14. Penthouse Rules
PENTHOUSE RULES
Ethan
She takes the key.
I watch her fingers close around the silver card. She doesn't say yes out loud. She picks it up, tucks it into her pocket, and says, “I'll need to get some things from my apartment.”
“I'll send a car.”
“I can take the subway.”
“Lani.” I keep my voice even. “Please. Let me send a car.”
She looks at me for a long moment. She's fighting the instinct to refuse anything that feels like being handled. But she's tired.
“Fine,” she says.
I nod.
The next evening, she arrives with a single suitcase and a backpack. I show her the guest suite, the kitchen, the hallway. Lily's room is at the end of the hall. She's at my parents' tonight. She knows a friend of daddy's is staying in the guest room for a while. That's all she knows.
Lani nods. She doesn't ask to look in.
“She'll be home tomorrow afternoon. You don't have to come out and meet her if you're not ready. Or if you are, I'll introduce you. Whatever you want.”
“What does she do when she meets someone new?”
“Asks too many questions. Tells them about her rabbit. Makes them sit on the couch so she can show them her books.”
The corner of Lani's mouth moves. The first time since this morning.
“I can handle that,” she says.
We sit at the kitchen island after. She's tired. I set a plate of crackers and cheese between us. She doesn't touch it for a long moment. Then she does.
“Tell me how this works,” she says.
“Lily's schedule is the only fixed thing. Breakfast at 7:30 a.m. with Harper. Preschool drop-off at 8:15 a.m. Pickup at 3 p.m. Bath at 6 p.m. Bedtime at 7 p.m. I do bedtime when I can.”
“Okay.”
“Building has secure parking. Garage entrance, not the front door. Service elevator if the main one has people in it.” I pause. “It's a system I built around Lily. You're safe here.”
She nods.
“What about you?” I ask. “What do you want the rules to be?”
“Don't go through my things. Knock before entering the guest wing.
Don't act different around me when Lily's here. Treat me like a friend.” She pauses.
“And whatever happens between us. Whatever shape this takes.
Lily comes first. If there's ever a choice between me and her, you choose her. Always.”
I look at her.
“I'd choose her anyway,” I say.
“I know.” She holds my gaze. “That's why I'm here.”
She reaches across the kitchen island. Her hand finds mine. We hold there for a second. Then she lets go and picks up her tea.
The first few days we keep our distance. She makes coffee at 7 a.m. I come out at 7:15 a.m. and it's made. We don't sit down together. We don't talk about anything that isn't work.
Lily comes home the second day. I introduce them in the living room. “Lily, this is my friend Lani. She's staying with us for a little while.” Lily looks at her for three seconds. “Your sweater is the same color as my teacher Angela's,” she says.
“It must be a popular color,” Lani says.
Lily nods and goes back to her coloring book. Simple as that.
In the evenings Lani stays in her wing. I do bedtime with Lily. Story, water, the negotiation about whether Bun needs a different blanket tonight.
By the third night, the pattern is set. It's clean. It's simple. It's unbearable. Coffee on the counter before I wake up. Her jacket over the back of the kitchen chair. The penthouse feels like someone else lives here.
The fourth night, I can't sleep.
Past midnight. I walk to the kitchen for water. Lily's been asleep for hours. The city glow comes through the windows.
She's sitting at the kitchen island.
Her hair is down, loose around her shoulders. She's wearing a thin cotton shirt that stops at her thighs, a cup of ginger tea in her hands.
“Couldn't sleep,” she says.
“Me neither.”
I get my water. I should go back to my room.
I sit down across from her, instead.
“The nausea is better at night,” she says. “Mostly.”
“That's good.”
“I have the appointment next Thursday.” She looks at me over the rim of her cup. “You can come. If you want.”
“I want,” I say.
She sets down the tea. Her fingers wrap around the mug. The red nails are gone tonight. Bare fingers, no armor.
“This is weird,” she says. “Right? This whole thing.”
“Yes.”
“Living with you. Having your baby. Pretending to be daddy's friend.” She laughs without humor. “A few months ago, I was drinking alone at a hotel bar.”
“And now?”
In the low light, her eyes are dark and unguarded.
“Now I feel like a different kind of disaster.”
“You're not a disaster,” I say. “You're the most capable person I've ever met.”
She stares at me. “You called me a temp.”
“I was wrong.”
“You gave me impossible deadlines.”
