❝Goddammit! I hate you! I hate you and your dumb voice! and your stupid muscles and your awfully attractive face!❞
❝You think I'm attractive?❞
❝Fuck no!❞
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Dangerous, wild and rebellious.
Calm, cool and collected.
Darya just wan...
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The screen glows softly on my laptop, Ethan's face filling the frame as we sit in a comfortable silence. His eyes locks onto mine, and I could sense his gaze lingering on me as I stare at the package he sent.
The dress lay flat on the table beside me, its sleek black fabric a stark contrast to the crumpled packaging it came in.
I hold up the dress, the short hem visible on camera, and raise an eyebrow, questioning. Turning it over, I study the cut, and my gaze lingers on the expanse of bare skin the design would reveal. My scars.
A flicker of unease crosses my face as I glance up at Ethan, my eyes searching for... what? Understanding? Reassurance? Ethan's gaze never wavered, his eyes holding a spark of amusement.
"You will look lovely in it," he assures, standing up and walking to his closet.
My unease still remained, the memory of the disgust people gave me when they see my scars resurfaced.
"Hey sweetheart," he calls out, voice soft but firm as he comes back to sit down, face filling the screen again. "Listen to me, you are beautiful. Your scars? They are evidence of how strong you are. I don't give a fuck about them, and neither should you, and if anyone has anything to say about it, I'll punch their skull in."
I chuckle, the sound slipping out before I could catch it. Ethan's eyes softens, the corners crinkling slightly as his gaze meets mine. "Violence isn't always the answer, Ethan."
His expression shifts, his eyes darkening like a storm cloud rolling in. His face went still, the muscles tightening into an unreadable mask. "For you, murder is even an option."
His voice was low and even, but with an undercurrent that made my skin prickle, not from fear, but the danger lining the words and in that moment, I more than feel that he'll kill for me.
Clearing my throat, I drag my eyes away from it, the intensity at which he's looking at me makes my skin hot.
"I love it when you blush," he comments, lifting his hips up to get more comfortable as he spreads his legs.
My eyes instinctively drop to his crotch, seeing the bulge through his sweatpants even though he isn't hard. He twitches and my eyes snap up to his, seeing the small smirk on his lips.
Fuck. I'm so busted.
I lift a brow, trying and most certainly failing to seem nonchalant about being caught staring at his crotch.
A low chuckle rumbles in his throat as his hand covers his lips before he leans closer to the frame. "Keep doing that and we're going to be late for our date."
My curiosity gets the better of me because the next thing I blurt was, "How so?"
His eyebrows shoots up, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before his eyes grew hooded, the intensity in his gaze making my heart skip a beat.
