Chapter 18 Lily
LILY
He walked away.
I bite my lip to fight the threatening tears and the predicted rejection. It doesn’t matter how many times he rebuffs me, each time is just as devastating as the first. I squeeze my eyes, the gamut of emotions overtaking me as I hold everything in because . . . I’m not free.
I fear he’s not willing to bend. What will become of us now?
His footsteps come back, but I’m afraid to open my eyes.
The couch cushion dips beside me and Anderson places his hand on my thigh, squeezing it when I refuse to open my eyes.
“Lil?” There’s gentleness to his tone that pulls on so many things within me, so I open my eyes to meet his. He reaches out and frames my face—his thumb brushing away the lone tear I couldn’t contain—and the tenderness in his touch almost makes more tears fall.
“What brought all this on now? Is it because of these?”
He bends over to pick up something off the floor he set beside the couch.
It’s the box from my closet. I stare at him as he takes the lid from it and sets the container between us.
My eyes flicker back and forth, trying to gauge the expression on his face juxtaposed to the quiet ache that the sight of those toys create.
Because now I know how much they can enhance my pleasure.
My cheeks stain red as I stare at them and silently, guiltily recalling those sensations while Anderson watches me—the weight of his stare as he waits for an answer flusters me.
“Yes. No. Yes . . .” I blow out an exasperated breath and look up from where I am fiddling with my fingers to meet the clear brown of his eyes.
“I just . . .” My voice trails off for the first time, losing my confidence.
I look down and see the faded lines on my wrists, and that spurs me on.
“Yes. It’s because of that and so much more.
Like I said, we let life get in the way.
We’ve put everything else first when we should be first .
. . and this, sharing something like this in private is the ultimate trust. I don’t know .
. . it’ll being us closer and maybe open new avenues for us to rekindle that old spark. ”
Anderson gives me a measured nod followed by a full-blown smirk. The one that captured my heart all those years ago when he walked past me in his football uniform during lunch in the quad.
“After this week, us being apart because of work, once again . . . I realized I miss us too,” he says with a nod.
He reaches inside the box and moves items around with an obvious unease, but at least he’s looking.
He falls quiet for a moment before looking up and meeting my eyes.
“I’ve been stubborn. I’ve been so wrapped up in thinking with my ego and not my dick that I’ve completely missed the whole point.
” I suppress the burgeoning hope I feel, afraid to believe too quickly that Anderson might want this too.
“I was lonely as hell in Belgium. I had work and that’s it.
No you. No boys. And I kept imagining what my life would be like if you weren’t there.
It was miserable. It was scary. And so I realized I need to stop and listen to you more, hear how I can resurrect our spark.
I feared all of this meant I wasn’t enough for you, but that’s not what you were saying.
I am enough, you just want more for us. With me. I’m sorry I didn’t hear you sooner.”
The words slip under my skin, but instead of settling, they stir up everything I’ve been trying to bury.
I close my eyes, the tears leaking out because he finally gets it. I hiccup back a sob as relief finally finds its place within me.
With eyes steadfast on mine, he leans in and closes the distance between us. “You know what I think?” he asks, an eyebrow raising and desire darkening in his eyes.
“Hmm?” I can’t speak. It’s been forever since I have seen that cocky look on his face and in a sense, he just gave me my answer without saying a word.
“I think that we should start with this.” Anderson holds up a Lelo vibrator from the box and I groan out softly at the thought. “Yeah?”
I smile. “That’s a start.”
“Well then, it’s settled. I’m going to grab a quick shower, and when I come back into the bedroom, you better be on the bed. Naked.” He presses a hard kiss against my lips. “And ready to get fucked.”
I startle and look at him, seeing the Anderson from many years ago staring at me. “So, you’ll . . .”
“Five minutes.” It’s all he says as he stands up and walks from the room. My pulse races, and the tingling that’s been gone for so long rushes back. My eyes track him as he pulls his shirt off on his way toward the bathroom, disbelief and desire surging within me.
He passes through the doorway, stops, and turns around. “Hey, you never told me, did you get my anniversary present?”
My fingers still on my blouse, and the chocolate-covered strawberries flash through my head along with the unopened card I couldn’t bring myself to read because of the guilt.
“Yes, thank you,” I gush, a little too fervently, before controlling my emotions so he doesn’t know I’m lying. “I forgot when you called to tell you . . . they were so satisfying. Just what I needed.”
He chokes out a cough, covering his mouth to physically stifle the violence of it.
“Hon, are you okay?” I begin to scoot off the end of the bed to help him but he just holds his hand up to stop me.
