12. Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
Lillian
N ervous butterflies have taken residence in my stomach. I haven't felt like this since my first date in college, and the stupid frat boy made it clear that taking me out on a date was nothing more than a dare from his brothers that he wouldn't take the dog out.
I don't like it.
Byron—as he told me to call him—came back to the morgue within the hour, exactly as promised. He took a quick photo of the note Karl had retrieved and sent it off to some kind of gizmo at his office before walking me to my car.
When we got to my apartment, he asked me to wait in the entryway so he could check out my small one-bedroom place first. It was refreshing, cute, and totally unnecessary. But it woke up the stupid butterflies when he grabbed my hand to stop me from walking in, and they haven't stopped since.
I'm well aware of how stupid it is to be crushing on him, but my body is revolting, and no matter how much I'm trying to talk it down, Becky's voice keeps cheering me on.
That little voice in my head thinks I deserve some fun. Some attention. Even just a bit of affection.
That little voice keeps forgetting that my face isn't the only part of me that's scarred. And I'm not just talking about my physical blemishes.
My Dad, the kids at school, at university, and even the dickheads at med school had done their best to mark my soul too. Each cruel word doing its best to break me down and remind me how pitiful I am.
The knock on my hotel room door brings me back to the present, reminding me why the stupid butterflies had taken residence.
"Lillian? It's Byron. The food's ready." His smooth voice only sends the assholes aflutter even more, and I push up from the bed where I've been fretting for the last ten minutes.
"Coming," I call out, grabbing my jacket before smoothing my hair.
He smiles at me when I open the door, his eyes sparkling. "I hope you're hungry. I might have ordered a little too much food. It's one of my biggest faults. Never allow me to get food when I'm hungry."
He beckons for me to go first and shut my door behind us.
"Starving, thank you," I respond, his jovial mood infectious. "What are we eating tonight?"
"Italian. The receptionist has a cousin or friend or something who works at a place close by. They don't normally deliver, but she called in a favor for me."
His room is on the same floor as mine, a couple of doors down, so it doesn't take us long to reach it. Opening the door for me, he invites me to enter before him.
"Good! If it's the place I think it is, we're in for a treat. They have the best lasagna. It's a pity we're not dining there because they have the best house wine."
The delicious smell of garlic and butter wraps around me as I step into the room, and my stomach gives an embarrassing rumble, eliciting a chuckle from Byron.
"Oh, good. You are hungry, too." He smiles, softening the teasing as he rubs his flat abs.
As he unpacks all the containers from the plastic bag, along with some tableware he must have gotten from room service I realize what a huge mistake I've made. I'm handling this like some kind of date, completely forgetting the purpose of the evening.
"Dammit! I forgot my laptop in the room. The whole point of dinner was so I could work through the reports for you!"
Byron frowns at me as he opens the large container of steaming pasta.
"Lillian, I don't expect you to get through them in one night." He leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. He lowers his voice as he shares the next sentence with me. "And I have to admit, I quite like the idea of just sharing a meal with you, Lillian, instead of the very intimidating Doctor Gale."
His words shock me almost as much as they terrify me.
See, Lily. The pretty boys can like you too.
Those stupid fucking butterflies take flight all over again. They're so loud I almost can't hear what Byron says next.
"If I'm being honest, I've been looking for a reason to call you again since I made such a mess of our first meeting."
Becky's voice is laughing in my head, and her obvious enjoyment at the surprising attention is annoying me. Maybe I am going a little insane.
I don't have the first clue what to say to Byron, and the longer the quiet stretches between us, the more awkward it becomes.
"Shit. I'm sorry. I overstepped," he quickly fills the silence. "Please. Forgive me, Lillian. Forget I said anything. I'm an idiot." He pushes away from the table and shakes his head as he takes in the food stacked all over it. "You've got a creep being all inappropriate and sending you frightening messages while we're working on a serial killer case together. I'm crossing all kinds of professional boundaries." He starts closing up the food containers. "Here. Let me walk you back to your room with the food. You can work on the reports. Or not."
I can't help it. This time, it isn't even the Becky-sounding voice that pushes me to do it. But he looks so adorable, flustered, and endearingly awkward that I must put him out of his misery.
I get up from the table, and he steps closer to hand me the bag filled with all the takeout containers. Taking it from him, I step into his personal space, carefully placing the huge bag back on the round table without paying attention to where it lands or if I even get it on the table.
"Maybe inappropriate isn't a bad idea," I whisper, staring at him. My voice is soft, quiet, and wavering just the tiniest bit. "Maybe inappropriate is exactly what we need right now."
And I stand on my toes, bringing my mouth close to his.
Our lips hover less than an inch apart, our breaths huffing out as we stare at each other. Everything inside me begs him to take the next step because as much as I need to kiss him, I can't take that final step. There are too many loud voices in my head to allow me to throw all caution to the wind.
If it isn't for the fact that his eyes are zeroed in on mine, I'd be worried that he's staring at the fine pink lines radiating across my face. And if his chest wasn't heaving with the same suppressing feeling mine is, I might be freaking out that he's just pretending, maybe as some kind of pity thing.
But even with those signs, all the harsh words, all the taunts and jibes are still too loud to allow me the freedom to let go and give in to the kiss.
The tension between us builds and builds until it's a palpable thing you can feel and touch in the room around us. I'm about two seconds away from giving up and stepping away so I can run back to my room to lick my hurt pride when Byron's hands wrap around my waist and pull me flush against him just before his mouth descends on me.
Hungry lips battle with mine, demanding my submission. My arms wrap around his neck, my fingers diving into his thick, soft hair as his tongue delves into my mouth, coaxing a soft moan from me.
Strong fingers dig into my ass, encouraging me to wrap my legs around his hips, which allows me to feel how much he's not pretending.
Byron pulls away, breathless, resting his head against mine. "Fuck," he groans. "You taste even better than I imagined."
I have to say, I agree. My blood roars, and my entire body is itching with a need I've not felt in a long time.
That's a lie. I've never felt anything even close to this.
"Don't stop now," I urge, smiling as he chuckles at my needy tone.
"Lily, sweetheart. Not a chance. The only way I can stop right now is if you tell me no."
His sweet words and using my sister's old nickname for me touch me more than anything has in a long time. Enough to give me the courage to initiate the next kiss.
Byron moans into my mouth as he walks us to the bed and carefully lays me down.
My breath, already coming out in hurried pants, hitches at the hunger in his gaze.