Chapter Twenty-Seven Lorenzo
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Lorenzo
A fter I get up on three separate occasions to check the lock on the door, I climb into bed for the final time. I keep to the right side of the mattress although I prefer the left, all because I don’t trust the flimsy security latch meant to protect us from an intruder.
I’ve seen one too many videos of people breaking into hotel rooms, so the chances of me getting more than a few hours of sleep tonight are slim, especially when I think of who I’ll be sharing a bed with.
If I didn’t care about Lily, I’d choose my own comfort over her safety, but there is this undeniable need to…protect, right up there with my desire to possess . The urge has strengthened with every passing hour of our ruse, and I’m still not entirely sure how to navigate these complex feelings.
There are a few emotions hitting me all at once, and it’s overwhelming after spending so many years on autopilot—existing but never truly living .
Lily, who suffers from the opposite issue, is unaware of my existential crisis. She sings along to a song while she showers, making it impossible to ignore her presence.
Water splashing against the tiles can be heard from the bed, and before I can rein it in, my imagination has a mind of its own and paints a pretty picture for me.
In this fantasy, Lily is standing under the hot spray, completely naked with soap sliding down her body.
Her eyes are closed, so she doesn’t see me stepping into the stall behind her.
She lets out a gasp when my arms circle around her, but it’s quickly cut off by a moan as I slide my hand over her stomach before I finally reach her—
The mental image is shattered when Lily drops something in the shower.
Fuck .
I grab the comforter and yank it up to my chin, silently commanding that my growing problem goes away before Lily steps out of the bathroom.
Despite my best efforts to distract myself, my thoughts drift back to Lily, and I blame her singing. I wish I could say it’s bad, but on the contrary, she has a nice, sultry voice that doesn’t match her bubbly, pink is my favorite neutral personality.
I’m tempted to sneak into the bathroom and shut her phone off, all because I don’t like the idea of her listening to another man’s voice while she’s naked.
With a frustrated groan, I knock my head back against the linen headboard.
A minute later, Lily cracks the door open a few inches and pops her head out. “You good?”
“Yeah. Why?” I turn to look at her and wish I didn’t.
Water sluices down her skin, dripping down her neck before disappearing underneath the white towel wrapped around her.
“I thought I heard a strange noise.”
Just me dying.
Or at least it sure feels that way now. Even though I can hardly see her, thanks to the door blocking my view, I can imagine what is hiding underneath that towel.
The thick white material does a good job concealing her curves, but her makeshift dress slips a little, giving me a glimpse of the tops of her breasts.
It takes every ounce of willpower to rip my eyes away from her. Once the door clicks shut again, I can finally exhale through my nose.
Ten minutes pass, and Lily exits the bathroom wearing a matching PJ set.
There’s nothing inherently sexy about the button-down set with navy-colored ribbons scattered across the white fabric, but my cock doesn’t care.
All Lily needs to do is bite her lip like she is right now, and my heart automatically starts pumping blood to the place it shouldn’t.
Get a hold of yourself . I clench my hand around the comforter as she slides underneath the covers. She smells so damn good from whatever lotion she put on, and it only grows stronger as she tosses and turns in bed.
To distract myself from more thoughts of her, I unlock my phone and fiddle with the settings. The distraction only lasts for a minute until she rolls over and faces me with a huff.
“Can we swap sides?”
“No.” I look over at the door, confirming it hasn’t magically unlocked itself in the five minutes since I last checked.
She frowns. “Why?”
“I like sleeping on the right side of the bed.” Or at least I do tonight .
“Same.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
She gestures between us. “I can’t fall asleep like this.”
“Then it’s going to be a long night for you.”
She groans. “Lorenzo.”
“That’s not exactly how I imagined hearing you say my name in bed.”
“Think about it often?”
“Regrettably.”
That comment earns me a smack in the head with a flying pillow.
I brush my still-damp hair out of my eyes before glancing down at her. She has her hand innocently tucked under her face, looking like an angel despite her wicked throwing arm.
“Do you feel better now?” I ask dryly.
“Nope,” she says, exaggerating the p sound.
I reach over and shut off the lamp, giving her the universal sign for please shut up.
She lasts one whole minute before she speaks again. “What’s the other reason you don’t want to switch spots?”
I don’t turn to face her. “Who says there’s another reason?”
“I know you.”
Those three little words have a massive impact on my psyche, like a wrecking ball tearing through the fortress I’ve built to protect myself.
“So what is it?” she asks, and I wish she’d stop.
“Aren’t you tired?” I follow up with instead.
“It’s hard for me to fall asleep in unfamiliar places.”
“Likewise.” I flop over and stare at the dark ceiling.
“Did you check for hidden cameras?”
“Do you take me for an amateur?”
She giggles, and I find myself grinning at the sound.
“How about trap doors?” she whispers. “I heard a story about a human trafficking ring—”
I screw my eyes shut. “Don’t start.”
“Sorry.” She flips onto her back too.
“What do you usually do when you can’t sleep?” I ask a minute later when I’m no longer tempted to get out of bed and check the lock on the door again.
“Listen to true crime podcasts.”
“Next you’re going to tell me you meditate to murder stories.”
“Only on Mondays.”
I make a noise in the back of my throat.
“Kidding!” She laughs. “I usually fall asleep with the TV on.”
“I knew you were too good to be true.”
She pinches my side, and I’m tempted to snatch her hand—strictly to teach her a lesson about touching me, of course. It has nothing to do with her being the first and only person I like holding hands with. Nothing at all.
“A lot of people do that,” she says.
“I read somewhere that most of them end up single for life too.”
“But not all , which means I only have to find one man who doesn’t mind.” Her grin is so wide, I can make out her white teeth in the dark.
Her comment kills my smile. The thought of Lily falling asleep in bed with another man has the power to squash my good mood.
“Put the damn TV on and go to bed.” I force the sentence out through gritted teeth.
Her smile doesn’t waver as she follows my command. The glow from the TV turning on makes me squint, but my eyes adjust as Lily flips through channels.
She eventually lands on an old rerun of The Silver Vixens , and I don’t protest despite finding the outdated laugh track annoying. Eventually I stop noticing it because I’m paying more attention to Lily’s laughs instead.
I could get used to this , I admit to myself.
After ten minutes, my eyelids start to drag, and next thing I know, I’m falling asleep without a single worry on my mind—a welcomed rarity.
And Lily is clearly the reason why.