Chapter 14
14
VIOLET
I’m mad and stomp down the stairs while tying my pale-lilac dressing gown around my waist.
The morning sun beats through my glasshouse-style home. If this was my house, I would have half the amount of windows in it. It’s already too hot, making me feel flustered.
At the bottom of the stairs, I turn the air-conditioning down a couple degrees and let out a humph sound.
He left?
Seriously? After what we did last night. In my bed. For hours.
I knew it was too good to be true. He was using me for sex. Pretending to be all, oooh, I’m on a sex hiatus; you’re different; oh, you’re so hot … What a load of baloney that was.
Waking up to an empty bed was not what I expected.
I thought he was better than that.
I’m madder at myself for believing he was different: a good man with a good heart.
Leaning against the wall, I close my eyes and bite my thumbnail .
“Are you sleeping standing up?” Lincoln’s humored voice booms across the hallway and my eyes shoot open.
I was so consumed by my thoughts that I didn’t hear the front door open.
My shoulders drop with relief.
He’s here.
Lincoln is standing inside my opened front door, in last night’s clothes with Pom-pom by his side. Silhouetted by the sun behind them, the two of them look comical together: tall and short.
“You took Pom-pom for a walk?” I’m so shocked. Shocked he’s here, shocked I didn’t notice my dog wasn’t here. I’m a bad dog-mom. Also shocked he took my dog he hardly knows for a walk and shocked Pom-pom went with him.
“Yeah, he was whining, so I took him out. Turns out teacup dogs need little walking. Within fifty steps, he was shattered. I had to carry him most of the time.” He looks down at Pom-pom. “I’m definitely taking him out later. He’s a proper chick magnet.” Lincoln’s megawatt smile lights up his entire face.
He bends down to unclip Pom-pom’s black leather lead from his collar and gives him a good rub behind his ear. Pom-pom tries to jump up onto his bent knee, but he’s too short to reach. They are so cute together.
Visions of Lincoln walking my tiny white fluffy pup make me snort out loud.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” I shake my head and push myself off the wall.
Pom-pom scuttles over to me and I scoop him up and give him lots of cuddles. He smells of Lincoln’s aftershave. I need to ask him what that is. It’s oddly addictive.
“You look shocked to see me.” Lincoln stands to his full towering height, crossing his arms over his chest .
I bite my lip, feeling silly now, and keep quiet, embarrassed for doubting him.
“Ah, you thought I’d left. Did a runner.” He nods his head up and down. “I would never do that to you.”
“It’s just?—”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain. I should have left a note.”
“You should have.”
“I’m not going anywhere, sweet Petal.”
Yes, you are. In just a few short weeks’ time, you are leaving.
Obviously sensing my doubt, he strides over to me and stands at my toes. With no heels on, I’m much shorter than him. His hands I’m now obsessed with cup my face, then he kisses me.
“You look freshly fucked and utterly adorable this morning, Petal.” He kisses me again, much longer this time. “I went to get breakfast and a toothbrush.” He lifts a brown paper sack in the air to show me. Huh, I didn’t notice he was holding that.
“Hungry?” he asks.
“Starving.”
He takes my hand and guides me through the house to the kitchen, appearing to know where everything is.
“You took a tour of my house while I was sleeping, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. You have your code for your electric gate on the wall. You should change that. And I found the key to your front door on the console table in the hall. You make it too easy for burglars. I considered stealing your great-great-great-aunt Brenda’s sapphire engagement ring, the keys to your Mercedes E Class drop top, and your dog, but then thought…” He places the brown bag on my stainless-steel kitchen island and turns himself into a set of human balancing scales. “All-you-can-eat pretty pu ssy for six weeks or prison.” He tilts from side to side like he’s weighing up his options. “It was a tough decision. But I figured I’m too pretty for prison.” He holds his pointer finger up in the air. “It would be sex on tap, but not in a good way.” He shudders.
A chuckle leaves my chest. He is way too pretty for prison. “You are so strange sometimes. And crass.” But he makes me laugh and I love a man who can make me laugh and keep me on my toes. Placing Pom-pom back on the floor, I hop myself onto one of my baby-blue velvet bar stools.
“You weren’t complaining about how crass I was last night. You ain’t fooling no one, Ms. Oh, Lincoln, Fuck Me Harder. ” He raises his voice in a high pitch, mimicking me from last night.
My cheeks grow faintly pink.
“Nothing to be embarrassed about, Violet. I fucking loved it.” He pulls his wallet out of his back pocket—Prada, nice —along with his phone and places them on the counter.
