nshk khv.

ceptional, Charlotte.” Wait, what? “You seemed pretty exasperated with me,” I reply. “I didn’t do anything right.” “Well, in your defense, you didn’t even know what you were doing.” A laugh bubbles out of my chest. “So how was that exceptional?” He’s pensive again, clearly at war with himself inside his head as he weighs his options, probably thinking that as the adultier adult here, he should really put an end to this inappropriate discussion. “I really shouldn’t say…” “Oh, come on. You started it.” It takes some effort, but I manage to keep my casual tone and lazy approach. And suddenly, there is no hesitation. The words just travel effortlessly across the table straight from his lips to my ears. “Ms. Underwood, you looked exquisite on your knees.” Even if I had a voice at this moment, I wouldn’t know what to say. Instead, I’m rendered completely and utterly speechless, sitting across from him like a fish with my jaw hanging open, wondering how I went from a fight with Beau on his front lawn a couple days ago to this—his father telling me that I look good on my knees. No, not just good. Exquisite. That word has lost all meaning to me now. Not a day will go by in my long life when I will hear those three syllables and not think of a man twenty years my senior, using that exact designation when referring to how well I kneeled for him. It’s ludicrous. Ridiculous. Narcissis