Chapter 3 Lila
LILA
As I finish my glass of scotch, I steal another glance at him. My savior, the man who rescued me, the man who has shown me more care in the last few hours than I’ve received in the past several years combined.
And his house—damn, it really is amazing.
This gorgeous wood cabin in the middle of the forest is like a little sanctuary away from the rest of the world.
He must be well-off, given that he told me he’s a doctor, but I wouldn’t expect someone like him to have poured the money into a place this… this lonesome.
Especially a guy who looks the way he does.
I mean, he’s a doctor, he’s clearly rich, and he’s hot as hell.
And he can cook. And he’s funny. And he has that beautiful accent to boot.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was sent to help me from somewhere far greater than any place I’ve ever set foot in.
“Would you like another?” he asks, as soon as he notices that I’ve finished my drink.
I nod. “That would be great.”
I’m not used to someone fussing over me like this, but there’s something to be said for it. Even if his fussing extends to the bruises on my arms, the marks Thom left when he tried to keep me from fleeing once and for all.
I don’t want to get into where the bruises came from, not if I can help it. The second this man finds out about what I’ve been through, I’m going to turn into a victim in his eyes, and that’s the last thing I want.
He reaches to take the glass from me, and I’m sure that he allows his fingertip to trace over mine for a moment longer than it necessarily has to.
I press my lips together to contain a little grin as he goes, watching as he heads back into the kitchen.
He’s wearing a simple knit sweater and a pair of jeans, but even beneath them, I can see how strong he is. Broad shoulders, thick arms.
He emerges from the kitchen a few moments later with another drink for me. I notice he’s pouring them small, as though he’s making sure that I can’t let my tipsiness get the better of me.
Shit, maybe I want it to.
I have been so careful these last few years, these last few months especially, always tiptoeing around for fear that Thom was going to blow up on me and ruin my day or my year or my life even more than he already had.
There’s a part of me that just wants to forget about all of that responsibility. And in this place, so far from everything I’ve known for so long, perhaps I can.
I watch him as he sinks into the chair opposite the fire once more, the flames picking up the shadows on the sharp planes of his face.
A strong jaw, with dark stubble that’s streaked with gray like his hair, and high cheekbones.
He looks like he could have walked straight off a runway, serving looks for some cozy, sexy men’s fashion brand.
He meets my gaze, catching me staring, and I look back into the fire at once.
“Are you alright?”
I nod. Taking another sip of the scotch, I muster up the courage to respond.
“I’m fine,” I murmur. “Better than fine, actually. It’s just…it’s been a long time since anyone has actually….done anything nice for me like this.”
I feel stupid as soon as the words come out of my mouth.
God, what is he going to think of me? That I’m so desperate that I’ll take even the barest hint of kindness as some grand gesture?
Thom might have had me convinced for a long time that I wasn’t worth the effort, but I had friends before him, a life.
I know that what he did to me, the way he treated me, is not exactly a fair summation of the way the world is going to react to me as a whole.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he replies, voice measured. “You deserve to be treated with kindness. We all do.”
I nod, feeling a flutter at the base of my spine.
He’s right, of course, but I don’t quite know how to tell him that this means more to me than just some random act of stranger-on-stranger kindness.
If it hadn’t been for him, I can only imagine the kind of mess I would have gotten myself into.
I seem to have a bad nose for cruel men, and no doubt I would have ended up in the back of the car of someone who would see my vulnerability as something to exploit and use against me.
“Yeah, but not…not everyone would have done what you did to help me,” I tell him, my voice hitching slightly. “You deserve to be thanked for that.”
“I didn’t do this because I expected any kind of thanks,” he replies with a slight chuckle, as though the very notion of it is ridiculous.
“There are a lot of people who would.”
“I’m not one of them.”
He speaks firmly, like he wants to put this conversation to bed once and for all.
My toes curl against the shag carpet over the polished dark wood floor.
There’s something so attractive to me about how sure he is of himself, how little he needs me to tell him what a good person he is.
