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She dried herself off, applied a minimal amount of makeup, and contemplated the dresses in the trunk. What did one wear, she thought with a wry twist of her lips, to ask someone to take her virginity?
Settling on a simple sleeveless black dress with a V-neck that teased a peek of her cleavage and a full skirt that swayed just above her knees, she moved out the door with a confident set to her shoulders. This time, as she climbed the stairs to the third floor and walked down the hall to his office, it wasn’t dread that pounded through her veins. There were no thoughts of contracts or inheritances or promotions.
Only Griffith.
She knocked on the door. A moment passed. She knocked again.
Dimly, she heard footsteps. Then the door swung open. Griffith stared at her. She returned his gaze with one of her own, taking in the tousled hair, the long-sleeved tan shirt and dark pants that followed the lines of his muscular physique.
“Why are you here, Rosalind?”
“Because I want you.”
He blinked. Once, twice.
“What?”
“I want you, Griffith.” Her heart climbed into her throat as she pushed herself to the edge of her limits, reached out with both hands for something she wanted with a desperate passion. “I want you to be my first lover.”
He stepped back, his face contorting with shock. “First?”
She silently cursed herself. “That didn’t come out right.”
“Either you’re a virgin or you’re not, Rosalind?”
Intrigue dripped off every word.
She tilted her chin.
“I am.”
He let out a melodic string of Greek, the harsh sting of his tone making it clear he was cursing.
“A virgin?” he repeated.
“Yes. I understand we’re a rare breed past a certain age, but it does happen.”
He turned away, groaning as he scrubbed a hand over his face.
“Rosalind, I need you to leave.”
“No.” She stepped forward, planted herself in the doorway so he couldn’t slam the door in her face. “I won’t go away unless you look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want me, too.”
“That’s exactly why you should go away.” He turned on his heel then, stalked back across the room until a mere whisper separated them. “Because I want you. I want you so badly I ache for you. It physically hurts not to touch you.”
Her chest rose and fell, desire twisting and twirling through her veins with such ferocity it made her feel faint.
“Then why not?”
“Because that’s all I can offer you.” He stepped back then. “Physical pleasure. With whatever time you have left here. Nothing more.”
“Did I ask for more?”
His raspy laugh sounded torn from some place deep inside him. “Not now. But a woman like you, Rosalind, you shouldn’t even have to ask. A man should look at you and know that you deserve more than one night. More than a few pieces of jewelry.”
Her lips parted in shock. It meant something that Griffith saw her like that. Despite her insistence that this would only be a physical thing, she knew that she was risking, and would most likely lose, part of her heart to this man. This man so convinced of his own hideousness that he couldn’t see the moments where his humanity shone through.
Was it worth it?
