10. Lemon #2
“That’s okay,” he says, validating my feelings. “This dynamic is new to you. It’s new to me too, but in a different way. I’ve always known what I wanted, but this is the first time I’ve found it. Both of us will need some time to adjust to our new normal.”
Who is this man and why does he seem to have all the answers? Why is he so confident and sure, and why is his surety starting to make me feel that way too?
“Who am I?” Atticus whispers, keeping his voice low enough that only I can hear him.
“Sir,” I say without thinking.
“Whose Sir?”
“My Sir.”
“Yours,” he agrees, lowering the hand on my cheek down to my neck, his pinkie curling beneath the cool gold band hanging there.
Slowly dipping his face, I wait for his lips to find mine. The moment his mouth touches my lips, I open, inviting him in, inviting him to take control. He does, sliding his tongue into my mouth as he tugs on the chain around my neck, holding me gently but firmly in place while he kisses me.
His hold feels the same way it did when he touched me yesterday and through the night to this morning—firm, but gentle, carefully taking away my choice and making me crave it. I can’t explain why I like it, but I do. I enjoy the feeling of relief that settles over me when I’m beneath his touch.
Pulling away, he leaves me wanting more, my eyes reluctant to open. Something about him makes me want things I didn’t realize I’d enjoy, like willingly giving myself over to his command.
“How did I find someone as perfect as you?” he murmurs softly, curling his arm around me and keeping me close, like he can’t bear to be too far away.
“Maybe it’s drugs? Or a chemical leak?” I suggest with a giggle.
“My sister mentioned there might be something in the water here.” He chuckles. “But I’m not sure I care how we found each other. I’m just grateful that we did. I’m going to make you so happy, Lemon. I’m going to take care of you all day, then own you all night, every night.”
Gulping thickly, I tip my head back to look up at him and find his hot, intense gaze focused down on me.
Is that what I want? To be owned by him.
I’ve never considered myself the type of person who would care for someone who wanted to own me rather than love me.
But maybe Atticus could be the one who does both.
My mom never found her happy ever after.
She dated a little, but the couple of men who stuck around long enough for her to introduce them to me weren’t the forever kind.
She told me I was the love of her life, so she didn’t have enough heart left to give it to someone who wasn’t worthy.
So in the end it was just her and me, and now it’s just me.
I loved my mom with everything I have, but I don’t feel like loving her has left me with a shortfall of love to give.
In fact, if anything, I feel like loving her has shown me how big and all-encompassing love can be.
And I want that. I want to be all-consumingly in love, and it’s terrifying to think that this man I barely know could be the person I’ve been waiting for.
“What are you thinking, Princess?” Atticus asks, running his knuckle over my jaw before hooking it under my chin. “I think I just saw a hundred different emotions flash over your face.”
“I was thinking about my mom,” I tell him, not lying but not telling him the whole truth either.
“I wish I could have met her. Would she have approved of me? Or would she think I was a drug dealer too?” he asks, smirking amusedly.
“She wouldn’t judge you for your tattoos.
She liked to say that people were the sum of their actions and that family was everything.
There might only have been the two of us, but it was us against the world.
I think she’d have liked you and the way you and Felix and Tori are together.
She always worried about me being an only child. ”
“You’re not an only child anymore. You have a sister and three brothers. I hope they drive you as crazy as they drive me.” He chuckles.
“You’ve talked about your siblings but not your parents. Do you not get along?” I ask, suddenly craving to know more about him.
“No, my parents are great. They got divorced about fifteen years ago, then after Jude and August left for college, they realized they still loved each other and got back together. They’re great people, but they’re more lovable messes than responsible parents.
They’re not the people anyone would go to in a crisis, least of all me or my brothers or sister. ”
“So who would you go to in a crisis?”
“Me,” he says simply. “I’m our family’s fixer.”
“Their fixer?” I question, feeling my nose wrinkle.
“I guess I’m the one we all call if something goes wrong.
It started back when we were kids. Jude smashed our mom’s favorite Christmas tree ornament one year.
He knew she’d be upset and probably cry if she found out it had been broken, so he brought the pieces to me, and I glued them back together.
She still hangs it on the tree every year. ”
“She didn’t realize it had been broken and repaired?”
