Chapter Sixteen
DAHLIA + LAVENDER
Lane hated admitting how perfect dinner had ben because it gave Lennox too much ammunition, but there was no other word for it.
Olive and Oak was culinary love. The cuisine was like a love letter written to one’s palate.
Knox Carter-Fairfax had fed them food that breathed seduction while Dana’s wine pairings had left Lane warm and giddy, open to believing life could be generous without demanding blood in exchange.
The food had been enough to make her emotional. The wine had been enough to make her giggle against the rim of her glass.
But Lennox?
Lennox had ruined her. He’d sat across from her all night in that dark green shirt, watching her.
It was as if every bite she took was a private performance created solely for him.
His eyes had followed her every movement.
He bit his lip as he watched tongue lick her lips after every bite she took.
He groaned watching the curve of her throat when she swallowed wine.
The way she hummed when something tasted too good to be polite about.
His undivided attention was deliberate enough for Lane to know her man was one breath away from committing lewd and lascivious acts in the restaurant.
By dessert, she’d decided he was off probation.
He’s shown her with actions that he wasn’t running or hiding.
He wasn’t pretending desire was easier than tenderness or that tenderness made him weak.
He’d planned this entire weekend for her, not around what would impress other people, but around what would let her feel seen, fed, and chosen.
Lane was going to lean into him. Into the softness inside her that had been pressing against the bars for months, asking if it was safe to come out now.
By the time they stepped back into the suite, the night outside the windows had turned Winston Hills into a glittering pocket of dark green trees and dim light. Lane kicked off her sandals near the bedroom door and let out a satisfied sigh.
“If I die tonight, tell Knox I forgive him for getting me this full,” she whimpered.
Lennox closed the door behind them. “You’re not dying.”
“That meal was too good to be true.”
His laugh rolled over her, bringing a smile to his lips. Lane turned toward him, still loose from the wine and the glow of being treated with an amount of care she hadn’t figured out how to be casual about.
“So what’s the plan, Robot? Because if I sit down, Provocateur might not happen.”
His eyes moved over her in that dress as if she could sense his eyes in her, she moved her body in a that made him remember that dinner had only been the first indulgence.
“I picked your attire for tonight,” he said.
Lane’s brows lifted. “You did?”
“I did.” His gaze held hers, steady and careful beneath the heat. “Do you mind?”
The question gave Lane goosebumps. Not because he had chosen for her, but he had asked. She stepped closer and rested one hand against his chest, feeling his heart kick beneath her palm.
“No, not at all, Papa,” she answered.
Whenever she called him by a pet name his body roared with need. Lane smiled slowly because she knew what she did to him. His erection was growing against her plush midsection.
His eyes darkened, but his voice stayed controlled, barely. “Say that again.”
“You heard me.”
“I did.” His hand slid to her waist. “I want to hear it again.”
Lane tilted her head, letting her gaze drag over him with deliberate sweetness. “Show me what you picked, Papa.”
His jaw flexed and he could see the satisfaction that moved through her was almost better than dessert.
Lennox took her hand and led her toward the closet.
When he opened the door, a garment bag hung from the inner hook, waiting to be revealed.
He unzipped it slowly, then reached inside and pulled out the set.
Lane mewled at the luxury. The lingerie was equal parts elegance and temptation.
The bra was sheer black mesh with lush emerald floral embroidery blooming over the cups.
The green rich enough that she knew it would glow against her skin.
The matching thong mirrored the bra with emerald blossoms climbing across transparent mesh before giving way to silky black fabric in the center.
The garter belt looked made for her wide hips with slender satin straps designed to drape down her thighs and wait for stockings to complete the look.
Tiny satin bows and gold-toned hardware added just enough detail to make the ensemble feel sexy, feminine, and provocative.
All chosen by him, Lennox had committed her body to memory. The set was refined but sheer enough to invite curiosity. Embroidered enough to feel like wearable art, and so beautifully tailored it looked less like lingerie and more like a secret he’d chosen to wrap her in.
Lane touched the embroidered flowers with the tips of her fingers. “Lennox.”
“Yes, Baby.”
“You bought this for me?”
