Chapter 4 Lilly
FOUR
LILLY
I get ready for the day, but my mind keeps recalling our conversation from last night.
I wanted to confess everything. That it had nothing to do with him but with my ingrained fears and makes me question why his being a football player goes against my principles.
That I love my dad, but he was never there, and it carved a hole in my heart, shaping me into a woman who craves security.
His football career always seemed like his biggest calling, leaving me with the bitter taste of not being enough.
Ian is the one guy I would not recover from.
I couldn’t say no then, even though I had never acted that boldly before.
My two boyfriends were people I knew, and the relationships developed over months.
But with him, one glance, and he pulled me into his intricate web of sinful promises and even more decadent pleasure.
I didn’t even tell him about the biggest hurdle—my dad.
Telling my father that I am interested in his star quarterback wouldn’t go over well.
Ian doesn’t have to know there’s more behind my reservation. It wouldn’t change a thing.
At the shop, the buzz of customers and orders keeps me busy throughout the day.
I love what I do. Seeing the excitement in our customers’ eyes and hearing those pleased sounds when they taste their drinks motivates me to push through.
It’s late when I close the shop, and my best friend loops her elbow around mine as we walk to my car.
“You’ve been awfully quiet today,” she says, gauging my reaction.
I shrug, unwilling to talk about Ian and living in limbo for the last few days.
“We’re going for drinks,” Kat proclaims and drags me toward a cab instead. Saying no to her would lead to nothing but me ending up in the bar anyway. She’s persistent like that, making her a great business partner. We complement each other well.
In the chic bar with bottles lined along a mirrored shelf, round lights hang from the high ceiling, reflecting on the polished floor. It has an industrial touch with steel, wooden accents, and velvety furniture, creating a modern yet edgy atmosphere.
We flop on the soft barstools and order a round of cocktails.
I am on my second drink, playing with the straw, when I finally spill my guts. “He asked me why.”
She takes a sip, gesturing for me to continue.
“I told him.”
“And?” she asks, impatience ringing in her voice.
I sigh, deflating. “And he looked disappointed. But he doesn’t understand…”
Tilting her head, she taps her finger on the bar. “Maybe he would if you were honest.”
“Knowing him, he would persuade me to ignore everything else. He’s just so much. And my dad is his head coach.” I close my eyes for a second, a shiver slithering down my back.
She shrugs, flicking her wrist. “Okay, then move on. You’re set on seeing obstacles, so no point dwelling on the impossible.” Inconspicuously, she jerks her chin toward someone behind me. “There’s a cute blond guy over there looking at you.”
I don’t even glance his way. “Not interested.”
She groans. “Yes, because you’re fixated on Mister Hottie. Like, girl, I understand the catch, but I would so go for it.”
I smile, remembering how she broke up with Theo, her high school sweetheart, thinking they had to go their separate ways because she wanted to remain here, and he got a scholarship in Seattle. One week later, she was like, “Fuck this, we’ll make it work.” They have been steady ever since.
After my third cocktail, warmth settles in my stomach, my mind floating in a sweet buzz. That’s my cue to go home.
When the cab pulls in front of my building, I catch my foot as I climb out, steadying myself at the last moment.
Inside the elevator, the buttons double in front of my eyes as I try to find the one for my floor. The elevator halts on every level until I reach mine, and I stumble right into a hard chest.
His calloused hands wrap around my arms, catching me, and goose bumps bloom over my skin, tingling with desire for more of his touch. That night, Ian made me feel so good. I came twice, even though I usually struggled to orgasm once. His face is the only recurring image I masturbate to.
“I had three cocktails.” I lift my hand, but I have no idea how many fingers I hold up.
Brows furrowed, he takes me in, and I blurt out, “You have the most beautiful eyes ever. I blame those dark blue eyes. They remind me of the sun setting, kissing the deep end of the ocean.” I squint. “Why are there so many of you?”
My knees weaken, and he gathers me in his arms, grunting. “You can’t hold your liquor.”
He carries me toward my door, and I snuggle into his chest. I could live here, in his heady scent, surrounded by the warmth his body emanates.
I close my eyes, tiredness dragging my lids under when he says, “Keys.”
“Purse.”
He shifts me so he can rummage through my bag. I hear the jiggle of keys and when he brings me inside, I touch his cheek, sliding a finger down his neck.
“Bedroom?” He growls as if in pain.
Ugh, why does he have to interrupt me from exploring him?
I point toward it and when he places me down in my bedroom, I don’t like it at all. The bed seems so far away. I lean back against the wall by the door to support myself. Everything spins and blurs, so I close my eyes for a moment.
“I could have hooked up tonight, you know?”
He crosses his arms, spearing me with a heated glance that does funny things to my insides.
“Why didn’t you?”
“I would only be disappointed.” I spread my arms as wide as I can. “You set the bar way too high.”
