She's Too Young (3 page)

“You’re in luck.” My voice rings slightly hollow, so I drink from the glass of water on my desk. “I’ve had a managerial position open up in the Netherlands. A tech company we acquired and decided to salvage. It’s three times your current salary.” I pick up the stapled documents to my right and lay them down in front of Jack. “And if we can agree on these specific terms, I’d be willing to satisfy your wife’s medical debts, in addition to moving expenses and the more sizable income.”

His expression is one of stunned confusion for long moments, then his eyes fall to the documents. “Why would you do that?”

An image of Veda floating across the roof twists through my mind. “In exchange for getting you out of debt and providing the means to get back on your feet, your daughter will remain here with me, in New York.” I gesture to the paperwork, completed by my attorney late last night. “You only need to sign and I’ll become Veda’s legal guardian.”

“I can’t do that,” Jack grounds out.

“You
will
do it.” I take a pen from my desk and toss it onto the paperwork, slipping into that cold zone of negotiation and forcing myself to remain there. “I think we can be frank with one another, Mr. Rose, so I won’t insult you by pretending I don’t want to take Veda to bed. Badly.” His incensed gaze flies to mine. “But I can promise you she’ll be treated with respect while under my protection. I would sooner leap from this building than upset her. She’ll be given anything she could ever want.” I leave it unspoken that he can’t do the same. “She must remain with me until she’s eighteen—the contract is conditional on that fact—at which point, she’ll be given the option to leave or stay. Although, you should know that I’ll do everything in my power to ensure the latter.”

“Why?” Mr. Rose shakes his head. “You’re young. You look like a damn movie star. When the women on my floor pass you in the lobby, they talk about it for weeks.” Silence passes. “Is it only because she’s…seventeen?”

I’m unused to being asked for
reasons
from anybody and I find the prospect of discussing my inner workings distasteful. But I force myself to attempt an explanation, perhaps because I’m looking for one myself. I’ve never experienced this kind of all-consuming fixation before, nor will I again. “If it were only about her age, I could make that happen in my world. Nothing is…off limits to men like me.” A sharp object jabs me in the chest and twists. “I was asleep before she appeared and now I’m so awake I can barely fucking stand it. Does that answer your question?”

Eyes falling shut, he picks up the pen. “This makes me as much a bastard as you. Selling my own daughter.” The tip touches down on the signature line. “If I had any other option—if I wasn’t weeks from losing everything—I wouldn’t do it.”

“Aren’t you going to read the full contract?”

“What could be worse than what I already know?”

He shouts the question, causing my security guard to step into the doorway, but I wave them off. “There
is
one more thing.”

N
ormally on a
Thursday afternoon, I’m waist-deep in conference calls and purchase negotiations at the office, but I’ve cancelled the second half of my day. I want—fuck it, I
need
—to be home when Veda arrives. It has been five days since our first meeting on the roof and I’m barely holding on. Apart from the photographs I’ve been sent of her going about her daily activities, I’ve had no contact with her and I’m like a caged bear, pacing the living room of my apartment.

All right, maybe ‘apartment’ isn’t the correct word for my four-story living quarters in Tribeca, located at the top of a fifty-story luxury building. From here, I can see the Hudson and New Jersey on the other side. From my bedroom upstairs, the Statue of Liberty seems close enough to touch and yet I’m not confident about any of the amenities now. I can’t very well see the place through the eyes of a seventeen-year-old girl, can I? So I’ve hired the correct people to make sure Veda’s wishes are met at all times, since I can’t be home often enough. A fact that never bothered me before, but I have a distinct feeling will be abhorrent to me going forward.

My cell phone buzzes in my pocket signaling an incoming text. The bellman downstairs is letting me know Veda is on her way up in the elevator and God almighty, my cock starts to get hard. I know what you must think of me by now, but understand that the moment those elevator doors roll open and I witness Veda’s trepidation, I stop thinking with the heavy tool in my briefs, because my chest wants to cave in. She looks so small inside the polished chrome mouth of the elevator, suitcases being held by a bellman to her right. So fragile.

Fragile and…a touch suspicious.

If I hadn’t made it the final condition that Veda know
nothing
about the contract—merely that I’ve offered her a place to stay while Jack is overseas—I would think she
knew
what I’d done. But I don’t think her father is that reckless.

I’ve closed half of the distance between us before I realize I’ve even moved, issuing a brief directive to the bellman regarding where to leave Veda’s luggage. I consider asking if she’s going to remain in the elevator forever, but she finally steps out, head tilting back so she can meet my eyes. Hers are still filled with unease as she says, “You’re even more handsome in the light.” Her chin is stubborn. “I wish you were ugly.”

“Why?”

She lifts one shoulder gracefully and lets it fall, beginning to play with the edge of her skirt. Her short, blue and white plaid, private school skirt.
Fuck. Me.
“I can’t think straight around you,” she whispers, as if sharing a secret. “I think you’re up to no good, Ramsey Beckett, but I think the more time I spend around you, the less I’m going to care. And that’s bad.”

If she thinks
I
look better in the light, someone should get her a mirror, because I’m completely fucking mesmerized. There are little green pinpricks in her giant, blue eyes. Her mouth is straight off a cherub, right along with her smooth, lightly flushed complexion. Don’t get me started on the taut, inviting lines of her body, because there’s not enough time in the world to list their perfections.

However, it’s in that moment I decide to take things somewhat slowly. She’s already got suspicions—and they’re correct. I’m a man who became consumed by her on sight. I’ve bought her, moved her into my house. There’s no way around that fact. But I can make sure she doesn’t feel pressure to give me any part of herself. I can give her time to trust me, even though I’ll probably die several small deaths in the process.

“I’m up to no good, am I?” I step back and gesture toward the staircase, which sweeps upward from the living room. “What makes you think so?”