“Yes, Baby.”
“You knew my size?”
He smirked at the question. “I study you, Lane. You're my favorite work of art. I know every dip and curve.”
“Careful,” she told him as her nipples pebbled at his admission.
“I checked the label on the dress you left at my place months ago,” he said, “Then confirmed with the boutique.”
Lane narrowed her eyes. “Look at you avoiding cyber-sins,” she tittered.
“Daddy listens to you.”
“You’re was so fucking sexy, especially when you speak to me like that,” she managed to get out as her arousal danced in her eyes.
He was sure his next request would cause her pulse to speed up and her clit throb as he stepped behind her, letting his hands settle lightly at her waist. “Let me dress you.”
He could feel Lane’s stomach tighten as she met his gaze in the mirror. “You like this?”
“I love this.”
“You love having me like this.”
His voice dropped. “Trusting me?”
Lane swallowed. “Yes.”
His hands moved carefully to the straps of her satin dress. “I do.”
There was no rush in him as he undressed her, making their hunger for each other deeper.
His fingertips skimmed her shoulders as he slid the thin straps down.
His mouth followed with soft kisses that made her eyes flutter before she could pretend otherwise.
The leopard satin whispered down her body, pooling at her feet in a spill of fabric, leaving her standing in front of him with nothing to hide.
Tonight, she didn’t.
Tonight, Lane leaned back into every kiss.
Every touch warm against her skin. When his hands moved over her hips, she didn’t stiffen or turn it into a joke.
When his mouth brushed the curve of her shoulder, she let her head tilt.
When he whispered her name in a way that let her know he enjoyed her on his tongue in every way possible, she let herself relish it.
His hands were reverent and his eyes were overrun with lust in the same way hers were when he stared in them.
“You’re quiet,” he murmured.
“I’m letting you enjoy your hobby.”
“My hobby?”
“Being obsessed with me.”
His laugh brushed her skin. “That’s not my hobby, it’s my calling,” he affirmed, making Lane shivered.
He kneeled before her and held the thong open as Lane stepped in, one hand braced lightly on his shoulder.
His hands traveled up her legs as he guided the delicate fabric into place, lingering at her thighs, then her hips, making the act feel less like dressing her and more like devoting himself to her.
The bra came next, then her garter, and finally the stockings—rolled with careful fingers as his mouth grazed the inside of her knee once just to make her body jerk.
“Lennox,” she warned.
“Yes, Baby?”
Lane’s hold on his shoulders tightened as his eyes lifted to hers, dark and knowing. “You good?”
She hated how much she loved that he asked when his mouth was that close to making her forget language. “Yes.”
“Color?”
She paused she smiled, slow and honest. “Green.”
His eyes flashed with strangled restraint. “Good girl.”
His praise landed right between her thighs, making them press together.
Lennox noticed, too. He noticed everything about her.
His hands rose to her hips, holding her in place as he leaned closer.
His mouth touched her through intention more than contact at first. He was teasing her.
He was warming her up. He was making promises she knew he would keep.
His words followed, low and filthy enough to make her ears burn, but wrapped in enough praise to make her feel worshiped instead of exposed.
He told her what he saw when he looked at her.
What he wanted to do when the night was over.
How beautiful she looked trusting him. How hard it was to keep his hands patient when she stood there wrapped in emerald flowers like temptation.
Lane’s breath broke, and her body softened toward him.
She was chasing every word. Every brush of his mouth and every steady hold of his hands brought her right to the edge.
Right to the place where her thoughts scattered and all that remained was heat, need, and the sound of him calling her his good girl like he’d been born knowing what it would do to her.
Then he pulled back, making Lane’s eyes fly open.
Lennox stood slowly, licking his lips as if he had all the time in the world and not one ounce of shame.
She watched him look pleased with himself.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said, breathless.
“Like what?”
“Like you don’t know that I need you to relieve me.”
His smile was pure sin. “Be a good girl, and I’ll finish what I started.”
Lane hated the pout that came to her mouth—hated it even more when Lennox’s eyes dropped to it and softened with satisfaction.
“You’re enjoying this too much,” she muttered.
“I’m enjoying you.”