My bed looks so inviting. It would be even more so with him on it.
A smile teases his lips. “Good to know. Will you be all right?” he asks, worry threading in his deep voice.
“Where are you going?” I gulp. I don’t want him to leave.
We draw close once again as we talk. My hand lifts to his chest, where it rests, as if to stake my claim on him.
“Meeting with a friend.”
“A woman?” I shriek—the high-pitched tone betraying my unease.
His arm snakes behind my back, low enough that it’s half covering my ass as he pulls me to him. “I don’t have female friends.”
“I want to be your friend,” I say, licking my lips.
In an instant, he cages me in between his hard chest and the wall—my heartbeat skyrocketing. Lowering his head, he nuzzles my neck, inhaling me, setting my hormones on fire.
“Do you, now?” His deep, husky voice is like an open invitation to indulge in the forbidden.
Without leaving me time to react, he scoops me up and drops me on the bed. I squeal, bouncing once, and he crawls on top of me.
My body temperature rises to scorching. Please ease my need.
“Could you be just friends with me?” His voice is a silky rasp that has me squirming, filling me with carnal need. I ache everywhere.
What was the question again?
The alarm blares through the room, jolting me awake. I don’t think I slept for more than a few hours. Perfect.
Peeling one eye open, I try to locate my phone to make the grating sound stop. My head throbs like crazy.
Ian’s scent lingers in the air, and my headache is instantly forgotten. On my nightstand lies a glass of water and an aspirin. He must have put them there, scattering my wayward emotions in a hundred directions.
Picking up the glass, I rinse my dry throat, swallowing the pill and water in one go.
I roll out of bed, take a lukewarm shower, and try to piece the puzzle of last night together. That’s why I shouldn’t drink more than one cocktail. It leaves me wondering if I said something inappropriate.
Running late, I dress in a hurry, grab a banana from the basket in the kitchen, then dash for work, hoping I make it on time.
I jab my finger on the elevator’s button, urging it to finally arrive when Ian’s door opens. My heart bungee jumps from my chest to my stomach, making me dizzy.
“Morning,” I say cautiously, watching for his reaction.
“Morning,” he says, giving nothing away. Ugh.
I sway on my feet. “Thank you for last night.”
“What are good neighbors for?” he asks, voice dripping with innuendo.
If I hit on him, I will die of embarrassment. I am also fairly certain that carrying your drunk neighbor to bed is not part of the job description.
The doors slide shut, trapping us inside. The invisible cord sizzles between us, urging me to latch onto temptation.
“Did you dream something nice?” he smirks, arching a brow.
I must have said something, clearly.
“You can’t hold whatever I might have said against me,” I say with fake confidence.
He runs his thumb along his bottom lip, eyeing me. How I’d like to bite into it.
“Hmm, what’s the saying? How children and drunk people always tell the truth…”
My mouth opens and closes, no reply forming.
A lopsided grin stretches the corner of his mouth. “You don’t remember, do you?”
I catch my mortified face in the mirrored wall, and he chuckles.
I can’t shake the impression he enjoys my torment. Steeling myself, I say, “Okay, tell me. What did I say or do?” Not knowing just adds to my mortification.
But the elevator doors open, interrupting our moment.
He gestures for me to walk out, saying, “Have to go to practice.”
I gasp. “And you’re leaving me hanging?”
I said the wrong thing because his posture stiffened. “Don’t dish out what you can’t take.”
So, he’s still mad about that.
Outside the building, I watch him climb into his SUV, driving away.
My heart twists and bends with longing. I need a new place. I can’t see him daily and stay strong. He’s the epitome of temptation, and I’m too weak not to indulge in the forbidden. Everything in me wants him, even though everything in me knows I shouldn’t.
At the shop, I meet with a representative of a gym chain that’s interested in offering our drinks to their customers.
I show him around, telling him about our vision and our promise to serve drinks made from strictly organic fruits and vegetables. We’re pricier because of that. I am grateful for every customer who pays what I consider a fair price. And when he places the first test order, I pocket it as a win.
Kat and I are toasting in the shop’s kitchen to our new deal with an energizing shot of apple, carrot, and ginger.
“We cater to a special segment. We need to identify those wanting organic products,” Kat suggests. “I’m going to create a new list of potential customers.”
With a partner like her, I count myself lucky.
I move to the pantry, checking off items on the list and taking inventory, when Kat walks inside.
“I’m leaving for a four-day weekend. But if something happens, call me.” Her eyes sparkle and she says, “Theo booked a weekend in Seattle.”
My eyes widen. “Do you think…?”
Her face radiates and she nods. “He’s been all nervous and stuff. And if he doesn’t ask me, I will ask him. I want to call him my husband already.”
Placing the tablet on the shelf, I hug her. “I’m so happy for you.”
Those two belong together; I’m thrilled she’s starting this new chapter.