“I missed a lot then,” I say softly.
She gives me a sharp look like don’t think about it too much. And to distract me further, she says, “Maria is in the Nutcracker this December. The entire family is going in support.”
“I’ll be there.” I pick up the hint. “Umm…” I scan the half-decorated store. “Do you need any help here?”
“I have it under control,” she says quickly, almost like a reflex. She spins back on her heels, and as I turn to leave, she pauses. “Wait.”
I glance back.
“I’m starving.” She grabs her keys off the counter and her clutch. “Let’s go eat lunch.”
I smile softly, kind of loving that it wasn’t a question. It’s more like Rose to demand your company than to ask for it. “Okay.”
The knots in my stomach slowly begin to untangle.
40
1 year : 04 months
December
LILY CALLOWAY
Our limo driver slams on the brake for the third time, and I fall backwards on the leather seat, laughing so much that my chest hurts. Lo breathes heavily, his hand gripping the seat above me, and as he stares down, he shakes his head. But his own smile envelops his face and dimples his cheeks.
“You think he’s doing it on purpose?” he asks, his amber eyes flitting down my body, creating hot trails.
“He’d be a grade-A cock-blocker,” I say.
“Well, I refuse to be cock-blocked tonight.” The headiness, the desire in his gaze sweeps me into a bigger, better ride than the swerving limo ever could. “You ready?”
As he says the words, the car careens forward once more, and he nearly slides off the back seat. He grips my shoulder, his body pressed against mine, and fixes a sturdy hand to the door above my head.
I laugh more, especially as he nuzzles his forehead in the crook of my neck and lets out a long, agonizing groan.
I love that he’s hornier than me.
I love that I can laugh during sex.
But mostly, I love that being tangled together in the backseat of a car is no longer wrong. It won’t turn me into a compulsive monster anymore. It’s a level of control that I never thought I’d reach.
Yet, here it is.
I’m starting to feel normal. Or at least, our kind of normal.
Lo’s groans turn into kisses on my neck, ones that soak my underwear and rouse so many sensitive places. My laughter burns out, replaced by deep breaths.
He rolls my velvet black dress up to my belly and hooks his finger in my panties, pulling them aside. When his lips reach mine, he fills me, his hardness slowly lighting up every single nerve. My chin rises with a silent gasp.
And then he kisses me deeply, in immeasurable increments that weld our bodies together. Like they were made to never break apart.
The car whips left like the driver missed the turn, but Lo has braced himself to me. And he uses the momentum to drive deeper between my thighs, my body electrifying. I let out a ragged moan. Everything clenches, my legs tremble, and he just holds me tightly, creating a fullness inside me that didn’t exist before.
I can feel Lo’s smile on my lips. I return the kiss, trying to wipe away his grin, making it a goal. He cups the back of my head, and the more aggressive I become and swell his lips, the harder his c**k pounds into me.
When I come for the second time, it’s short, sporadic, and leaves me utterly breathless.
Lo laughs between his heavy groans, still rocking against me, building his own cl**ax and rousing a new one for me. “You would be an awful lay if you were a guy,” he explains the source of his humor.
“Huh.”
He kisses me and clarifies, “You wouldn’t be able to last that long.”
True. “How am I as a girl…?” I grip his biceps, distracted as his thrusts turn slow and deep. Oh God. My back arches, and my lips part in need.
His amber eyes graze me as though I’m the most beautiful broken thing he’s ever been a part of. “You’re perfect.”
It’s a lie, but he makes it sound so true. I cry as he hits another sensitive place. My hand drifts to his ass that tightens with each push into me.
He snatches my wrist and reads my watch. “Dammit.”
“Are we late?” I ask, shutting my eyes and gliding into another world. “I don’t mind…so much…” Oh God. My toes curl.
“Not yet,” he tells me, and I take it that he’s talking about the time. Not my cl**ax, because I can’t restrain it like he can withhold his.
There is no warning before he quickens his pace, slaying every nerve and seizing my breath. I’m his for the taking.
My eyes stay closed, focusing on his husky grunts that are primal and needy. My core thrums with deep-seated attraction. Physically, mentally, emotionally—Loren Hale has all of me.
“Open,” he whispers in a coarse voice.
Oh. I open my eyes.
And drown beneath his amber ones.
* * *
When we exit the limo, the wind whips my shoulder-length hair, snowflakes settling on my black pea coat. Fifteen minutes early to Maria’s ballet. Must be a record.
Lo’s breath smokes as he shuts the door and nears me on the sidewalk. No cameras around. It’s one of those rare nights where no one paid attention to what the Calloways were up to. Other families excitedly head into the theatre, and I’m about to follow when Lo grabs my arm.
“Wait,” he says.
I spin back around. Wreaths hang on lampposts, dim light casting halos on the street. I have a sudden flashback, remembering the snow, the wreaths. Lo was twenty-one when he went to rehab, on Christmas Eve. And now he’s twenty-three.
He must read my faraway expression because he says, “Can you believe I’ve been sober for this long?”
“Yes,” I say definitively. His light brown hair is dusted with snowflakes, some flutter and land on his eyelashes. His face is flushed more from earlier than the cold. He’s beautiful, seductive even. I could kiss him again.
“We’re doing well, aren’t we?” he asks. “This…” He motions between the two of us. “It’s working.” He’s been so confident about our new routine—sex almost three times a day and wherever we like—that it’s a surprise hearing him question it now.
“I think so,” I say. “It feels right.” Not every time is easy. Sometimes I’m a little compulsive and grabby, but I don’t think either of us expects it to be good twenty-four-seven for the rest of our lives.
There will always be bad days, but it’s how we live those bad days that counts.
He says, “Can you believe you’ve learned how to control most of your compulsions?” He rests his arms on my shoulders, like we’re about to dance.
“It still feels like a dream,” I whisper.
“It’s real to me,” he says. “It took you years. It wasn’t an overnight thing, Lil.” His gaze falls to my lips. And after a long moment, he breaks the quiet. “I want to marry you.”
The words rock me back a little. He holds tighter.
“Soon,” he continues on. “In the next year maybe?” His eyes rush mine, searching for confirmation, to ensure we’re on the same page.
“Next year,” I smile and slap his arm in excitement. “What if we get married on 6-16?”
He’s grinning. His sharp jawline and cheekbones just plain gorgeous. “Whatever you want.”
He leans down, kissing me with the Christmas lights shimmering overhead. With the snow falling, it’s a picture perfect moment.