The Last Days of Lilah Goodluck

Chapter 15

15

Alistair works in the corner while I play dress-up. A pair of designer jeans with a red tank and matching Saint Laurent flat mules gets a disinterested glance from him. While the blue floor-length seventies-style V-neck gown with balloon sleeves receives the high praise of a distracted nod. His full attention isn’t garnered until the black pencil skirt with white silk top and Louboutin slingback sandals with a four-inch heel. Top-tier sexy librarian.

“She’ll take that,” he says to Carolina before returning to his laptop.

“She can make her own choices,” I reply. “But you were nice enough to give me your credit card, so I’ll allow you a small say in the matter.”

He smiles, but nothing is said.

There’s lots of nice stuff on the rack, but I settle on just the three outfits. More than enough to make me feel indulged. Not so much that if I die in the next few days, it will go to waste. With the shoes and purses, it must add up to four or five figures. Which is mind-blowing. But Carolina saved the truly interesting items for last. Chemises and camisoles and corsets made of the finest lace, embroidered tulle, and smoothest silk. I always thought if I had money, I’d spend it on lingerie and books. Luxury for the butt and the brain—a perfect balance. And these pieces of intimate apparel are breathtaking. But despite my brave words about credit card usage, a wee smidgen of guilt is happening.

“It’s beautiful.” I turn this way and that, admiring the black bodysuit with lace edging. “But I think I have enough for now.”

Carolina says nothing to me. She does, however, step out of the changing room and announce, “Alistair, if you’d like to take over?”

“That time, is it?” I hear him say. “If we could have the room, please.”

“Of course.”

The door quietly opens and closes. We’re alone.

“Lilah, can I come in?”

It’s not that all the salient parts of me aren’t covered. I look amazing in the overpriced intimate apparel, and he better appreciate it. It’s also not like he wasn’t going to see a whole lot more sooner or later. Any adverse reaction to the cellulite on my thighs can be dealt with here and now. This is a good thing. “Sure. Why not?”

He wanders on into the changing room area without a word, pushes aside the curtain, and grinds to a halt. “Fuck.”

“Just out of curiosity, is that a good expletive or a bad expletive?”

“Good. Very good.” He cocks his head and circles me like a shark. All hunger and intent. Heat curls through me in response. Everything low in my body drawing tight. His dark gaze is nothing less than thrilling. “The way it pushes up your tits is amazing. Does this come in other colors?”

“No idea.”

“I definitely think you should have several of these. You know...for emergencies.”

“What sort of emergency would that be?”

He leans against the wall and crosses his arms. Totally at his ease in this situation. “You wanted to know how I feel about you. I thought it best we discuss it face-to-face.”

“You want to talk about that now?”

“Yes.”

Standing around in silk and lace in front of him has me feeling all sorts of exposed. The ogling doesn’t need to be one-sided, however. He ditched the suit jacket and tie and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt. Such man porn. His forearms are a thing of beauty. It’s the couple of buttons undone revealing his throat and a patch of his chest that get me, however. Something about his muscular neck just does it for me. Makes me want to use my tongue and teeth on him.

“You do realize I know you’re thinking about sex when you look at me that way,” he says in a calm voice. “I have a sneaking suspicion you do it more often than you realize.”

My mouth opens. Then it closes again because sometimes saying nothing is best. Take now, for instance.

“If I could have your full attention, please,” he says. “My eyes are up here, so stop staring at my chest.”

I do not blush. “Get on with it.”

“I don’t want there to be any miscommunication between us,” he says. His eyebrows are drawn together just a little. Just enough to let me know he is serious. “Before I address anyone’s feelings, let’s cover the basics. I can’t make the press leave you alone, and you don’t want to deal with them, which is fair enough. Those dickheads are a nightmare. Being famous is a part of my life I can’t control. But us being friends we can attempt to keep secret so that aspect of my life isn’t disrupting your life any more than necessary.”

“You’re not a disruption, Ali.”

“Kind of you to say so. As for my feelings for you?”

“Yes?”

“They’re exceptionally warm and friendly.” He takes a deep breath and steps closer instead. Because of course he does. “And sometimes, like now, they’re a lot more.”

“You’re talking about feelings in your pants region.”