Shrugging, he smiles softly. “She probably did, but she never said anything because I fixed it. After that, I guess I just became my siblings’ go-to.
Over the years I’ve fixed bad report cards, bullies, asshole boyfriends, and psycho girlfriends.
I meet a lot of people in my job, so when the twins were scouted before the draft, I already knew a few sports agents.
When Felix’s sculptures started getting recognition, I helped him find connections with some gallery owners.
I helped Tori out when she needed a real estate attorney, and I know a handful of contract attorneys that I can call on to look over any contracts anyone might be asked to sign. ”
“So you’re basically your siblings’ boss?” I question with a smirk.
“No.” He shakes his head, smiling softly. “I just know how to fix problems, and if I can’t fix them, I find someone who can.”
“And you enjoy that?”
He nods. “Yes, I do.”
A cold ball of ice forms in my stomach. “Am I a problem that needs to be fixed?”
His fingers are hot when he cups my cheeks and forces me to look at him. “You’re not a problem, Lemon. You’re my reward.”
The server appears at the side of our table carrying our food as I’m trying to process what he just said.
Clearing her throat, she waits for Atticus to drop his hands from my face before she places our food down in front of us.
“I have the waffles and berries and a Denver omelet. Can I get you anything else?”
“No, thanks. This looks great,” Atticus says, all of his attention on me, even as he speaks to her.
“Okay, then. Enjoy your meal.”
The moment she leaves, he leans back into me, so close that I can feel the warmth of his breath on my ear. “You’re mine, Princess, my prize, my gift, my treasure, my most precious possession, and I’m going to keep you safe and cared for and…” He lowers his voice to a gravelly rasp. “Worshipped.”
My entire body heats as warmth starts in my cheeks and radiates outward until I can feel the fervor pulsing from me.
Yesterday, after he told me to kneel for him, he asked to worship me, and worship he did, over and over until I was a mindless ball of pleasure.
Is that why he’s reminding me of that now, to bring this conversation back to sex, to the physical?
“Since the moment we collided, I’ve felt like a dragon who got the perfect golden gift. Do you know what dragons do with gold?”
I shake my head, and he smirks.
“They hoard it. They covet and protect and…worship it. And you…you’re my gold.”
I’m fairly sure that the audible exclamation that comes out of me is exactly how it would sound if falling in love was a noise you could actually hear. Who is this man and what is he doing to me?
“Atticus,” I whisper, unsure what I’m trying to say but needing to say it anyway.
“Eat, because now we’ve found each other, we have all the time in the world to say everything we need to.”
For the first time in my life, breakfast feels like foreplay. When he decides I’m taking too long to eat, Atticus picks up his fork, slices off a piece of my waffle and dunks it in the syrup before bringing it to my mouth and feeding me.
Instead of feeling self-conscious, his attention on me feels decadent. While I chew, he cuts off chunks of his omelet, alternating between feeding me and himself while the restaurant and other diners around us all fade into insignificance.
By the time I shake my head and refuse to eat anymore, my skin feels electrified, and I’m ready to sink to my knees right here and now if it means he’ll sate this need that’s been building inside of me since we climbed into his car.
“Are you ready?” he asks after he hands the server his credit card and pays our bill.
Nodding, I let him take my hand and tug me carefully to my feet.
For a moment I stare at the way our hands look entwined together.
Mine are smaller, my nails painted a soft pink.
His are huge, his fingers and hand a canvas of tattoos that make my mind wander to how sexy we must look when those fingers are running all over my bare body.
After he leads us out into the parking lot, he opens my car door, holds my hand while I climb inside, and makes sure that the full skirt of my dress doesn’t get caught outside once my door is shut.
His smoky cologne hits me the moment he climbs into the driver’s seat and shuts the door behind him.
Inhaling slowly, I fill my lungs with his scent, and unable to resist, I run my eyes over him, painstakingly taking him in.
Instead of wearing ripped jeans or sweatpants like he did yesterday, today he’s clad in black suit trousers with a black button-down and black leather shoes.
He’s probably a little overdressed for breakfast on a random Friday, but the tailored trousers and fitted shirt suit him just as much as his more casual outfits do.