“Do you have any fucking idea how fucking beautiful you are?” A small chuckle escapes him. It’s filled with nervous energy and a touch of chaos.
I blink several times, my mouth opening slightly to respond but nothing comes out. Because, did he really just say that? What do I say in return? Why is my throat constricting?
“What’s underneath that T-shirt?”
His question shocks me a little. I wasn’t expecting that at all. But it’s not a bad kind of shocked, like I’m appalled. Instead, I’m feeling quite… turned on.
“Just my panties,” I say honestly.
He squeezes his eyes shut for a long moment, inhaling deeply. He presses his palms to his eye sockets, applying pressure like he’s trying to rid a headache. And then he drops his hands, his eyes back on me in an instant.
“I’m going to ask you something, Darcy. And you have to be honest with me. No matter what.” His face is serious.
“Okay.”
“I’m a thirty-five-year-old man, Darcy. I’m a single dad, which somehow always has my life in a state of crazy. And then there’s you. And you’re young and beautiful and vibrant. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you, and you could literally have or be anything you want. You know?” He exhales. All of that tumbled out of him in one breath and now he’s looking at me like I should totally understand.
“I don’t understand,” I admit.
“Just—” He straightens his shoulders and takes a moment to compose himself. “Just stand up, please.”
Without hesitation, I crawl to the edge of the bed and step off, making sure my shirt doesn’t ride up. I’m mere inches from him, but still, he steps closer. His body is humming. I can feel the energy rolling off him. But I don’t move.
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