“You beat every single one.”
“You shut your office door when I walked by.”
“Because I couldn't think when you were near me.” The words come out before I can stop them. “I've been trying not to want you since the day you walked into my office. It's not working.”
Silence.
She doesn't look away. Neither do I.
“The custody hearing is soon,” she says.
“I know.”
“If we do this, it stays between us. Lily can't know. Maya can't know. No one can know until it's over.”
“I know.”
She stands up.
She walks around the island and stops in front of me.
“I hate that you're right about everything,” she says. “I hate that you're always in my head. I hate that I came out here hoping you'd be awake.”
She kisses me.
Her mouth is warm and tastes like ginger. Her hands grip my shoulders and every boundary I drew in my head dissolves.
“Tell me to stop.” My voice comes out rough. “Tell me to stop and I will.”
She pulls back to look at me. Her lips are swollen. Her eyes are dark.
“Don't stop.”
I stand, lifting her with me. Her legs wrap around my waist. I carry her down the hall, past her door, past Lily's closed door, to the master suite at the far end. I close the door behind us and lock it.
I lay her down. Her shirt is gone before she reaches the bed. Nothing underneath. She's bare in the low light and I can't move.
“Less talking,” she whispers. “More touching.”
I pull my shirt off. She sits up on the bed and presses her mouth to my chest. Her lips trace down my ribs. Her fingers hook my waistband and drag down. She wraps her hand around my cock and strokes. Slow. Firm. I suck air through my teeth.
“Lily,” she whispers against my skin. A warning. A reminder.
I nod. She strokes me while she looks up and the eye contact alone is enough to end me. Her thumb swipes over the tip and my hips jerk.
“You like that,” she whispers. Not a question.
I ease her back down. Kiss her collarbone.
The hollow of her throat. Lower. I take my time with her breasts, my thumb tracing one nipple while my mouth covers the other.
She grabs a fistful of the sheets and twists.
I switch sides. Suck harder. She bows off the bed and her hand flies to the back of my head, pressing me closer.
I keep moving down. She hooks one leg over my shoulder when I get there. I press my mouth against her pussy and taste her and her heel digs into my back. She's wet. I run my tongue through her folds, flat and slow, and she shudders.
“Right there.” Barely a sound. “Don't move.”
I don't move. I work her clit with my tongue, steady, the same pressure, the same speed.
I slide two fingers inside her. She's tight and soaked and when I curl them, she grabs the pillow and pulls it over her face.
Her thighs clamp against my head. Her whole body tightens and she comes with her face pressed into the pillow, her hips grinding against my mouth.
I pull the pillow away. Her face is flushed. Her eyes are glazed.
“Get up here,” she says. “I need you inside me.”
I settle between her thighs. Push in. Slow. She's swollen from coming and the heat of her around me makes my vision blur. Her eyes close and her mouth opens, and I forget every rule I ever made.
“You feel ...” I can't finish.
“So deep.” She wraps her legs around me. Pulls me deeper. “Move.”
I move. Long strokes. Pulling almost all the way out before pushing back in. She's so wet I can hear it, and the sound makes me harder. Her nails drag down my back, and I feel the marks she's leaving. She hooks her ankles behind me and pulls me in harder on every stroke.
“God, Ethan.” She presses her mouth against my shoulder to keep from making noise. “You fuck me so good.”
The words go straight through me. I grip her hip with one hand and drive deeper. She bites down on my shoulder to stop the moan.
“Faster.” The word is hot against my neck.
I give her faster. She reaches above her and grips the headboard. The muscles in her arms flex. I slide one hand under her lower back and lift her hips. The angle changes and I'm hitting the spot that makes her legs shake.
“There. Right there. Don't stop.”
I cover her mouth with mine. We breathe each other's air. I reach between us, my thumb circling her clit while I thrust into her. She's clenching around me, getting tighter with every stroke.
She breaks first. Her back lifts off the mattress. She bites my bottom lip. Hard. Her pussy grips me in waves and I feel every pulse. I follow two strokes later, buried deep, coming hard, shaking, her name in my mouth.
“Stay,” I say.
She's lying against me. My hand in her hair.
“I can't stay all night,” she says. “Lily.”
“I know. If she wakes up. If she comes to find me in the morning.”
“An hour,” she says.
“An hour,” I agree.
She puts her head back on my chest.
She falls asleep in my arms. I stay awake, watching the city lights.