“I’m glad you didn’t steal my stuff. Great-Great-Great-Aunt Brenda would haunt you from her grave if you took her ring.”
He looks at me in amazement. “Do you really have an Aunt Brenda? I was joking.”
I burst out laughing. “I’m messing with you.”
He rolls his eyes. “Very good. I would give anything to have a shot in your car, though. It looks wicked in that pearlescent white color. My dad collects cars.”
“Does he? What does he have?”
Lincoln fills his cheeks with air and then reels off at least ten cars.
Holy shit.
“Your dad drives a P1 McLaren as an everyday car?” I know that supercar costs at least a cool two million dollars.
“Yup. ”
“And what do you drive?”
His voice goes all romantic and gooey as he says, “Porsche 911 GT, in black.” He sighs. “I love her.”
“Miss her?”
“Yeah. Castleview Cove has the best countryside roads. Sweeping curves, quiet cliffside, narrow hills. Perfect for throwing her around.” I think he’s missing home. “Nothing like your big freeways, and our rush hour consists of getting stuck behind a tractor. If that holds you up for at least five minutes, that’s your whole day ruined.” He huffs with fake annoyance, then smiles.
Five-minute rush hour sounds like paradise.
He pulls two fresh ham and cheese omelets out of the bag and hands me one.
“Where did you get these from?” They are still warm.
“Sunrise Snacks, round the corner.”
“I’ve never been there before.”
“You need to get out more. They do amazing pancakes and bacon. So good.” He goes all starry-eyed and proceeds to casually pull out knives and forks from the drawer he’s standing beside.
How did he know they were there?
“Oh, I checked before I left to make sure you had cutlery. You boss-bitch types don’t tend to eat in your homes and work all the time, ain’t that right?” He winks at me teasingly.
“Spot-on. You know me so well.”
Stunned, I stay seated as he hands me a plate and we plate up our omelets together. He places cream and sugar in front of me, then pulls two coffees out of the bag too before he settles beside me.
“I checked your fridge before I left. You had eggs and ham and milk in there, so I am assuming you have no allergies.” He points at my omelet.
I haven’t picked up my silverware yet. I’m too stunned.
“Are you not eating?” He digs into his food.
“Eh, yeah. You are just, well, here, in my kitchen. You walked my dog, and you got me breakfast.” He’s looking after me. No one looks after me. I take care of myself. All the time.
“And…”
“You’re not like other guys.”
“I’m special.” He grins.
He’s not wrong.
I pour a little cream and two sugars into my coffee.
“I have a sweet tooth,” I defend myself automatically.
“Who cares? Eat what you want. Do what you want. Life is too short.” He takes a mouthful of his black coffee. “Eat.” He points his fork at my food. “You’ll need all the strength you can get. I have plans to do naughty things to you all day. Once I pick up my car, drive back to my hotel, shower, and come back here, that is. I hope you don’t have plans.”
I take a bite of my omelet, then another. Wow, that’s delicious. I may have found my new breakfast place.
We eat together comfortably like we have been doing this for months.
How can I have only known him for a few short days?
“I have no plans today. Are you staying at a hotel?” I’m pretty sure Rio said he was renting his spare room.
“Yeah, just one of the cheaper ones. Do you know The Blue View?”
“I do.” And it’s around five hundred dollars a night. “For six more weeks?” My jaw falls to the floor, but he doesn’t pick up how shocked I am.
“Yeah. I’m a man who likes luxury. I couldn’t rent Rio’s spare room anymore. I moved out two days ago. He’s not the cleanest, and he was bringing different women back night after night, and then there were the parties. I like my space.” He swivels his head to look at me, surprise written all over my face. “What?”
“You are spending over twenty-two thousand dollars on accommodation for the next few weeks.”
“You’re quick at math.”
“It’s my strength.”
“It’s not as much as that. They gave me a deal as my dad knows the guy who owns it. I’ve barely spent any money while traveling because I’ve worked a few jobs here and there and that paid for my hostels, motels, and stuff. My plane ticket is already paid for, and I bought my first clothes in months yesterday.” He indicates to what he is wearing. “My car doesn’t count. That was an investment.” He winks. “Oh, and my haircut and shave.” He scratches his now-short scruff and goatee beard.
“I like it. It makes you look even more handsome.”
“Am I handsome?”
“You know you are.”
He shakes his head as if I told a lie. He may laugh and joke, but I sense he has his insecurities too.
“I like you with no makeup.” He puts his cutlery down, then takes a sip of his steaming hot coffee. “You really have no idea how pretty you are, do you?” He runs his tongue across his teeth.
“Is it self-love Saturday?” I quirk a brow.
