23. Lily
Lily
I went into this with my eyes wide open and kept my expectations low.
One night––and morning––of toe-curling pleasure would’ve sufficed. I’m so giddy with happiness Gage would want to spend the day with me, I’m floating.
Since Jean-Philippe was leading a double life, he kept our outings to restaurants in the area where I lived in Paris, never venturing too far.
It’s only when I found out he had a wife, it all made sense.
The Frenchman kept me as his dirty little secret.
Being seen with a man is a new experience for me.
I might’ve only gotten my V card punched yesterday, but I’m not delusional.
My drop-dead gorgeous bodyguard turned lover is a magician capable of turning my pussy into a waterfall, but the writing is on the wall.
I’m passing through town.
My father is one of his big advertisers.
And Gage Hollingsworth is a certified bachelor.
So that settles that .
I didn’t even want to come to LA, and I was dreading spending time with one of my father’s connections. But something tells me it’s going to be impossible to forget Gage.
I sigh.
A strong hand closing over my thigh forces me out of my rumination.
“Earth to Lily.”
My eyes fly up to meet Gage’s.
“Where were you? I was talking, and the music is playing in the background. Still, you were a continent away.”
“Sorry if I didn’t hear what you said. I was swept away by the breathtaking scenery.” It’s a partial lie. “Photos and videos of the City of Angels don’t do it justice. This is the polar opposite to New York’s concrete jungle.”
He shoots me a dubious gaze.
I respond with an innocent smile.
Gage has been playing the role of tour guide, pointing out landmarks and providing me with Travelocity-worthy facts as we drive around LA.
I was a captive audience until we stopped at a traffic light and my eyes landed on a young couple waiting on the sidewalk, kissing with passion.
Instantly, I was transported to last night.
From there, my overactive mind unraveled.
“If there’s something else you’d rather do, say the word.”
“You mean something other than driving in a pricey navy-blue Wiesmann GT MF4—a sports car I had never heard of until I climbed into it—with the top down, on a spectacular and sunny day, zooming towards the Malibu coast with the most attractive chaperone I’ve ever had? ” I shake my head. “Nah. This is good.”
“I’ve been demoted to chaperone?”
“Chaperone. Bodyguard.” I shrug “Same thing.”
He swings those mesmerizing wintergreen eyes my way, an eyebrow cocked. “I’ve been demoted after I made you come your head off in the shower? If you need me to pull over right this minute so I can remind you I’m far more than a chaperone or bodyguard, I’m happy to oblige.”
Shower sex when the guy is standing up and he’s lifting you in his arms is so damn hot. Another feather in Gage’s sexy cap and another reason for my euphoric Saturday morning.
A wave of lust sweeps through me, causing my nipples to pebble and goosebumps to raise on my arms.
Down, girl.
I just discovered sex, and now I can’t live without it?
My face bursts into flames.
What’s wrong with me?
“Your cheeks are flushing.”
Busted.
“That’s a little caveman-ish.” My voice is weak.
“Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t do it.”
In what parallel universe did I think I was a match for this man?
He has enough balls––literally and figuratively––to do it, too.
Best not to start something I can’t finish. I keep quiet not to worsen my case.
A few orgasms, and I’m Superwoman.
“If you can’t take it, don’t dish it out,” he says.
“Noted.” I nod.
Gage shifts his attention to the road.
I pull my oversized designer sunglasses over my eyes and lose myself in the scenery.
Driving in LA is an indescribable experience.
We left the bumper-to-bumper traffic behind, and now it’s ride, baby ride .
As the road leading to Malibu unfolds underneath the wheels of Gage’s speeding bullet, I take it all in.
Each time I blink, it’s as if I’m trying to capture a snapshot of the city.
If I come back to study in LA, it’ll never be the same.
It’s never as good as the first time.
I fight off a smile at the double entendre.
I pull out my phone to take photos and videos for Nadine.
Save for the horrendous traffic and a few other nightmarish things typical of megacities, I can see why people think this place is Paradise. Sun, sea, surf, sexy people, and the chance of spotting celebrities––unless you’re partying with them at a private affair in a swanky club.
My eyes bounce to the majestic peaks.
I was expecting to see the Pacific Ocean, but I didn’t expect to see mountains. A group of men saddled on motorcycles that look like they belong to another era zoom by. Some are alone, others have a woman clinging to their back.
Wicked.
Does Gage own a motorcycle?
Not that it matters. I’m way too much of a chicken to ride on the back of a motorcycle. I prefer to be encased in steel when I’m on the road.
