Chapter Six #2
I hesitate for a long moment, trying to process the realization that I want it the same way.
This isn't about my building anymore. It's about something else, something bigger.
Something more important. I don't know what's going to happen with the building.
Right now, it doesn't really matter. What matters is this: if I walk away now, I'll spend the rest of my life regretting it.
I know I will, the same way I know he will.
"Will you…" I lick my lips, trying to work moisture back into my mouth. "Will you come home with me?"
"You want me to spend the night with you, Lilah?" he asks, his fingers stroking my cheekbones.
"Yes."
He dips his head, pressing his lips to my forehead. "Yeah, baby. I'll come home with you."
I wake up in increments the following morning. First, I feel the sun spilling across my face. And then I feel the warmth of his body pressed to mine. And then my eyes flutter open, my heart jolting against my ribcage.
I flip over so fast, my head spins.
"Morning, little bookworm," he murmurs, his voice gritty. His expression is soft and open, warm in a way that has my heart beating a million miles a minute.
"You stayed," I whisper.
He brushes hair away from my face, grinning at me. "I told you I would, didn't I?"
He did. But I guess part of me expected to wake up alone, as if last night was a dream. Except, it's not. He's still in my bed, naked, with my scratch marks down his arms.
Best. Morning. Ever.
Until I glance at the clock and realize that I have fifteen minutes until I'm supposed to be at the store.
"Crap," I groan. "I'm late."
"You passed out on me last night before you could set an alarm," he says with a chuckle. "I wasn't sure what time you needed to be up."
"An hour ago."
"You got time for a shower?" he asks, running one hand down my side.
My body instantly heats, my core clenching. I definitely don't have time for that kind of shower, but will that stop me? Absolutely not.
"I've got time," I whisper.
He grins and then pulls me from the bed, leading me toward the bathroom. Once inside, he gets the shower started while I brush my teeth and run a brush through my wild hair. His hands were definitely all in it last night. It's tangled, snarled, and a hot damn mess.
"Come on," he murmurs once I'm done, tapping my hip to get me moving. "Inside before you're even later."
As soon as the door of the stall closes behind us, steam swirling all around, he drops any pretense of trying to get me to work on time. Within seconds, he's got me backed up against the tile wall, running his hands all over my body.
I come twice before he's even inside me, and then once more on his cock before the water runs cold. Neither of us gets clean. We just get messier. I'm not complaining. He can shower with me anytime he likes if it means orgasms like those.
My toes still tingle while I'm getting dressed.
"Will I see you later?" I ask, watching him dress through the mirror.
"Depends," he murmurs, glancing over at me.
"On what?"
"If I'm allowed to steal you for lunch or not. I'm meeting with the mayor and city council this morning, but I should be free by noon." He meets my gaze in the mirror. "Have lunch with me?"
I nod, my heart pounding.
He strides toward me, knotting his tie. When he steps up behind me, pressing his body to mine, I shiver, melting back against him.
His lips brush my shoulder before he nuzzles my throat. "I'll be counting the fucking minutes until you're all mine again at lunch, Lilah."
"Me too," I whisper, meaning it.
"You hussy!" Jazz's shriek echoes around the store, making me cringe.
"Keep your voice down," I hiss, my eyes darting around. But we're still alone inside. Thank God. I do not need the entire town knowing that I slept with Lincoln—three times, actually.
Jazz crosses her arms, smirking at me. "Is he your dirty little secret?"
"What? No."
"Are you fucking him to keep your building? Because, honestly, high five to you if you are getting laid and getting your building, too. That's some professional-level multitasking," she says.
I just gape at her for a long, silent moment before a laugh erupts from my lips. "Sometimes, I truly question how your mind works, Jazz. No, I'm not sleeping with him as a way to get my building."
"Is he sleeping with you as a way to get your building?" she growls, her eyes narrowing.
"No, of course not." I huff at her. "We didn't even really talk about the building."
"So he doesn't know that you aren't going to fight him on it?" She props a hip against the counter, nibbling on her bottom lip. "And you aren't going to end up brokenhearted when you lose this place to the man you're sleeping with?"
"I…" I hesitate, my heart clenching. "I don't know," I whisper.
"Well, I do because I know you," she says, her voice soft and full of worry. "Losing this place is going to break your heart, Lilah. And if you lose it to him after you've spent a month sleeping with him, I'm not sure you'll be able to get over that."
"You don't know that," I argue, my cheeks heating.
"Yeah, I do," she says sadly. "I know it because I know you, and I know how much this place means to you. If he's the one who takes it away, it'll be a wedge between you. We both know that's why you two aren't really talking about it."
"So what? You think I should call the whole thing off? Tell him that we're never going to work and walk away now?"
"No." She shakes her head. "I think you need to call your dad and ask him—"
"I'm not calling my dad."
"Then you're setting yourself up to lose your building and the first man who has ever left stars in your eyes," she says. "You deserve better than that. You deserve happiness, the store of your dreams, and the man of your dreams."
"We can't all have everything," I mutter defensively.
"I know, but if you aren't careful, you're going to end up with nothing but a broken heart and a lifetime of regret.
Don't do that to yourself," she advises, and then stands upright as the bell over the door jingles and Paisley and Zoya Goodson, two of Lucy's cousins-in-law, sweep through the doors. "You deserve more."
I watch her sashay across the store to greet Paisley and Zoya, chewing on my bottom lip.
Part of me wants to shout that she's wrong, and I'll handle everything just fine.
But…I know better, as much as I don't want to admit it.
When Lincoln takes the store, it's going to crush me.
I don't want to be the kind of person who holds it against him.
It's not like he knew how much the building meant to me when he placed a bid on it, but…
I'm not sure how I'll feel once the deed is done.
I don't want a different building. I want this one, the one I chose because my bookstore felt like it belonged right here—where bookstores have stood damn nearly constantly since the 1930s.
But I want him too—in a way that I've never wanted anything.
How am I supposed to lose one and keep the other without splitting myself and my heart in two?