“Come.” Lincoln pushes his stool backward and jumps off, swivels my seat around, and I hop off mine in the most unladylike manner. “Your place is really cool, by the way. I love your kitchen. That soft blue color is wicked. I might remodel my kitchen when I get back,” he says casually, pulling me by my hand through the house.
Lincoln pulls me up the first flight of stairs and stops when we get to the top. He maneuvers me around, my back to his chest, so we are now standing in front of the mirrored wall on the second floor.
“What are we doing?”
He unties my robe, letting it fall, so it pools around my feet, exposing me in all my naked glory.
I suck my lips into my mouth and fidget. Oh, this feels uncomfortable.
“Look at yourself, Violet,” he purrs in my ear from behind me. “This right here…” He shapes his hand into the curve of my waist. “It’s tiny and I love it. My hands fit perfectly.” He circles both his hands around it. “Your hips are so sexy.” He smooths over my hips that I’ve always considered too big. “You have a body most women would die for.” His fingertips brush my skin and butterflies dance in my belly. “Your skin is smooth and toned; I can tell you work out.” I flinch when he lays his palm over my tummy. “You have a belly. Most women have a belly, Violet, but you seem to think you are different. I saw you looking around last night, doubting yourself, second-guessing your outfit because people were looking at you last night. You got that right; they were staring at you.” He kisses my shoulder. “Do you know why?”
I shake my head, unable to speak.
“Because you were the hottest woman in the club last night. Look at yourself.”
His eyes hit mine in the mirror.
“Your hair is silky smooth; your eyes sparkle when you get excited. I saw the joy in them yesterday when we threw ourselves off that pole. You were so proud of yourself. I was proud of you.”
“You threw me off.”
“Potayto, potahto.” He ignores me. “Your skin glows and you are immaculate from head to toe. Your smile sucks all the air out of my lungs, and this bit here.” He pushes my hair off my shoulder, leans in, and steals a kiss behind my ear, making me gasp. “I love this bit. And this bit.” He kisses my shoulder. Another kiss.
He moves around to face me, and a small tear runs down my cheek. For the first time in my life I feel accepted.
I’m accepting myself for all that I am.
“This bit.” He bends to kiss my clavicle and keeps moving south. He gently pulls my breast into his mouth and kisses my nipple. “Your nipples are the perfect shade of rosy pink and it makes me want to bite them like they are fucking gummy candies.” He nibbles one and a deep ache burns in my core for him to touch me there again. Everything he does makes my body light up like the Fourth of July. “I really wanna suck it hard.”
I want him to do that too.
Standing back to his full height, he kisses my forehead. “I never lie. Every day, I want you to stand in front of that mirror and tell yourself four things you love about yourself. You’ll become less self-critical, your brain will create new neural pathways to self-belief, and you’ll be happier in yourself. It works. I know because I have done it myself.”
“You have?”
“Yes. When I was about eighteen, I went for therapy. It didn’t matter how many times my father told me my mom leaving wasn’t my fault or his, I didn’t believe it. I thought there was something wrong with me and that she didn’t like me. But after following some simple exercises and a few sessions at therapy, some things changed for me. But it began with me. I had to put the work in, figuring out who I was inside and out. Now look in the mirror and tell me what you see.”
I roll my shoulders back, making my boobs pop, and take a deep breath. “I have nice ankles.” I lift my foot up, pointing my toes.
“They look sexy as hell in heels. Next.”
“I like the length of my legs.”
“Mm-hmm. You have great legs. What else?”
“I do actually like my waist. I think it looks smaller today.” I lift my arms out and twist back and forth, checking it out in the mirror.
“And I like my teeth. I have no fillings.” I bare my teeth, displaying my perfect rows of pearly whites.
“You missed one.”
“You said four.” I mentally count again: ankles, legs, waist, teeth. I did four.
“You missed this.” Lincoln slides his hand between my cleavage.
“Trust you to say ‘boobs.’” I tilt my head to the side so he can drape his arm over my shoulder.
“Not that. Your heart, sweet Petal. You, Violet West, have a beautiful heart.”
Hot tears well in my eyes. “I think we met for a reason.” I focus intently on his face.
He nods his head in agreement.
“Does your visa really expire in just six weeks?”
“Yeah.”
“I want to spend all of my spare time with you.” I turn around in his arms and rise on my tiptoes to kiss him.
“Same.”
“Take me to bed, Lincoln. Show me how much you love my body.”
He lifts me into his arms and carries me up to my bedroom where, for the rest of the day, he proves to me just how much he appreciates my body—with his tongue, his mouth.
Everything.