After a moment, he recovers and angles his head to the side, staring at me with confusion etching his features. “Just what you needed?” The inquiry in his voice has me explaining further.
“Yeah. The chocolate-covered strawberries . . . so delicious.”
“I didn’t send you . . . they . . . those were complimentary from the hotel for our anniversary.” Anderson stumbles over the words, bewilderment etching his features.
Now it’s my turn to be confused. I shift my eyes back and forth as I try to figure out what he’s talking about. “Huh.”
“Nothing else came to the room?”
“No . . . was it . . . I wasn’t there much. Out sightseeing,” I lie. “Maybe . . .” I don’t finish my thought, worried my excuses may tell too much and that maybe something was delivered while I was being held against my will.
“Humph.” He offers a nonchalant shrug that contradicts the beseeching look in his eyes. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, and he just stares at me a bit longer before shaking his head in an amused defeat.
“What was it?” Now I’m curious. His conflicting posture and demeanor have me wanting to know what I missed.
“No worries.” He smirks. “It . . . it definitely wasn’t chocolate-covered strawberries.” He chuckles with a shake of his head.
“Anders—”
The look in his eyes stops me as he stalks toward me in a predatory manner.
“I guess I’ll just have to make it up to you.
Make sure I’m just what you need.” He leans down and presses a kiss to my mouth, tongue delving between my lips to dance intimately with mine.
And just as abruptly, he turns and heads back in to the bathroom, throwing, “Five minutes and counting,” over his shoulder.
I stare at the now empty doorway, my heart swollen with love, and my conscience a little lighter. Wow. I’m in a state of disbelief. Over his apologies, his revelations, his acceptance of wanting more.
I pull my shirt over my head and unfasten my bra as I digest our conversation.
I flop back on the bed and laugh aloud. Our fifteenth wedding anniversary.
Who would have thought that not being together might have been the best thing to help us find each other again?
Completely fucked up, but incredibly true.
I close my eyes for a moment. Images I never saw but can’t erase run through my mind.
My captor called me beautiful over and over again .
. . seeing me naked. I’d been spread out across a large bed, ready for devouring.
And devour me he did. The hot wax dripping on my bare skin .
. . then the heat of his tongue on my nipples.
God, do I ask Anderson if we can try hot wax? Nipple clamps? Ice? There had been—
Anderson’s phone is ringing.
Do I answer it? I never pick it up. Normally, I just tell him someone rang.
I reach out for it and sit up when I see the phone number. +39 06 49 1255. Is that the Italian country code? My mind immediately thinks the hotel is calling because they found whatever gift Anderson sent me.
“Hello?”
“Ciao. This is the Enzo from Hotel Mulino di Firenze.”
The back of my neck prickles. I tighten my grip on the phone.
“Hi, yes. What can I do for you?” I ask, toeing off my shoes as I wait for the response.
“You recently stayed with us in our presidential suite, si?”
“Yes, but not in the suite. I was in room 403—”
“We found a bracelet under the bed when the suite was cleaned that we think belongs to you.”
“Bracelet?” Relief flows through me. I completely forgot about my bracelet, my mind so overwhelmed with processing the last seventy-two hours.
But now that I’m reminded, I’m relieved they found it.
Now I don’t have to worry about having to explain to Anderson that I lost it.
“Thank you so much . . . but I wasn’t in the presidential suite. ”
“I must have called the wrong number then. Let me—”
“I did lose a bracelet. Just, I didn’t have the suite,” I quickly correct him, thinking the language difference might be the problem in understanding, desperate to get my bracelet back.
“Scuzi . . . let me check.” The line is silent for a moment, filled only with the click of a keyboard. “No, I’m sorry. The bracelet was most definitely found in the suite and it does have this phone number as the occupant . . .”
My pulse races, adrenaline surging, as awareness begins to break through the haze. Every cell in my body feels suddenly too awake, too sharp.
I hear more typing. “. . . Ah yes, here it is. This is the correct number for Marco Archer, si?”
“Yes,” I whisper into my husband’s telephone.
Marco’s telephone.
The hotel clerk’s voice is now a distant sound in my ear. Oh. My. God.
The silent voyeur.
The man who ensured I experienced pleasure. I was never hurt. The man thrilled and tantalized as he watched me groan in ecstasy. Only my release mattered. The man who joined in when he knew my mind would be blown. Who heard me call out my husband’s name.
My mind fires to process.
My husband loves me. He heard me.
All so we could rekindle the fire that first brought us together.
How much did he sacrifice to watch his wife be pleasured . . . be touched, tasted, devoured? There are no answers except my captor’s final words.
You are now free.