Chapter Twenty-Two Lily
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Lily
W hen Lorenzo walks into Night Cap wearing a shirt that surely can’t be his, I burst out laughing, earning the attention from other tables nearby. I can’t help my reaction, but his bold outfit is too much to bear.
I look over at Manny to find him dressed in one that looks a little too tight on his bulkier frame. Jane seems to appreciate it because I find her ogling his arms, which look more defined thanks to what I assume must be Lorenzo’s shirt.
Part of me wants to bring up the suspected shirt swap in conversation, but I’m not sure if Jane is aware of it, so I keep quiet.
Instead I jump out of my seat and throw my arms around him. “Love the outfit, baby.”
His hands find the curve of my ass and stay there, claiming me in front of the entire bar full of twenty- and thirty-somethings. “Make another comment about it and I’ll find a better way to keep your mouth busy.”
A pleasant warmth rolls through me at the unspoken promise.
For the love of God, can you control yourself?
Nope.
“What if I like the sound of that?” I brush my thumb across his bottom lip.
“You’re trouble.” His lashes flutter as his eyes start to close.
Fake. Fake. Fake , I chant, like that can stop me from feeling all warm at the obvious sign of his arousal.
At least his reaction to my touch makes me feel slightly less guilty about mine.
When I pull my hand away from his face, his eyes snap open, and like that, we’re back to playing our roles.
Manny takes the empty chair beside Jane, and Lorenzo picks the one to my left.
I give them a little privacy as I look over at my boyfriend , whose gaze is already focused solely on me. “So…strawberries?”
“Lily,” he warns in a voice that should be reserved for the bedroom, because the indecent things it does to my body are not meant for public consumption.
“What? I’m commenting on the pattern.”
“I warned you.” He reaches across the wood table, laces our fingers together, and gives me a squeeze.
Regardless of how many times he holds my hand, it always feels like the very first time—with my heart skipping and my skin prickling with awareness.
“I’m pretty sure I have a dress with a similar pattern somewhere in my closet.”
“You should look for it tonight so we can match for our next date.”
“Since when are we the kind of couple who coordinates outfits?”
“Since you forgot what the colors of the rainbow looked like.” His gaze flickers down to my plain white lace dress.
My heart comes to a complete stop—a full, achy pause before it picks back up, the pace much faster than before.
I never thought Lorenzo paid close enough attention to notice the change, let alone care enough to bring it up.
I’m not sure how to feel about it or the way he looks at me like I’m a mystery he wants to solve; his comment and my lack of a response adding to his collection of clues about why I changed.
“I told you the shirt would be a hit,” Manny says, breaking up our moment.
“I couldn’t agree more.” I rub my hand over Lorenzo’s bicep, drawing goose bumps.
“It was a birthday present.” Manny smiles, and I instantly like him even more.
“You’re about four months early, but thanks,” Lorenzo replies.
“I couldn’t wait.” Manny winks. “As soon as I saw it, I knew you had to have it.”
I laugh while Lorenzo grimaces.
Lorenzo waits until Manny becomes distracted with Jane again to rope his leg around the foot of my chair and drag it until there is no gap of space between us.
My heart beats harder in my chest as I’m hit with the full force of his cologne, and I’m not given any time to recuperate as he leans in and asks, “Do you think this is funny?”
“Hilarious.”
“I look ridiculous.”
I pat his chest. “I think it’s a nice change.”
He shoots me a look. “You can’t be serious.”
“No, I am.” I do a better job of keeping the amusement out of my voice. “You look less…”
“What?”
“How do I put this nicely without sounding mean?”
He leans back and crosses his arms. “I doubt you know how to be mean.”
“Dahlia would disagree with you, especially when we play Monopoly.”
He laughs. It’s strong and hearty, leaving no room for me to question whether it’s genuine or not, and it makes my heart sing.
Danger , my brain blares out, but I’m too busy smiling at Lorenzo to notice it.
My nose scrunches.
He tracks the move. “Tell me what you were thinking and don’t bother censoring yourself. I’m a big boy. I can take it.”
My gaze falls to his muscular arms because yes, he is .
“Lily?”
I look up to find Lorenzo’s lips curling with amusement.
“All right.” I take a deep breath. “You tend to look a little…stuffy? Or perhaps that’s not the right word.”
“Out of place?” Manny intervenes.
Jane makes a face, and Lorenzo notices it immediately.
“You agree?” he asks her.
Jane lifts her shoulders. “I mean, I’m not from here, so who am I to comment?”
“You’re the most unbiased person here, so that’s good enough,” Lorenzo replies.
“Well, I mean, I think mixing it up every now and then would make you seem a little more approachable.”
“What about this says approachable?” Lorenzo motions to his shirt.
“I think you look like you don’t take yourself too seriously,” she says.
“Ah, yes. A trait everyone wants to see in the person running for mayor.”
I jump in. “People here only wear suits for weddings and funerals.”
“But the Ludlows—”
Manny interrupts, “Are known to be a bit…”
“Uptight?” I offer. Snooty. Condescending. Born with a holier than thou pretentiousness that I once mistook as confidence.
Manny nods. “Exactly.”
Lorenzo’s petulant frown makes me laugh.
“I’m not uptight.” His voice is riddled with tension.
“You’re a billionaire, man—”
“Was. I was a billionaire.” Lorenzo’s body is getting progressively stiffer, so I decide to help him in the best way I know how.
“You know,” I say, “we can go shopping this weekend and see what we find.”
Manny hoots. “Yes! My mom knows—”
“No,” Lorenzo and I both say at the same time, making Manny and Jane laugh.
We look over at each other, our eyes both wide.