I tap my foot and bob my head to the tune playing.
Catchy.
This is the perfect day.
There are plenty of sunny days in New York during the sweltering summers, but the sky is never this bright. As my eyes stretch to the horizon, I spot a group of surfers riding a wave.
So cool.
California sure is beautiful.
Unable to help myself, I steal a glance at another beautiful view.
Long gone is the morning stubble. He’s clean shaven and hot as ever.
While I was getting ready, Gage drove back to his place for a change of clothes.
He traded what he was wearing yesterday for another casual yet smoking hot outfit––black jeans that mold his muscular thighs to perfection and a blue shirt with a purple undertone that makes his green eyes even more seductive.
Not that I know how that’s even possible.
My suitcase is still a no-show.
At this point, I’m certain it traveled to Australia.
Thank God, I had something suitable for our outing.
I opted for a cobalt-blue midi skirt and a white flowy sleeveless top with a sexy V-neck.
When it comes to footwear, Gage and I match.
I went with a pair of silver Converse I bought during my shopping spree.
He’s rocking a pair of cool high top custom designed ones.
He catches me ogling. “You like what you see, princess?”
Yes. I. Do.
I don’t have a chance to incriminate myself.
The song changes to one of my favorites.
Excitement courses through my body. Before I can catch myself, my hands are over my head. I wiggle in my seat as I sing along.
I’m no songstress, but fuck if that stops me from going for it.
Gage’s head jerks back at my impromptu show.
I move my upper body as if auditioning to be part of a video.
I don’t hold back.
I belt the lyrics to the bridge of Ultra Nate’s song Free .
Gage blinks.
I guess this is a departure from the quiet woman he met yesterday.
I’ve worn shackles my whole life.
This is the freest I’ve ever felt.
I’m going to blame the California sun––and the man sitting next to me––for yanking me out of my shell.
After a pit stop at O’Dwyer’s Fine Ice Creams, we were back in Gage’s Bond car, armed with a cooler bag filled with ice packs and pints of ice cream.
I was dying for a scoop for the road, but my travel companion suggested I wait.
He promised the perfect spot to enjoy our creamy desserts. I took the bait.
I didn’t expect a rest stop along the Pacific Coast Highway to Malibu, but that’s where we are.
He cuts the engine.
He unfastens his seatbelt, shifts in his seat, and pulls his leg up so his body is facing me.
I mimic him.
He pushes his sunglasses over his head.
There’s nothing obstructing his handsome face.
Yesterday, his face was all granite. Gone are the sexy lips pressed in a grim line. Although, he isn’t grinning ear to ear, the hint of softness is so attractive on him.
He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear.
I had it in a pulled back style, similar to what I had it at Rhys’s party, but when Gage came back to get me, he insisted I wear it out. I’m obsessed about having it perfectly straight, but he loves the wave. Since I’m only wearing a touch of makeup, he says it adds to the fresh-faced look.
“I thought we’d enjoy this sunny day and some lunch before heading to Malibu,” he says.
“You grabbed lunch on your way back to the hotel?”
He shakes his head. “I grabbed lunch at the hotel.”
I furrow my brows.
“It’s in the trunk,” he says. “You’re okay with that?”
“I am.”
“Let me come around.” He gets out of the car.
I sit pretty .
He opens the passenger door and extends a hand.
I take it.
A thrill runs through me at the contact. It’s different from the five thousand volts of electricity that zapped through me when I shook his hand the first time we met, but it’s still unsettling.
He helps me out of the car, and we walk to the trunk. He aims the key fob at the vehicle. We watch as the hood of the car retracts. He points the little device towards the trunk. It pops open, revealing a feast.
Wow.
The scrumptious spread makes my mouth water. Same for the aroma.
My surprised eyes fly up. “When did you have time to pick this up?”
“I grabbed the blankets from home,” he says. “As for the food, Michaela suggested I place an order for the Pompadour Hotel’s gourmet picnic basket with a few extra trimmings. Twenty-four-hour notice is appreciated, but the CEO and owner’s wife connected me to the right person.” He winks.
“You texted her?”
“I did,” he says. “It’s easier to go straight to the top. Also, she was happy to hear from me. I reassured her that I didn’t fuck you to the point where you couldn’t walk anymore. She appreciated the heads up.”
I gasp, my hand landing on my chest. “Please tell me you didn’t tell her that.”
“I didn’t go into that much detail, but I told her you were mine for the day. She was glad I didn’t scare you so much, you ran out of town.”