Page 96 of David's Proposal

I prop a hand on the edge of the sink.

“What am I doing here? I’m still at the party. I thought you left,” I say, pushing my chin up a little and staring at him in defiance. “Where is Pam?”

He inches closer and stops next to me.

My butt is propped against the edge of the sink when he turns the water on and washes his hands, looking in the mirror.

“Why are you asking me about her?” he says, still staring in the mirror.

He finishes washing his hands and patting them dry with a paper towel.

“I thought you left because of me,” I murmur.

A slow smile curves his lips.

“Really?’

“Yeah, really.”

He balls up the piece of paper and tosses it in the garbage.

“Why would I do that?”

“I thought you were mad that I told you to go away.”

His eyebrows tilt up.

“Mad? No. I wasn’t mad.”

A smile lines his lips.

“Why would I be mad that I couldn’t touch you in your cousin’s house?”

Looking at my dress, he removes his suit jacket.

“Can you take that off?” he asks directly.

“Off?”

“Mm-hmm.”

The moment is strange.

Is he joking? Testing me? Is he fucking serious?

“Why would I take my dress off?”

“Semen stains are pretty obvious on black dresses.”

My cheeks are about to melt off.

“Turn around,” he says, not giving me much time to ponder––that’s the whole point, I guess.

“It will be over quickly,” he says as if talking about a root canal or something.

I’m kind of curious about what he has in mind, and despite all the risks of doing something naughty here, in Thea’s house, I pivot to face the mirror and turn my back to him.

He runs his hand up my legs, parts my thighs, touches the band of fabric covering my center, and rubs it a few times.

---