Manny places his elbows on the table, clasps his hands underneath his chin, and bats his thick lashes. “Look at them finishing each other’s sentences. Isn’t that cute?”
Nope , I lie to myself. Not even a little bit.
I stare longingly at the crowd on the dance floor. Manny and Jane were swallowed up by the large group of people two songs ago, and I haven’t seen them since.
Lorenzo surprises me by asking, “Do you want to dance?”
I arch a brow at him. “Together?”
“No, I was thinking you should go ask the guys who keep staring at you from across the bar.”
I lean into him so I can get a better look at the men he pointed out. It doesn’t take me long to notice the group hanging around the end of the bar, who quickly look away from our table.
I can’t help myself when I ask, “Does it bother you?”
“If they look? No.”
I didn’t expect his answer to bother me so much.
“What did I say now?” he asks, reading me yet again tonight.
“Nothing important.” Which is exactly my problem because part of me wants Lorenzo to give a damn.
I try to scoot my chair farther away, but he drags it right back before possessively wrapping his hand around the back of my neck.
“Look at me.”
I don’t dare take my eyes away from the dance floor.
Lorenzo squeezes the back of my neck again, silently willing me to listen, and because I’m a glutton for his rejection, I follow his command.
“I can’t get angry at them for something I’ve been guilty of.
So let them look. Let them stare . Let them wish they were going home with the most beautiful woman in this bar—in this town —for all I care.
I’ve been there. Many times, in fact, when it comes to you.
So if anything, I sympathize with them because they can want you, but they’ll never truly have you. ”
My stomach, which finally settled down post-Lorenzo last touched me, turns into a giant knot because oh my God. I never expected that kind of response to pour out of his mouth.
Not wanting him to see how much his words affected me, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.
“I don’t know… The blond one is kind of hot.”
A dark look passes over his face. “I’m starting to wonder if you have a thing for blonds.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Only because I’m not one.”
I laugh, and he smiles, and for a second I forget about our goal and live in the moment.
I crack a smile. “You can always bleach it.”
“Would doing so when we’re this close to the mayoral debate be cause for alarm?”
“Absolutely. People only dye their hair or change their clothes if something drastic happens.”
His brows scrunch together. “Drastic?”
Shit . “I mean, I’m talking like from lace to leather or—”
“Color to monochrome?”
Somehow I refrain from flinching. “That’s normal.”
“How about no longer wearing bows or flowers in their hair?” He tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear before teasing my cheek with the tip of his index finger.
“That could be a sign of maturing.”
“Maybe…but I don’t think that’s what happened.”
My hands clench against my lap—something Lorenzo notices since he refuses to let me have a single inch of distance.
I brush him off with “You’re reaching.”
“And you’re hiding something.”
I glance away, unable to stand the weight of his stare.
“Why’d you change?” he asks softly, talking like I do to scared animals in the shelter. Fitting because I feel like a cornered one.
I stand up. “You know what? I am in the mood to dance.” I pause before adding, “ Alone .”
I join a circle of women on the dance floor who I recognize from the running club I was a part of. Lorenzo’s eyes burn a hole into my back as I sway to the music, and I allow myself one single glance over my shoulder to confirm what I already know.
I catch him staring at me while sipping his drink, and I return his burning gaze with a smile before looking away.
With every song, I make more of an effort to push all thoughts of Lorenzo away, only for a pair of familiar hands to find the curve of my waist and pull me backward until I’m separated from the group.
“You’re a tease,” Lorenzo whispers, his voice thick with arousal.
“I’m just dancing,” I say innocently.
“Then go ahead and dance .” He spins me around, his grip punishing as he closes the little gap between our bodies. His thick erection presses into my belly, and my eyes go round.
“I’m waiting,” he taunts, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.
One glance into his cloudy eyes full of promise has me shutting my own, and I lose myself in the music—in the feel of Lorenzo’s hands on my hips, matching my rhythm with his own.
His ability to dance was one of the initial things that caught me by surprise on the night we first met.
He never mentioned it before, so when he found me on the dance floor, I was shocked to learn that the man behind the neon blue mask managed to find the beat to any song and dance in a way that captivated me.
When his mouth starts to follow a path down my throat, I tremble in his arms.
It’s an uncontrollable response, and one I don’t want him reading into, so before he can see the emotions written across my face, I twist around and press my back against his front.
None of this is real.
Our bodies mold together, moving in perfect synchronicity. One of his hands splays across my stomach and secures me to his front while the other brushes my hair away from my shoulder so he can drop another kiss.
Let them wish they were going home with the most beautiful woman in this bar—in this town —for all I care. I’ve been there. Many times, in fact, when it comes to you.
Is that what he’s doing right now? Or is he simply putting on a show for everyone else around us?
It’s unfair, the way my body reacts to his, so I decide to fight fire with fire and spin around, returning his searing kisses and warm touches with my own until we’re both staring up at each other with our hearts beating in perfect, erratic harmony.
His gaze drops to my mouth, and my lips tingle in anticipation.
It hits me that I want Lorenzo to kiss me—not for appearance’s sake but because I crave to have his mouth pressed to mine again.
And that right there is why I can’t go through with it. Not when the line between real and fake is so blurred, I can’t tell reality apart from fiction.
When he dips his head forward and shuts his eyes, I turn mine at the last second so he ends up kissing my cheek instead.
His eyes snap open, and for once the unwavering control he has over his emotions drops long enough for me to see the sting of rejection in his gaze.
I hope he spends the entire drive home wishing I let him kiss me.
I hope he thinks of me when he gets home, especially when he climbs into bed all alone tonight with nothing but his hand to keep him company.
I hope his decision to push me away haunts him and that his regret grows with every fake date we have, until he resents every choice he’s made which led us here.