“Yes, I am,” he agrees. “But you do know you’re safe with me, don’t you? I would never deliberately hurt you. You know that, right?”

I nod.

“As for this situation here... You tried to tap out. Said you didn’t want to shop anymore. What’s that about?”

“You had Carolina tell on me?”

“Why else do you think I’ve been sitting out there for the last hour?”

“Guess I thought you were guarding your card,” I say. “I can’t believe she snitched. And she seemed like such a nice person.”

“She works on commission. What do you expect?”

“Valid point.”

“Do you think Julia Roberts would walk out before seeing everything? Just give up after only an hour and go home?” he asks with mock outrage. “Is that really the sort of quitter mentality you’re embracing? What happened to being bold?”

“I may only need a few days’ worth of clothing.”

This time his scowl is real. “I’m going to do you a favor and pretend you didn’t say that. There will be no mention of bullshit predictions when you’re meant to be having fun. Am I understood?”

“So bossy. You’re very lucky it works for you. But I think you’re underestimating how much of your money I’ve already spent.”

He shakes his head slowly. Never ever has someone been so disappointed. I am officially the worst. “And you threatened to do my credit card some damage. What a liar you are, Leannan.”

“You do realize I know what that word means.”

“Do you?” he asks with a smile in his eyes. “It’s just a term of affection. There’s no need to get carried away.”

“You use it often, then?”

“No,” he says, scratching at his stubble. No idea if he’s won an award for the most confusing man in the past. But wow is he right up there in the running this year. A definite candidate for top three. “What are your feelings for me, just out of curiosity?”

“I’m hardly going to admit to anything more than friendship with the occasional side of lust now, am I?”

He pauses. “Did you want to? Before I said what I said?”

“I don’t know,” I say, because even bravery has its limits.

“If it makes you feel any better, a relationship between us wouldn’t likely work. As Gael made a point of noting, my success rate is dire.”

I snort. “Everyone’s success rate is dire until it’s not or they decide they’d rather be alone. Not every relationship ends in disaster.”

“Beside the point. I haven’t even considered the idea of us dating because paparazzi hiding in your front garden is a nonstarter.”

“Wait a minute. You would—what?—have to sit down and make your own list to decide whether you wanted to date me? Isn’t that just the sort of thing you know?”

“No. It’s a serious question. I would need time to consider all aspects of the situation,” he repeats. But his gaze drops to the neckline of my bodysuit again and stays there a second or two. Important relationship issues aren’t the only thing on his mind, apparently.

“Hey. My eyes are also up here. You just told me off for playing it safe,” I say. “The hypocrisy.”

“I was talking about you wisely investing in some high-quality lingerie. I’ll have you know I take relationships seriously. So I suppose I could say my feelings for you are unresolved at present.”

The ability to read minds or auras or something would be so useful. Because apart from admiring my cleavage, I have no idea what’s on his mind. Not a fucking clue. “Is this about the soulmate thing? Is that why you’re reluctant to say more?”

“No.” He snorts. “I know you have your concerns, but Winnie the Witch and her predictions are nothing more than a couple of coincidences and a big pile of bullshit.”

“Good Witch Willow,” I correct. “Let me see if I understand what you’re asking. You want me to put myself out there and say I have feelings for you with no guarantee of you reciprocating?”

“Taking risks is part of life. Or you can play it safe. I know that’s more your thing. But I thought you were trying to kick that habit.” He’s taunting me. It’s obvious in the way he steps closer with a hint of a smile. “What do you say? Am I wrong about you only wanting great sex?”

“You still haven’t proven you can deliver. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“This again,” he says with disgust.

“A solid love of research is at the heart of every librarian. And information-wise, you’re giving me nothing. Zip. Zilch.”

Him and his ego will never cease to amaze me. His gaze goes hard, and his lips are a thin unimpressed line. But he doesn’t say anything. Is it wrong that his mean face thrills me? We must buy the bodysuit now. He and his general hotness have made me soak through my thong.

“Let’s deal with this once and for all, shall we?” he asks with the fakest smile. The curve of his mouth is a facade and more than a touch malicious. He grips my hips and turns me to face the nearest mirror. Then, with him pressed hard against my back, he walks me closer. “If you would stand over here, please.”

“What are you doing?”

He sniffs the curve of my neck, taking me in with a deep breath. “Fixing your lack of faith.”

