I backed up to look at her and she was so damned perfect. I wanted to tell her that she was everything to me even if I didn’t know much more than how beautiful she was. She made my heart and head spin out of control.
Her eyes looked up into my mine with a panged expression. “I’m sorry, but I can’t,” she murmured as I removed my arms from the door.
“What do you mean?” I needed to know the truth. Was I too scary to look at? “Do the scars bother you?”
“No, they don’t. We all have scars.”
“None as prominent as mine.” She looked away with a sad air about her. She had some of her own? I didn’t see the report so it might have been in there. “Oh, no. What happened to you?”
“You don’t know?” Her brows knitted like I was supposed to know what happened to her.
“No, I didn’t do any research on you yet.” I knew I had just slipped that I was going to run a full report on her. I already had it, but I didn’t want her to know that.
“I’m going to let that go because you’re wealthy and I’m sure that’s just protective protocol, but it’s odd that you don’t know.” She took a deep breath. “I was in the car with my father that day. I was injured and hospitalized.”
“What? It didn’t say that in the accident records at all.” I was shocked.
“Are you calling me a liar?” Oh shit. I didn’t think of it that way.
“No. It’s just…I didn’t even know he had a daughter, so how could I know that you were in the car?”
“Well, he did and I was. I’m here and my scars are as brutal as yours. So if you were looking for a flawless beauty, you’ve come knocking on the wrong door,” she said defensively.
“To me you’re flawless. I haven’t found one thing I’d want to change—scars or not.” I bent down and kissed her again. I wanted her to know I meant what I said. Instead of pulling back, I pressed deeper into her fusing our chests together. I was about to lift her into my arms and carry her to the nearest soft surface when I felt something wet on my leg and knew it was too low to be the pre-come I felt leaking onto my boxers. I pulled away from her to look at the piss-head who had just soaked my pants.
Elena covered her mouth with her hand in shock, then gasped, “Oh, my god, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I grumbled, involuntarily snarling at the dog.
“Do you usually grumble when you're angry?” She looked up at me with beautiful doe eyes and a kissable grin.
“I guess. I don’t evaluate my facial expressions when I’m pissed off, or rather pissed on.”
She let out a little bit of a giggle. “It’s just it’s really cute,” she sighed.
She thought I was cute; something I did was cute? Okay. I’ll take it. I felt like a king and all she said was my scowl was cute. Damn. I was so fucking hard I couldn’t even think straight. “Listen, little thing, please stop with the sweet shit.”
“Why? Because you’re Mr. Big, Hard, and Tough and no gooey nonsense for you?” she challenged, turning to finally leave the condo.
I wrapped my arms around her, pressing my cock against her ass letting her feel how hard I was. “No. Because, he’s big and hard. And you’re making it tough to walk.”
“Oopsie.” She blushed then left me standing in the doorway with a clearly visible erection. I grumbled, closed the door, adjusted my cock, and chased after her. I turned back quickly and thought I saw something out the corner of my eye, but it must have just been my imagination.
Chapter 3
We took a very short walk for Bruno to finish taking care of his needs before heading back to my place for dinner. During that time, I learned how Dexter spent his free time; although, I could tell from just looking at him. He spent two hours a day at the gym. Who the hell spent two hours working out? I got too bored with more than a twenty-minute jog. Working out suited him well; I wanted to moan out loud every time his firm jaw flexed.
He made a point of holding my hand the entire time we were outside, rubbing and caressing it. He looked sternly at any guy that passed by us. It was like he was trying to tell everyone around that I belonged to him. Not that we had a relationship; we’d only officially met the other day. I may have kept a picture of him in my phone, but he didn’t need to know that. He was steamrolling me into something I wasn’t sure would work out. After all, our lives were changed by what my father did.