and generous, and I'm intoxicated and in desperate need of something... something that he stirs up, something strong, and primal. He awakens the animal inside of me.
But it's nothing compared to what I see in his eyes. He turns to me as soon as we're alone in his house. The air is heavy, and his eyes are dark, the blue like midnight in the dim lighting. It's like seeing him for the first time all over again, but being greeted by an entirely different creature.
He's a beast. A monster.
And he looks like he wants to devour me.
He steps toward me. His voice is low and husky. "Have you ever been with a man, Karissa?"
My heart hammers hard in my chest as I nod. "I've had sex before."
"That's not what I asked," he says, pausing right in front of me, the tip of his shoes touching mine as he stares down at me. "I don't care about those boys who might've fumbled around between your legs a time or two. I want to know if you've been with a man."
I hesitate before slowly shaking my head. If he is a man, if this is what being with a man is like, I've never been with one. I've messed around with boys at parties, even had a boyfriend for a while back in Watertown that took my virginity in the backseat of a rusty Chevrolet. But whatever is happening right now between us is something I've never felt before.
It's electricity.
He cups my chin with his hand, tilting my face so I have no choice but to look him in the eyes. His thumb sweeps along my bottom lip, and I let out a shuddering breath as he leans closer, tilting his head like he's going to kiss me, but he pauses there instead. His gaze burns through me, seeping down into my soul, seizing me like a prisoner.
I'm a willing captive.
"You don't have to be afraid," he says. "I'm not going to hurt you."
He kisses me then. His lips are soft—so, so soft, like velvet, a stark contrast to the roughness of the rest of him. His kiss is gentle, little more than breaths against my lips that I eagerly inhale, taking him in. I let out a soft moan, hardly catching it as he whispers, "unless you want me to."
A hint of a smile takes over his face when he pulls away. I should be alarmed. I should head right back out that front door and run far, far away, but I can't. I can do nothing but stand there and shiver as he lets go of me, taking a step back. He regards me for a moment, eyes sweeping down my body, as his smile grows.
He's a child with a brand new toy, and I just hope he doesn't break me as soon as I'm out of the package.
He's on me then, his hands seeking me out as his lips once more meet mine. None of the gentleness from a moment ago is in his touch. He seizes me, pulling me into his grasp, taking my breath away with his hard kiss. I gasp as he lifts me up, hands gripping my hips. I cling to him, wrapping my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck, holding on for dear life.
He's strong—Jesus, he's stronger than I expected, holding me like I'm weightless as he carries me upstairs to his bedroom. As soon as we're inside, he kicks the door shut and hauls me over to the bed, his lips still on mine.
He lays me back on the crisp white sheets, him on top, his weight pressing down on me, constricting my chest. My lungs burn, the butterflies in my stomach flapping wildly, ready to take flight.
A strange thrill soars through me when he moves from my mouth, his lips trailing down my jaw line, finding my neck. He kisses and licks, his teeth grazing the skin, as his hands hike up my dress, shoving it to my waist.
I barely have time to think, to agonize over the fact that I'm pretty sure I'm wearing plain white cotton panties that are probably not sexy at all, when his hand slips beneath the flimsy fabric, fingertips grazing my clit. My back arches involuntarily as a gasp escapes my throat, the jolt of pleasure tearing through my insides, the first lightning strike of an oncoming storm.
I'm caught in a whirlwind. There's no other way to describe it, no way to explain it, except that I've been swept up so fast that I can no longer even see the ground. His hands are all over me, tearing off clothes, as his lips seek out every stitch of exposed skin.
The dress is yanked off and flung across the room, barely hitting the floor before he's leaving a searing trail of kisses down my stomach. Slipping his hands beneath me, he makes speedy work of my bra, tearing it off.
He grasps the sides of my panties, and I lift up instinctively when he tugs them down. My knees find one another, drawn together like magnets, as my hands cover my breasts, timidly shielding my naked body from his view as he sits back. He regards me warily, seeming to hesitate for a fraction of a second when he sees how I'm laying there, but it doesn't deter him from pulling his shirt off. His hands make work of his pants, unbuckling the belt and unzipping them, the sound seeming to echo through the quiet room.
It makes my heart race faster than before, so frenzied my vision blurs when he pulls them off along with his boxers, leaving him just as naked as I am.