Maybe it’s because he’s a little older, a little more comfortable in himself than people my age, but he seems settled in his energy in a way I’m not sure I’ve ever seen before.
“I guess you must get a lot of that at work, right? Being a doctor?”
He nods. “Sometimes. I don’t think all of it’s earned. I’m just doing my job.”
“Well, most people, they couldn’t even imagine doing something like that,” I go on. “They look at you, and they see someone who has dedicated their whole life to doing what’s right, protecting people, healing people… I think that’s the kind of thing that deserves gratitude.”
His eyes scan mine for a moment, perhaps noticing the slight shift in my tone as I talk to him. God, those eyes—green, with flecks of gold that seem to glisten in the light from the fire. They seem to carve right through me in a single motion. Does he have any idea how good he looks right now?
I take another sip of the drink, mustering up all of my courage.
“And I think that deserves…deserves gratitude. That kind of kindness.”
Before I know what I’m doing, I’m setting the drink down on the table beside me, rising to my feet and moving closer to him. I sink down on the arm of the chair, and he gazes up at me, his face unwavering.
“And how, exactly, were you planning to thank me?”
I reach out. With a trembling hand, I touch his face. I can’t believe I’m doing this, but there’s no way that I’m ready to stop.
“I think you know.”
He doesn’t pull away, but he makes no move to get any closer.
He murmurs, “I don’t want you to do this just because you think you have to make it up to me for the trouble.”
“I’m not,” I whisper.
I don’t know if I can even express to him what’s really going on inside my head, where this wellspring of desire has come from.
I haven’t had someone care for me like this in a long time, and the feeling of being looked after, looked out for, without anything expected in return, it’s…
intoxicating. The sense of safety has unlocked something within me that I thought had been shut off for good.
I was on edge every moment, looking out for the next match that would spark an explosion, and here, now, I finally feel like I can put it all down.
He reaches his hand out for me, letting it trail along my face, his fingers resting on my chin as he gazes at me. And then, at last, he moves his mouth to mine and kisses me properly.
As soon as his lips find my own, it’s like two ends of a fuse have come together, electricity coursing between us in an unrestrainable current.
He draws me into his lap, arms wrapping around me, his hands in my hair.
The scent of his aftershave, as deep and woody as the scent of the fire, fills my senses, and I press my hands into his chest, feeling the thud of his heart beneath his shirt as though he’s been waiting for this since the moment he laid eyes on me.
He deepens the kiss, his tongue parting my lips as he draws me in even closer.
Now that he has my permission, he’s not willing to hold back for another instant, a low growl sounding at the back of his throat as our tongues meet for the first time.
I can taste the scotch on his mouth, but more intoxicating than that is the feeling of this man wanting me just as badly as I want him.
He rises to his feet suddenly, tucking his hands beneath me to keep me upright as he carries me to the bedroom. I wind my arms around his shoulders, marveling at the feel of his muscles beneath his sweater, already undressing him in my head as I ache to see more.
He pulls back for a moment, meeting my gaze, and something sparkles in his green eyes that makes the warmth in my belly explode to consume my whole body at once.
Kicking open the door to the bedroom, he moves inside, striding with such purpose it seems a miracle he was able to restrain himself this long.
He lays me down on the bed carefully before he moves on top of me, catching my face in one hand and sliding the other beneath my shirt to brush his fingers over my swollen nipples.
I gasp into his mouth, and he gently catches my bottom lip between his teeth, tugging on it lightly. I can already feel his hardness nudging at my hip, practically demanding attention. My body rises to meet him, grinding against him even now, aching to feel him inside me.
“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he rasps. The gentleman he was is now all but forgotten as he drags his lips along my neck. I sink my nails into his shoulders, feeling the flex of his muscles, and grope for the bottom of his sweater so I can pull it off.
My hands are shaking so much that he has to take the initiative for me, sitting astride me and pulling off his top.
I groan at the sight of him, hand tracing down the sinewy muscle of his chest, the smattering of gray hair over his torso.
He dives back down, kissing me harder, our mouths coming together like we’re trying to invent a whole new language with every second our tongues meet.