“As fun as it is to get you all riled up, we can’t do this here.”

“Carolina won’t come back in until one of us calls for her. There are no security cameras. No one will know what we do.”

“Ali...”

His hands slide up my sides, fingers trailing down, tracing the edge of the lace to between my breasts. And I watch their path in the mirror. There’s something hypnotizing about standing passive in his arms while he explores me. How his fingers follow the edge of lace back up to my shoulders. And there, they stop.

He inserts a fingertip beneath one thin strap and drags it slowly over the slope of my rounded shoulder. But the bodice of the bodysuit defies gravity and stays put. He grunts in dismay and gently tugs the strap down a little lower. Nope. Too much for me, apparently. I slap my hand over my breast and hold the thin material in place.

“Well, that’s not helpful,” he chides.

“This is really not the place for this.”

“Nonsense. We’re fine. I think we look good together,” he says, meeting my gaze in the mirror. “Don’t you?”

The palm of his hand slides over the back of mine in a tantalizingly light caress. He strokes my skin as if I need settling or soothing. I suppose I do. Then he rubs his cheek against my hair as if he’s scenting me. All I can do is feel him...the fine cotton of his shirt against my back and his hardening cock against my ass. The restrained strength in his arms as he holds me against him. My breath doesn’t stutter, however, until he wraps his fingers around my neck. Just holds me in place, his hand a brand against my skin. I can breathe, but his grip is good and firm. And all the time, he keeps watching me in the mirror, gauging my reactions.

“Should have known you were a control freak,” I say, attempting a little levity.

His grin is sharp and sudden. “Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

“Ali...”

“Put your hand down, please.”

And I do. Shit.

“Thank you. You’re such a good girl, Leannan.”

The words send shivers up my spine. Though it’s more than just the words. It’s him and the position he’s holding me in and everything. This is... I don’t know what the fuck this is. But he has my full and complete attention. I don’t think I could be more in the moment.

My pointed nipples are obvious to one and all beneath the thin material. The situation only gets worse when he trails his knuckles back and forth over them. Something inside me coils hotter and tighter with each touch. It’s a unique sort of torture, and I wouldn’t stop it if I could. The tips of his fingers slide over the smooth material. Over my belly and teasingly lower before heading back up to cup the weight of one of my breasts.

“I like your body,” he says casually. Just making conversation. “Very much.”

“I like yours too.”

He slips his hand beneath the fabric of the bodysuit to continue cupping my breast. That side still has the strap in place. Though with all the maneuvering, the other is slowly sliding down, about to expose me. The pad of his thumb toys with my nipple. It kind of kills me the way he takes his time. How he builds me up higher and higher. I am a raw nerve on the edge. Each sensation takes me over. The heat of his hand and the calluses on his fingers. His hand tenses around my neck, tightening for a moment. As if I had forgotten he was the one in charge of this situation. Not likely.

By the time he slides his hand out of the bodice of my bodysuit and makes his way south, I am almost shaking. The tension building at the base of my spine, deep inside of me, is so intense. It might have been years since someone touched me. That’s how it feels. His sure touch and heated gaze are everything. He cups me between the legs. Just covers my sex over the top of the silky material.

“Are you watching?” he whispers. “Do I have your full attention?”

“Yes, but...Ali...”

“It’s just you and me. You’re safe with me, Lilah. You know that, don’t you?”

I worry over it for a moment. But he’s right and I nod.

“That’s lucky,” he says. “Because there was no way I was going to stop now. I’ve been wanting to get my hand between your legs for a while now.”

I don’t know about that. But his fingers tighten around my neck again. A warning or a reminder. No idea which. Then he starts gently grazing the heel of his hand against my mound. But it doesn’t stay easy for long. His big hands make short work of me. Everything in me responds to him. A sheen of sweat breaks out across my body. One hand holds me immobile while the other rubs and coaxes until I come. Until the tension inside me grows too great. My thighs squeeze his hand tight and my insides spasm as I clench on nothing. The orgasm shakes me, radiating out from my core. And he holds me all the while, his dick hard against the small of my back.

“Fortunate you’re not a shouter,” he whispers, his breath warm against my ear. “But we will work on that for future reference. As a woman in today’s society, it’s important to make yourself heard.”

