Page 42 of The Teacher and the Virgin

“Why me?” I asked, when he turned off the car.

“You’re smart, beautiful, and classy. Your curves go on for miles and every time I look at you, all I can think about is bending you over my desk and filling you with my cock. That virginity you wanted to throw away, that was mine.”

“That's awfully possessive of you,” I countered.

He stared at me, his eyes dark and intent. There I saw so much, everything he'd never shown me before. It was the most heated, most carnal gaze I'd ever seen. “I want you, Emma. And not as a one-night-stand.”

I couldn’t breathe, hope like a butterfly floating in my chest. “Then what do you want?”

“Forever.”

My heart beat too fast. Forget butterflies. A herd of buffalo was running through my stomach and I felt like I was going to faint.

Carter looked at me for a moment, then reached over to touch my forehead, as if I were a sick child with a fever. “Emma? Are you all right?”

“No.” No. I wasn’t all right. I’d somehow stepped into an alternate reality where I got to fuck Carter Buchanan. Where the sexy as sin billionaire started talking about forever with the innocent and inexperienced secretary. This had to be a dream. Or a joke. Maybe a bet? Had he made one of those stupid bets about who gets the virgin, like I’d seen in the movies? Just how stupid was I being here?

Truly. What were the odds that Carter Buchanan, sexy, smart billionaire really, truly wanted middle-class nobody, a secretary who’d never even been with a man before?

He should be out with a supermodel or an actress. Or a freaking doctor or something. I was fooling myself. Looking away from his concerned expression, I said, “Take me home, please.”

“Talk to me.”

“Take me home.”

I saw a muscle in his jaw tick, but he started the car and drove me back to my place. The short ride was in complete silence and it was excruciating. I thought he’d drop me off and go, thanks to the cold shoulder I was giving him. Instead, he parked and hurried to my side of the car to help me out. It turned out to be a good thing, because my knees were shaky as hell, just like my emotions.

Chapter Eight

Emma

Carter wrapped his arm around my waist and led me back to my door. When I fumbled with the keys, he took them from me and unlocked the deadbolt. After escorting me inside, he closed the door behind us, flipped on a light and walked me to the couch. I sat down with a heavy sigh.

Maybe I did need food. Or a reality check. Everything felt like it was spinning out of control.

A few days ago, I’d been confident and ready to move on with my life, ready to leave my obsession with Carter behind.

Now, he was on his knees on my living room floor. On his knees! His hands rested on my thighs, as if he owned them, their heat burning away the fog in my brain and turning it into something else.

“Carter,” I whispered.

Tempted beyond all reason, I opened my legs slightly, eager to feel him between them even as I hated myself for being weak.

No. I didn’t need food. I needed Carter to touch me, make me feel alive and real and loved. Not this scared, shell-shocked version of myself too afraid to believe a word coming out of his mouth.

I was in love with Carter. Had been for months. And hearing him talk about forever so casually, when I knew he couldn’t possibly be sincere…well…it broke me a little. Broke my heart.

“You should go.” I loved him, but I wasn’t an idiot. I knew the score when he slept with me the night before. I'd been a virgin and he wanted to be the one to pop my cherry. Fine. I got it. For some weird reason, men liked to be first. Whatever. A random guy from the bar would have been long gone by now. But Carter, he didn’t have to mess with my head like this.

“No. I’m not going anywhere until you listen to me.” His words were just as insistent as his hands on my thighs.

I shook my head and pulled myself together. Closing my legs, I lifted my head and stared right at him. I let him see just how much he was hurting me with his games. “Just… just go, Carter. This isn’t funny anymore.”

“I’m not joking.” Carter reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a small, black velvet ring box. “Marry me, Emma. I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for months. You’re the only woman for me. I want you. I want you to be the mother of my children. I want to be yours. Not just for one night, Emma. Forever.”

I stared, stunned, until he opened the ring box and turned it to me. Inside was the most beautiful diamond solitaire I’d ever seen.

Blinking slowly, I looked from the ring to his face, saw the sincerity, the need, the love. I felt the first tear burn its way down my right cheek and I dashed it away with shaking fingers, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

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