Chapter 49
Daniel
She was fucking beautiful. Beautiful in my arms, beautiful wearing those shorts and t-shirt, beautiful talking about our investigations like a pro, and abso-fucking-lutely beautiful looking at me with shiny eyes, a wide smile, and a soft sway to her body from the alcohol.
I wondered how much alcohol it would take to hear her laugh.
She leaned forward and put her head on my shoulder. “I like feeling like this with you, Daniel.”
“Drunk?”
“Not drunk yet. Take another shot with me? Last one.”
I pulled her back and looked at her eyes. “Not much left of your beautiful gray eyes with how big your pupils are. You sure?”
She chuckled. “Alcohol isn’t the only thing that dilates pupils, Daniel. Besides, do I sound drunk?”
“You look drunk. Fuck if I know what kind of magic you’ve got that makes you still sound like your usual self.”
“Shot.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She grinned, and we downed another shot of rum. I was feeling it myself and wondered if this little woman could possibly outdrink me.
“So, any ideas?” She sat in front of me and wrapped her hands around my neck again.
Oh, I have a few ideas.
“Be specific, beautiful.”
“About how we find out if there’s a connection between Langford and Natalia.”
I shook my head and took a deep breath. “She didn’t really confide in anyone. If she didn’t tell me or Becca…”
“What about a roommate?” Lydia started to move her nails gently up and down the nape of my neck.
“She lived with someone in college. I don’t think they were that close, though.”
“You can’t hide much from someone you live with. Do you know who she is?”
“Yeah, we can try to talk to her tomorrow morning. I guess it’s worth a shot.”
“Mmm… tomorrow, then.” Her nails dug a little deeper, almost breaking the skin and sending an electric shock down my spine at the sensation.
Fuck it.
I lifted and flipped her on her back on the couch, leaning over her and giving her a second to push me back if she felt closed in. Her eyes shut tight for a moment, but she smiled, so I wasn’t sure what she was feeling.
“Are you ok?”
“Yep, you just moved me really fast and the room started to spin. I’m good.” Her smile widened. “I’m not even close to that drunk, so stop questioning everything you do around me.”
I leaned down and kissed her, tasting the rum on her tongue before moving down to kiss her jaw and neck.
Her nails were under my shirt on my lower back, which was covered in goosebumps.
I held the side of her neck and kissed her again, moving my other hand under her shirt and over her stomach before slowly moving up.
My hand grazed the bottom of her breast, and I waited a second for her to react.
That only seemed to piss her off, because her nails dug into my skin in the middle of my back, pushing me down on top of her.
I leaned back, wanting to take my time touching her stomach and chest, feeling her soft skin, and looking at her watching me. I felt like I couldn’t breathe with how beautiful she was.
“I want you.”
Her lips twitched and widened into a smile while her eyes shot down to my shorts. “I can see that.”
I was still holding back with her. She felt like a ticking bomb without a timer, just waiting to go off at any random moment if I made one wrong move or said one wrong word.
Her brows furrowed. “Not yet.”
“What are you waiting for? I’m not asking to pressure you—I just want to know what’s going on in that head.”
She trailed a finger up my chest to my neck. “I’m waiting for you, Daniel.”
What?
“Uh… I’ve been ready to fuck you for a while now.”
Her smile turned mischievous. “Tell me, what are you like in bed? What do you like to do? What do you want to do with me, to me?”
I hesitated for a moment. “Where are you going with this? Are you asking for dirty talk or—”
“Let me ask you something else, then.” Her eyes held mine in a daring look. “What were you like with women you dated in the past? Were you so gentle and careful, or is that just with me?”
Fuck.
I leaned back on my knees and pulled her up with me. “Why are you asking this, Lydia?”
“You’re very clever, Daniel. It’s one of the things I like about you.
You notice things about me that others don’t, and I appreciate it when you adjust your behavior to make me more comfortable, but you’re doing it so automatically now that I wonder…
how much do you change to match the people around you?
What would you be like if I wasn’t me? Would I get you?
I want the real you. I want to know what you’re really like when you’re not worried about breaking me. ”
I felt my eyes widen and my heart pound almost painfully in my chest because I couldn’t answer her.
I was always the perfect date, the perfect boyfriend, the perfect fling because I knew how to read my partners and be what they wanted.
Was I ever what I wanted? Have I ever even given myself the chance to learn what I liked and asked for it or demanded it?
With Lydia, I’ve been doing what I always did—learning what made her feel good and avoiding what made her uncomfortable. I never realized that she was trying to do the same with me. I never thought anyone would do that.
“I-I don’t—”
“I know. So we move slow.”
I wasn’t sure what I was feeling, but it was an overwhelmingly raw emotion with the realization that I was in my thirties and didn’t know the most basic things about myself. Shit, was I a people pleaser? No, I didn’t care if people liked me. But when it came to relationships… Fuck.
I pulled her down on the couch with her back to my chest and held her. My hand was under her shirt, moving slowly over the small raised lines on her stomach and ribs. Her small scars…
How big were they when she was a child?
How had this strange woman, who had been through so much and developed such a keen mind and impressive survival instincts, become a receptionist?
No, I knew how. She ran away and hid herself in a quiet life where nothing interesting would ever happen because she wouldn’t be able to ignore it if it did.
The second she was put in a situation where she was exposed to more people and information, she got pulled in.
After getting lost in my thoughts, I realized she had fallen asleep.
I picked her up to carry her to my bed, trying to be gentle and quiet, but her eyes shot open the second I moved her off the couch.
She looked up at me for a split second before closing her eyes again and leaning her head on my chest.
She trusts me.
It meant everything. Now I have to trust her enough to let myself make mistakes around her while I find out who the fuck I really am when I’m not trying to be what someone else wants me to be.