His Indecent Proposal (7 page)

“Why me?”

He tilted his head slightly as if studying me. “I don’t know exactly. Obviously you fit all the qualifications, but there is more to it. A feeling I have around you. I haven’t experienced it before.” After a beat, he asked, “Do you feel it?”

I tried to shrug casually, but I knew what he was talking about: an energy pulling us together. Like I would know he was in a room without having to look at him. Like if I did see him, my heart would leap and I would get tingly and my spirits would soar just because he was there. But how was that possible when I didn’t even know him?

“All I know,” he continued, lowering his voice and looking at me intensely, “is that I am drawn to you, for lack of a better word. I’m hoping that it means something—that we want the same things—and I’m not going to ignore it.”

I chewed the inside of my lip. No matter my feelings toward him, I couldn’t let myself get sucked in. I would only get hurt. This man was gorgeous and rich—any woman would want him—and I was maybe slightly pretty and a wannabe artist. What could I ever offer him that would compete with any other woman? I was embarrassed to feel that about myself, but I had to face the truth: some of us were better looking and more successful than others.

“How many girlfriends have you had?” I asked, trying to sound casual and failing.

Dallon frowned and sat back in his chair, took a sip of beer before responding. His eyes never left me.

“One. It was in High School. After that, I never dated again.”

“You just slept with women.” As much as I’d tried to prevent it, my tone was critical. I looked away, feeling guilty for ruining what had been a nice moment. To his credit, he didn’t flinch, and he didn’t lie.

“Yes.” He watched me, letting me squirm while I processed this.

“And the pictures?”

“Are you asking if I’ve ever done something like we did the other night before?”

I nodded.

“Of course. But I think you already knew that. However, I have never put an ad out before. The pictures I have taken have been with women I’ve been with.”

“Women that let you take pictures of them while having sex?” I asked in a low voice. My heart was racing.

He hesitated for a moment before responding. “Sometimes. Some asked me to.” When I looked surprised, he added, “Begged me, actually.”

There was his arrogance again. I took a large sip of my wine and he laughed.

“So why the ad?”

“Because I was looking for something very specific,” he said slowly, looking at me with his intense gaze again. “In the ad I put a few ranges and received hundreds of applications, but none of them fit the bill like you.”

I frowned. “You didn’t have many blonde, five-foot-two and 105 pound applications?”

He smiled as if trying to be patient with me. “It wasn’t up for very long. I met with a few women, but I didn’t like them. Some of them were bitchy, others seemed phony. Phoniness is a deal breaker for me.”

I considered this. That meant I only had to be worried about tiny blonde women with genuine personalities, not the entire female population of New York.

“So, you’ve never been with someone that looks like me?”

He smirked. “I wish.”

Again I had to ask it. “Why?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I mean, when I’m alone and I fantasize—” he stopped talking when I blushed and grabbed for my wine, and the side of his mouth quirked up. “Am I making you uncomfortable, Miss Clair?”

Putting my glass down, I simply looked back at his smiling face, refusing to allow him to get under my skin. Eventually, he smiled and continued on.

“I always think of someone that looks like you.” He paused as if weighing whether or not to continue. “In fact, when I saw your photo, I nearly fell off my chair. I thought: this is her.”

I swallowed. So I looked like the fantasy woman he pleasured himself to. That was far from romantic. In addition, he could very well have ideas of what this fantasy woman would be like, and would I live up to her? Did it matter? He wanted me because of a fantasy. It was crazy.

“I love the photos of you and I would like to keep them, but making you upset isn’t worth it to me,” he said softly. “I’d rather know you.”

I ran my finger along the wooden grain of the table. “There isn’t that much to know.”

“Bullshit!” he practically roared, and I jumped a little in my seat. “Do you think that little of yourself?”

“I don’t know,” I answered shakily. I hadn’t expected that strong a reaction.

“Don’t say anything like that again to me, understood?” His jaw was twitching. He was seriously angry, his eyes boring into me with enough intensity to make me wince.

I nodded, unable to look at him. Truth was, he’d embarrassed me by calling me out on my insecurities.

“Good. Never speak badly of yourself. That’s one of the most important lessons I’ve learned.”

“Dallon King’s recipe for success?”

He chuckled. “Yes. Confidence is key. Though, like I said, I do find your modesty refreshing. It’s as if you put an act on for the world, pretending you’re just a regular person. But I can sense there’s more to you—and only one special person will be able to break down those walls.”

