It’s not that I don’t understand her confusion, because I do. Until yesterday, I’d never paid much attention to her appearance. She’s always seemed so conservative and reserved, as if she wanted to melt into the background. I’ve always liked her, thought she was intelligent and entertaining, but I’d never considered her as someone I’d take to bed. So I do understand why she doesn’t buy my attraction toward her, but I can’t sleep with her if she believes I’m doing it out of politeness, because I’m not. This is pure selfishness on my part.
So, I have to convince her of her appeal and my genuine desire to do despicable things to her body. “Abby, when it comes to sex, I am never nice.”
She attempts to look away and I grip her jaw. She averts her gaze, and I issue a command, “Look at me.”
She obeys, although the corners of her lips tilt down in a frown. Her previous sass is gone, letting me know a real, sensitive issue is under the surface.
“I’m not doing you a favor.” My voice is soft, my fingers light on her skin. “Believe it or not you’re doing me the favor.”
She shakes her head from my grasp. “Lukas, I appreciate this, but you don’t need to bolster my self-esteem, I’m comfortable with who I am.”
That’s a lie and I call her on it.
“No you’re not. If you were, there wouldn’t be such a contrast to how you portray yourself and the items on your list.” Before she can speak, I flick my tongue along the seam of her lips, then dip to her neck to skim my mouth along the hollow. Her breath hitches and I lick the rapid pulse beating as fast as my own. “Here’s the truth. You walking in on me last night and your email this morning are the hottest, most exciting things I’ve experienced in a long time. I’ve been with you less than two hours and I’ve already enjoyed myself more than I have in my last six months of dates combined.”
Her frown deepens. “They must have been pretty boring dates.”
I smile. “They were. Next to you.”
“I’m sure you’re being nice.” Voice soft and unsure, she pulls back and smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “But it’s still working.”
She’s an accountant, she likes things in black-and-white, and I intend to give her proof. I grab her hand and press her open palm to my hard, aching cock. “Does this feel like I’m being nice?”
A startled gaze flies up to mine.
“I’ve been like this since you opened your front door.” I move her hand up and down the length.
“Oh!” She yanks away as though she’s burned.
I laugh before tilting my head toward the dining room. “Stop distracting me, let’s get back to the experiment. You are to get up, walk across the restaurant, paying attention to the men.” I study her, then make my decision. “In the bathroom, slip your fingers under that killer dress, I want you to know how wet you are.”
Cheeks turning pink, she coughs. “But why?”
“Because you’re an accountant and we all know the proof is in the numbers, don’t we, Abby?”
* * *
Abby
Proofisin the numbers.
The walk through the restaurant is an eye-opening experience, and I’m not quite sure what to do with the information. Lukas has made his point. Men, both young and old keep looking in my direction, their eyes traveling the length of me.
I sag against the bathroom door, my heart pounding in my chest for some strange reason. This night isn’t going as I’d anticipated. I’d thought we’d go grab a quick bite, have a normal, cordial date, and then he’d take me home, to bed, and that’d be the end of it. I did not expect this probing.
It’s confusing me.
Is it possible I’m not invisible?
All my life I’ve never tried much with my appearance because I hadn’t seen the point. Trying to look good would just highlight how I pale in comparison to Eden. Instead, I’d focused on being smart. I don’t even feel competitive about it. I accepted a long time ago that I’d never win, so I didn’t make the effort. Why waste the energy when I could spend my time on my strengths?
Maybe that’s messed up, but it’s hard to explain to other people what it’s like living in the shadow of someone else all the time, someone who takes up all the space and refuses to let me have even a little light. Unless you’ve lived it, it’s hard to understand. It’s why I never talk about it. Whenever I’ve tried, people just assume I’m sad because I’m not as pretty as she is. Trying to explain, gets tangled up and distorted, and I don’t want to deal with their pity.
I don’t want to be Eden. I don’t even like her. Despite all her beauty, she’s not a happy person. She’s troubled, narcissistic, and a practicing alcoholic. My parents spend the bulk of their time dealing with her, fretting over her, worrying about her, seeking answers on how to save her. And anytime I get the slightest bit of attention or acknowledgment, she steals it away from me. I can’t remember a single event in my life that didn’t turn out to be all about Eden.
Maybe I’ve been wrong to deal with it as I have, I don’t know. All I know is I have dealt with it the only way I know how. Being invisible keeps her viciousness away from me. It allows me a small piece of something that isn’t about her.
It’s never occurred to me that it warped my perception.