When Veda precedes me up the stairs with an eye roll, I don’t even make an attempt to look away from the side-to-side snap of her hips, the lily-white panties that peek out when her skirt flaps back with each step. “You sent my father to the Netherlands and now I’m here.” She pauses mid-step and turns, one foot on a higher step than the other, giving me a decadent view of her cotton-covered pussy. “Would you have done that if we hadn’t met on the roof and…kissed?”

Watching the flush creep up her neck, I run my tongue along the inside of my lower lip. “You’re letting me look up your skirt right now and you have the nerve to turn pink?”

Her hips sway a little, a smirk plumping her lips, but I can see the gravity in her eyes. She might be playing the flirt, but she’s only doing it to distract me. “You didn’t answer my question,” she says.

I can’t be honest with her. Not completely. Not until she has a chance to know me. Yes, I’ve gone to extremes to get her here. Yes, I’m a bad man. But I’m determined to be a
good
one for Veda.

“Your father was due a promotion and he was in debt. Did meeting you on the roof cause me to look into the situation?” I take her knee and ease her thighs closed, because one more second of looking at heaven and I will attempt to fuck her into a screaming fit on the stairs. “Yes. I wanted to know more about you, and in turn, your father. When I saw the dire straits he was in, I had to move quickly.”

She scrutinizes me for long moments, before continuing up the stairs, her fingers trailing slowly up the railing. The way I’d like them to do on my belly. “Which room is mine?”

“Last door on the right,” I answer, moving even with her as we walk down the hallway, her slip-on sneakers squeaking on the white marble. I reach out and push the door open, finding her luggage resting upright near the closet. Before I can explain where the en-suite bathroom and walk-in closet are located, she moves past me with an expression of awe. The sunlight streaming in from the wall-to-wall windows bathes her face, making the sparkles of her eye makeup twinkle.

She turns in a pirouette at the room’s center, much like she did on the roof five nights ago and my heart begins to
rap rap rap
like a fist on a heavy wooden door. “This can’t be where I’m sleeping.” Her hands fly up to cover her mouth. “There’s only one wall. Won’t it break off and fall into the river?”

I know she’s joking, but I suddenly want to switch her to a different room. “Do you like it?”

“Yes,” she breathes, leaping onto the king-sized bed and jumping up and down, once, twice, three times, her skirt floating up to give me a full view of her body below the waist. My cock is aching like a son-of-a-bitch at this point and I’m livid over having to return to the office for a meeting in ten minutes. I could stand there and watch her jump and laugh all day, even if the sight of her panties and thighs and
pussy
is making me hot and miserable. “It’s incredible,” she shouts, turning in a leaping circle.

Her words are made of frothing champagne bubbles, so I’m at a loss when her shoulders sag and she flops onto the bed. She’s gone from ecstatic to depressed in the space of one second and my heart plummets along with her mood. “What’s the matter, angel?” I approach the bed, hypnotized by the sight of her sprawled out body, especially now that her rucked-up blouse has put her stomach on display. “Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll handle it before you can blink.”

She sits up, pushing the fall of blonde hair behind one slim shoulder. “It’s nothing, really.”

I take her chin in my hand, tilting it up. “Tell me.”

Blue eyes flash at mine while she hesitates. “Every year, my dad is working on parent-teacher conference day, but he was going to make it this year. Took the day off and everything.” She tilts her head, nuzzling her cheek into my hand. “No one has made the appointment since my mother died and it always feels like I’m the only one. The only student who doesn’t have someone to show up.”

Guilt prods me in the gut like a glowing iron poker. “You still have those conferences, even though you’re a senior in high school?”

She nods. “In private school, we do.”

“And when is this meeting supposed to take place?”

“Tomorrow morning,” she whispers, pressing her lips to the center of my palm. Jesus Christ, I’m going to bust through the fly of my dress pants. Her lips…you have no idea what the swollen drag of them does to me, coupled with the sadness in her eyes. I’m inside out, my tongue weighing a thousand pounds in my mouth. I would promise her the universe right now, if she asked me.

My thumb brushes over her cheek. “I’ll go to your meeting.”

The blue of her eyes lightens. “You will?”

Perhaps I’m distracted by the never-ending rush of lust she inspires in me, but I think I sense victory in her expression, before it vanishes. Did I imagine it?

Then I have no more capacity to speculate, because she shoots to her feet and begins to jump on the bed once again, her blonde hair flying out in dozens of directions like rays of light. The difference this time is I have a front row seat to the flying up of her skirt, the flex of her thighs, the bouncing of her tits beneath the buttoned, white blouse. “Veda, that’s enough.” She doesn’t listen, merely jumping higher, smile broadening. “You’re not to do this unless I’m home.”

One of the buttons on her shirt opens. Two more of them follow suit. “Because you would catch me if I fell?”

“Yes.”

The answer is barely out of my mouth when she comes too close to the edge. I lunge forward, tackling her backwards onto the bed. And when my muscles press her gentle curves down into the mattress, that’s it. I’m already frantic. She’s breathing heavy from the exertion, her breasts shuddering up and down inside the lace cups of her bra. I plant my mouth between them and lick up to her neck, one hand reaching between our bodies to unfasten my pants. This is it. I’m already ruined. She hasn’t been in my home five minutes and I’m already getting ready to bury myself in her too-young, too-sweet pussy.

“
Mr. Beckett
,” calls a male voice, outside in the hall. For a few beats, I resolve to ignore the person calling my name, because fuck, her skin tastes like sugar, and she’s got her fingers sliding through my hair, tugging. Those fingers are shaking a little, but she’s excited, her thighs blossoming open like a shy flower. She’d let me give her my dick right here, right now, in the middle of the day, before she has even taken off her pristine tennis shoes.