Whoa. I reached for my glass of wine to take another sip, smiled embarrassedly when I realized it was empty. Dallon immediately motioned to the server and ordered me another.

“Thanks,” I said softly.

“You’re very welcome.” He smiled, his eyes warm, and I looked away. As much as I was trying to resist, he was making his way into my heart. I knew I should tell him I had to go and stop this conversation. My head told me nothing good could come of it—that he had major issues—but my heart was screaming to give him a chance, to let him in.

I wanted to know him too.

The server returned with my wine and after I took a sip and put my glass down, Dallon reached out and put his hand on mine. Shivers tingled all the way up my arm and into my belly. I looked up and stopped breathing. He was smiling at me with a tender expression, his eyes moist. At that point, I knew I was already lost, that I had been lost since the moment I met him, and nothing that had happened since had changed that.

He was in.

…

To be continued in
His Dark Secret (Overexposed #2)
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You can visit Andra Lake at
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Andra Lake is a New Adult and Erotic Romance writer. When not writing, she's traveling around the world, spending time with the people she loves, or reading in her PJs. She seeks passion in all areas of life.
 

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…
 

Other Titles by Andra Lake
 

Overexposed Series (BDSM):
 

His Indecent Proposal
 

His Dark Secret
 

Ian Crawford Series (New Adult Erotic Romance):
 

Here Comes Trouble
 

Flirting with Disaster (forthcoming)
 

Under My Skin (Breathless Press)
 

A Dark Gift (Evernight Publishing, forthcoming)
 

Also by Andra Lake…
 

Here Comes Trouble
 

Alexis Watson has been dreaming of university her entire high school career. Despite sharing a cramped room with an overbearing roommate, she’s excited for her History of Music class and experiencing everything college life has to offer. Then she meets her Resident Coordinator Ian Crawford, and her world is turned upside down. Ian is a gorgeous ex-model who gave up fame to return to school and be a “regular person”. All the girls want—one got caught giving him a blowjob in a public bathroom first night on campus—which is precisely why Alexis doesn’t. The more she tries to brush him off, however, the more interested he becomes. He’s dark and dangerous, sweet but madd
ening…and he wants her badly.

This is the first novella installment of the Ian Crawford Series.

EXCERPT:

I stood in a dark corner of the study gripping my red solo cup tightly. All around me, sounds of spanking emanated from various rooms in the house, and on the couch in front of me a brunette was being pulled over a guy’s knee. Apparently they weren’t going to use the privacy screens and instead give me a private show. My pulse began to pound in my ears. I knew I should leave—especially so that people couldn’t accuse me of wanting to watch—but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was too afraid to move. Moving meant potentially running into someone with a paddle.  

The man raised his paddle and hesitated before bringing it down hard on the woman’s bare ass. I quickly looked away, only to sneak a peek again as he continued. Her ass turned redder with each slap, and with each slap I could feel the heat growing between my own legs. I had no idea if it was from embarrassment or because I was getting turned on—but it made me worried about my mental health either way.

It was time for me to get the hell out of that house.

“Well, well,” a familiar voice said behind me. “This is the last place I’d expect to see you.”

No way. It can’t be
.

I whipped around to see Ian in the doorway to the study. He looked casual as usual, leaning a forearm against the doorjamb and wearing a black T-shirt and jeans. The position of his arm above his head caused his shirt to pull taut across his strong stomach. His gaze moved lazily around the room, landing on the couple on the couch for only a second as if he’d seen it all before. As his eyes returned to me, he smiled as if I was the real treat.

“Though you certainly
look
the part. Fuck.”

I moved to cross my arms but stopped myself. Instead, I took a swig of my beer for confidence.

“And here I thought you were a good girl.” He dropped his arm and edged closer, and I didn’t back away.

“Melissa brought me.”

“Let me guess—you thought it was a schoolgirl/Tom Cruise kind of party.”

“Yeah. I did.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, but it’s a whole lot dirtier than that.”

“I figured that out, thanks. What are
you
doing here?”

His lips turned up in a smirk as he looked at the spanking scene again. “I got a very interesting text from a friend of mine. Said I wouldn’t believe who was here.” His bright green eyes fell on me. “I figured you were either holding out on me or didn’t know what you’d gotten yourself into, and I should come save you.”

I glared at him. “I’m fine.”

“You
stick out like a sore thumb. Want me to help you out?” From behind his back he produced a paddle, stroked it almost lovingly. “He’s been saving himself for you.”