“Fuck,” I gasp, working on catching my breath.

“Now, that would be going too far. We can’t do that here, Leannan. Show some decorum.” He fixes the fallen strap and watches me in the mirror. “To think I got you off over the top of your clothes too. Below the waist, at least. No more doubting my ability to give you good sex. You’ll have to think of something else to give me shit about. I have every faith in you and look forward to finding out what it will be.” He stops and takes a deep breath. “Right. I need to go look at spreadsheets for a while to calm me down. You let Carolina know she can come back inside when you’re ready. Do find out if that comes in other colors, please.”

“Ali,” I say, still catching my breath.

He settles himself carefully back on the couch. There is wincing involved. “Yes?”

“It was never about the press. I mean, they wouldn’t bother me. Or I would learn to get used to them if... You know.”

He turns statue still. “No. I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”

Attempting to think after an orgasm of this magnitude is tricky. Same goes for laying my heart on the line. But I do my best. “It’s not fair on my neighbors to have paparazzi hanging around. There’s no security at my building, so we would have to find a way around that. If we decided to do the dating thing. If that’s something we wanted to do.”

I don’t say it would only be an issue for a couple of days. It would only make him upset. But the fact that there’s a limit on our time together is foremost in my mind. I am an idiot for not jumping him last night. Anxiety and body issues and everything else be damned.

Meanwhile, he just sits there staring at me.

Which doesn’t ramp up my nerves at all. “What I’m trying to say is you’re worth any hassle or disruption. Of course you are. Please don’t think otherwise.”

For a moment, we just stare at each other.

His smile is slow and beautiful and lights up my whole damn world. The emotion in his careful expression can’t be concealed. He needed to hear this just as much as I needed to say it. “All right, Lilah. I won’t think that. Thank you.”

I smile back at him, and the moment is perfect. It’s like something out of a book. One with a guaranteed happy-ever-after. Something I don’t have in this situation, sadly. But protecting my heart from him isn’t going to work. I don’t know why I thought it would. Fuck it. There’s a chance I’ll be dead soon. We all die sometime. Why not make my time count? If he decides against us getting together, it will hurt. But everything hurts now and then—it’s how you know you’re alive.

He raises an eyebrow in query. “What does that look mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Come home with me after this,” he says, his gaze back on his laptop screen.

“Aren’t you sick of me yet?”

“No,” he says. “And if you’re with me, I don’t have to worry about you suddenly deciding to go storm-chasing or snake-charming or I don’t know what.”

“There are so many rude jokes I could make right now about snake-charming, but I won’t. I would, however, like to point out it was only one skateboarding class and a very small tattoo. Hardly living-on-the-edge type stuff,” I say. “Are you sure you don’t need alone time to think about whether you want to date me or not?”

“It seems to me, Leannan, that the best way to see if we should spend more time exploring our feelings is by going on an actual date. Dinner, drinks, the usual. Then tomorrow we’ll take the convertible for a drive. I know a place that does mud baths an hour outside the city. It wasn’t on your list, but I thought it seemed like your sort of thing. You can slather yourself in the stuff, and I’ll watch and generally be supportive because the idea of covering myself in wet dirt doesn’t appeal. What do you say?”

My heart bangs against my breastbone. Like there isn’t enough room for everything he inspires inside of me. The last thing Josh planned for me was to pick up his laundry. But here Alistair is, going above and beyond on the regular. And the things he does... They’re a lot.

“That sounds great,” I say, definitely not getting all emotional. “But I thought you only borrowed the convertible?”

His gaze returns to the laptop, and there it stays. “You liked it, so I decided to keep it. Had a feeling we might want to use it again.”

“You kept the car? But you were so pissed at me that day. And most of the one after.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he says briskly. “That reminds me, we should talk about what you’re going to get to replace the Prius. I was thinking something like a G Wagon. Big, boxy, extremely safe. Did you know you can even get those armored?”

“There’s no way I’m spending that much on a vehicle. I’ll also have you know I am usually an excellent driver.” Not that it’s likely I’ll even need another vehicle. But again with the not saying the part that upsets him out loud.

“Of course you are,” he says, smooth as can be. “We can talk about it later. What’s your answer on the date—yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He smiles at his spreadsheets. “Make sure you buy everything you’ll need for an overnight stay.”