She's Too Young (She's Too Young #1)(8)By: Jessa Kane
If she thinks I look better in the light, someone should get her a mirror, because I’m completely fucking mesmerized. There are little green pinpricks in her giant, blue eyes. Her mouth is straight off a cherub, right along with her smooth, lightly flushed complexion. Don’t get me started on the taut, inviting lines of her body, because there’s not enough time in the world to list their perfections.
However, it’s in that moment I decide to take things somewhat slowly. She’s already got suspicions—and they’re correct. I’m a man who became consumed by her on sight. I’ve bought her, moved her into my house. There’s no way around that fact. But I can make sure she doesn’t feel pressure to give me any part of herself. I can give her time to trust me, even though I’ll probably die several small deaths in the process.
“I’m up to no good, am I?” I step back and gesture toward the staircase, which sweeps upward from the living room. “What makes you think so?”
When Veda precedes me up the stairs with an eye roll, I don’t even make an attempt to look away from the side-to-side snap of her hips, the lily-white panties that peek out when her skirt flaps back with each step. “You sent my father to the Netherlands and now I’m here.” She pauses mid-step and turns, one foot on a higher step than the other, giving me a decadent view of her cotton-covered pussy. “Would you have done that if we hadn’t met on the roof and…kissed?”
Watching the flush creep up her neck, I run my tongue along the inside of my lower lip. “You’re letting me look up your skirt right now and you have the nerve to turn pink?”
Her hips sway a little, a smirk plumping her lips, but I can see the gravity in her eyes. She might be playing the flirt, but she’s only doing it to distract me. “You didn’t answer my question,” she says.
I can’t be honest with her. Not completely. Not until she has a chance to know me. Yes, I’ve gone to extremes to get her here. Yes, I’m a bad man. But I’m determined to be a good one for Veda.
“Your father was due a promotion and he was in debt. Did meeting you on the roof cause me to look into the situation?” I take her knee and ease her thighs closed, because one more second of looking at heaven and I will attempt to fuck her into a screaming fit on the stairs. “Yes. I wanted to know more about you, and in turn, your father. When I saw the dire straits he was in, I had to move quickly.”
She scrutinizes me for long moments, before continuing up the stairs, her fingers trailing slowly up the railing. The way I’d like them to do on my belly. “Which room is mine?”
“Last door on the right,” I answer, moving even with her as we walk down the hallway, her slip-on sneakers squeaking on the white marble. I reach out and push the door open, finding her luggage resting upright near the closet. Before I can explain where the en-suite bathroom and walk-in closet are located, she moves past me with an expression of awe. The sunlight streaming in from the wall-to-wall windows bathes her face, making the sparkles of her eye makeup twinkle.
She turns in a pirouette at the room’s center, much like she did on the roof five nights ago and my heart begins to rap rap rap like a fist on a heavy wooden door. “This can’t be where I’m sleeping.” Her hands fly up to cover her mouth. “There’s only one wall. Won’t it break off and fall into the river?”
I know she’s joking, but I suddenly want to switch her to a different room. “Do you like it?”
“Yes,” she breathes, leaping onto the king-sized bed and jumping up and down, once, twice, three times, her skirt floating up to give me a full view of her body below the waist. My cock is aching like a son-of-a-bitch at this point and I’m livid over having to return to the office for a meeting in ten minutes. I could stand there and watch her jump and laugh all day, even if the sight of her panties and thighs and pussy is making me hot and miserable. “It’s incredible,” she shouts, turning in a leaping circle.
Her words are made of frothing champagne bubbles, so I’m at a loss when her shoulders sag and she flops onto the bed. She’s gone from ecstatic to depressed in the space of one second and my heart plummets along with her mood. “What’s the matter, angel?” I approach the bed, hypnotized by the sight of her sprawled out body, especially now that her rucked-up blouse has put her stomach on display. “Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll handle it before you can blink.”