Although the landscape is boring, she stares out the windows like she’s never seen anything so beautiful. As if she’s on some incredible adventure with me. She’s clueless about the dangers. Even after I’ve told her, straight up, that she can’t fuck about with the Dukes. They are ruthless, evil bastards and they will kill her. She acts as if she’s safe with me. As if I can protect her from them.
That causes some idiotic thing inside my chest to swell and strengthen.
I think Anna Whitt is bad for my health.
The thing is, as adorable as her innocence might be on the surface, it would be foolish of me to allow her to stay that way. She’s not open to being trained, other than a mention of wanting to learn how to hide her colors. She refuses to see the necessity of losing her virginity, or at least pretending not to be so good. It’s only a matter of time before the Dukes start sniffing around, but she just doesn’t get it. She has no self-preservation instinct. I have to help her out.
But I have to be smooth about it. I have to win her over. For both our sakes, I need to shag her like mad by the end of this road trip.
Anna will be my toughest conquest yet. From what I’ve seen so far, she’s the queen of self-control. A nun in training or some shite.
There’s only one way to get a girl like Anna into bed before marriage, and I’m not looking forward to the amount of work it will require. She’s not the kind of girl who goes for the bad boy, so I must be on my best behavior. But in order for her to appreciate my best behavior, she needs to think she’s causing some positive change in me. I’ll need to make her think I’m letting her into the deep, dark places of myself. Essentially, I have to make Anna fall in love with me and believe I’m in love with her, as well.
A twinge of guilt fills my bowels, but it’s fleeting, gone before my next breath. It must be done. Eventually she’ll thank me.
Day one goes well, I think. And I manage to get her to agree on a single room at the motel instead of separate ones. She’s into me. Drawn against her will. And I gladly take advantage of it.
I get comfortable on my bed, enjoying the way she stares at me when she doesn’t think I’m paying attention, and how easy it is to make her nervous when I play with my blade.
After some uncomfortable chitchat, in which I talk about my childhood and Father’s horrible parenting—all true—I proceed to make her jealous with the texts I’m receiving from other girls, which is adorable. So far she’s playing directly into my hand, but her questions and need for knowledge eventually sidetrack my efforts. She seems fascinated that I’m always using my supernatural abilities. Her hatred of her Neph senses is baffling. She needs to be proud of her heritage, to understand the benefit of her extended senses. I go over and sit next to where she’s lying on her bed, and she gets skittish, trying to scoot away.
“No, stay lying down,” I say, touching her arm. “I want to show you something.”
I want to show her a lot of things, and I daresay she knows this by now. She narrows those little brown eyes at me, and I have to laugh.
“Calm down, luv.” I find that I say “luv” a lot more since I moved to the States. American girls go crazy for it. Not sure it’s working on Anna yet, but it’s worth a try.
“What are you going to do?” Her sweet voice and light Southern accent go straight to my crotch, and I’m glad she’s at an angle where she can’t see.
“Nothing that will compromise your virtue and have Patti hunting me down. Now close your eyes.” I’d promised Patti I’d bring Anna home safely, with her virtue intact. I plan to keep only the first part of that promise, even though I quite like Patti. What neither of them realize is that Anna’s virtue is the very thing that will put her in danger.
What I’m planning is a simple exercise to build her trust, to show her I’m more than a sex fiend. I want her to see that her senses can be pleasant. And maybe I want to touch her, just a small bit.
At first I don’t think she’s going to play along. Then she lets out a huff and lies back.
Good girl.
But God, she’s stiff as a board.
“Now, I want you to relax and concentrate on your sense of touch. I’ll be a good boy. I promise.”
I am planning to be good.
I watch as she exhales and relaxes. I can imagine the tingling she feels as she opens her nerve endings to full exposure. And I remember something cool that my Neph friend Marna once showed me when we were younger. Without touching any other part of her, I press my fingertip into the palm of her nearest hand.
I smile when she gasps. “I can sense your fingerprint!”
Wicked. Wait until she feels what’s next. I scoot down and take her foot into my hand. I watch Anna’s face soften with bliss as I knead and press my fingers against her sole. Then I move up to her ankle, and suddenly her eyes pop open as she wrenches her knees to her chest.
What’d I do?
“Wait,” she says. “Not my legs. They’re . . .”
What is she going on about? “They’re lovely.” In fact, they’re killer.
“No, please. I didn’t have time to shave this morning.”
I throw my head back and laugh. Call me sick and twisted, but it takes a hell of a lot more than a little hair to bother me. Her paranoia is adorable, though.
“All right, fine, no legs. But you’re missing out. I’m not through with you. Roll onto your stomach and relax again.”