12. Loren Hale
CHAPTER TWELVE
LOREN HALE
I rub my lips, not sure what to make of Lily sitting on the toilet lid with her jeans halfway up her ankles. I worry about her heavy breath and the shakiness of her hands. She’s an addict who needs her next fix.
“Lo, I didn’t,” she says again.
And I believe her this time. Tears threaten to spill down her cheeks, and I rush to her before she has a major breakdown. I squat to match her height, and I place my hands on her knees. “Hey, shh.” I cup her face and rub a fallen tear with my thumb. “You’re okay.”
She shakes her head.
“Can you wait?” I ask her. “You have five more hours.”
She shudders.
I can’t watch her crumble like this. My lungs constrict, my whole chest clenching.
“You should go back,” she says. “You’re working.”
I’ve changed out of the Calloway Couture clothes, and I wear my regular black shirt and jeans.
“They’re writing down the alterations for the other models.
I have time.” I’m supposed to be putting on my second outfit, but Rose is preoccupied with measurements and test shots. She won’t miss me for long.
Lily stares at her hands in her lap, barely meeting my eyes. “I can wait,” she says under her breath, so meek that I don’t believe her for a second.
“Can you?” I ask.
She nods and wipes her nose with the back of her hand. I tuck her hair behind her ear, wanting so badly to pull her into my arms and to make it all better. But that’s not how this new chapter of our lives is supposed to go, is it?
“I didn’t have sex for three whole months,” she says softly. “What’s five hours?”
“This is different.”
“Why?” she asks, her chin quivering. She so badly wants to grab me. I can see it in the way her eyes flit over my body for a brief moment. She catches herself and stares back at the floor.
“Because I wasn’t there,” I tell her. “You didn’t have the opportunity to touch me.
It was easier.” I imagine three months without me was like being locked in a house without booze.
If there’s nothing to drink, then you’re not going to get drunk.
But there are always liquor stores. The same way there are always other guys to fuck.
She also had the option to touch herself, but she’s eliminated that completely. She stuck to her vows.
And I know that if I leave her like this, she’ll break one by masturbating. She can’t last five hours, and she won’t ask me to have sex with her. So she’ll be drawn to the next best thing, thinking that self-love is the right solution. She won’t cheat on me. She’ll just cheat on herself.
So while she sniffs and wipes her tears, I rack my mind for that damn blacklist with the therapist’s rules. My head is fuzzy, distracted by Lily’s constant trembling and the way her knees begin to turn inward.
“Lo,” she cries. “I think you should leave.”
My chest falls. “I’m not going anywhere.”
And before she can refute, I kiss her. I part her lips with my tongue, and she clenches my shirt, her soft moans like thank yous.
Each one drives me harder, and my movements become as hungry as hers.
I lift her in my arms, her legs instinctively wrapping around my waist. And I knock her back into the wall.
Her voice is lost in the base of my neck, her forehead pressing to my shoulder .
“I need you,” she whispers, panicked. “Please…” The fear in her voice cuts a new scar.
“Shh, love.” I rub my hand through the back of her hair, and I nip her ear with my teeth.
She shudders against me. I want her to release, but I feel like there’s no winning with this one.
If I let her go, she’ll masturbate. If I fuck her, she’ll hate herself.
If I make her come, she’ll still be filled with shame and guilt for not lasting five hours.
There is no right answer, no fucking break. And so each stroke against her flesh is seared with tension and a strong ache, my heart pounding like a jackhammer to cement.
And I kiss her again, my lips swelling beneath her eagerness, her insistency to push deeper, to go farther.
She runs her bitten nails across my back, not sharp enough to draw blood, not even long enough to truly scratch, but she digs her fingers into my skin.
She grips so fiercely, as though I am two seconds from dropping her. From saying no.
My brain clicks, and the blacklist isn’t hazy anymore. We can’t do this . I retract my lips from her, and I don’t meet her eyes.
I fucked up.
I want to punch the wall. I want to scream. More than anything, I want to go sit at a bar and forget the road I was about to pull Lily down. What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Lo…”
I bring her to her feet, and she wobbles unsteadily. I keep a hand on her waist, but there’s considerable amount of distance between us.
“What did I do…?” Her high-pitched voice lurches my stomach.
“Nothing,” I say, tucking another piece of hair behind her ear.
“Then we can do something…” She grips my shirt again, clenching the fabric between two panicked fists.
I pry her fingers from me. “We can’t have sex here, and I can’t touch you here either.” But she can’t wait until tonight .
She nods rapidly. And as the news settles with her, she pulls her shoulders back like I’ve seen Rose often do.
She raises her chin, trying to be strong.
Christ, I want to kiss her for it and to apologize for tempting her even more.
I should have taken her to our house where we can have sex.
In fact, that’s what we’re going to do now.
“Grab your stuff,” I tell her. “We’re going home, and I’ll make you come there.” My tone isn’t sexy. It’s clinical. I just want her to be able to wait until we reach our bedroom.
I find her jeans on the ground, and I help put her legs in each pant hole.
“Wait,” she says.
I don’t want to give her the chance to convince me to have sex with her in the bathroom. It’s not happening. I already screwed up by arousing her more—I don’t need to break anything on that blacklist.
Public sex—yeah, that’s not fucking allowed.
I zip up her jeans and fish the button through, towering over her with dominance that makes her squirm. I want to kiss her. God, I just want to hold her. But instead of drawing towards Lily, I have to draw back.
“Wait,” she says again, more forceful this time. She grabs my wrist to stop me. “You’re not going home.”
“I’m not leaving you,” I say. I don’t add that I don’t trust her. Her fingers may slip into her panties; she may give herself what I’ve denied.
“You’re working ,” she reminds me, tears building again. “I’m not ruining your first job.” She inhales a strong breath and adds, “I’ll stay at my desk, and when you’re done working, we can go.”
I hesitate.
“You should only be one more hour. I can wait that long.”
“Plus the ride home,” I remind her.
She nods quickly. “Yes, yes. ”
I like this option. Mostly because Lily came up with the idea, and it’ll lessen whatever guilt she’ll feel for not being able to wait tonight.
“Okay.” I kiss her cheek. And she sighs, but as she walks to the door, the tension becomes apparent in the way her thighs press together.
I lead her out of the bathroom, and we enter the loft space where Trish and Katie fling clothes at one another, fixing the garments on the models quickly. I look around for Rose, but she’s nowhere in sight.
Lily keeps her eyes pinned to the desk and nowhere else. “I’ll be okay,” she says, more to herself than me.
“I know you will.”
I watch her make the short journey to her desk. She slides into her chair and studies her computer screen, focused and concentrated. Maybe it’s all a facade. But I know she’s trying damn hard.