Chapter 32 Lila
Lila
Iwake up to the sunlight in my eyes and Anthony’s arm heavy around my waist, pulling me in like I’m something precious.
For a second, I don’t know where I am, and I panic.
Expecting the chill of my library, or the scratch of hospital sheets, or Eli’s voice hissing in my ear.
But then the smell of clean cotton and his skin hits me, and everything from last night floods back, electric and real.
I turn my head, and he’s already awake, watching me with a ridiculous intensity. A way no one has ever looked at me before. He smiles, the kind that’s all teeth and wickedness, and leans in to kiss my shoulder.
“Morning, gorgeous,” he says, voice gravel from sleep.
“Morning,” I answer, and for once, the word feels right. I stretch, every muscle humming with the ache of what we did last night. The sheets are twisted between my legs.
He traces a line from my collarbone to my chest, then lower, his hand big and heavy and possessive. “You have any idea how fucking beautiful you are first thing in the morning?” he says, voice low. “You should see yourself. All soft and sleepy. I want to keep you like this.”
My face flushes, but I can’t stop grinning like a moron. “You’re such a liar,” I mumble, but I don’t mean it.
He kisses my jaw, then my throat, then bites my earlobe just hard enough to make me gasp. “I wouldn’t lie about that, Lila.” His hand slides down over my stomach, then up under the edge of the blanket. “You want a shower?”
“Yes,” I say, and I do, but I don’t want to leave this bed. “But you’re coming with me. You’re the reason I need one.”
He laughs and throws off the covers, rolling out of bed naked, not even pretending to be shy. He stretches, arms over his head, and I stare at his back. Broad, scarred, and cut like something out of a movie. He catches me looking, turns, and grins. “Like what you see?”
“Not bad,” I say, and make a show of rolling my eyes, even though I want to devour him.
He crosses the room and scoops me up bridal-style, like I weigh nothing. “Anthony!” I yelp, half-laughing, “Put me down, you psycho.”
“Not a chance,” he says, carrying me into the bathroom.
His shower is stupidly huge, with a bench built in. A glass wall on one side and tile on the other. Everything fogs up the second he turns on the water. He sets me down on my feet inside, then steps in after me, reaching up to adjust the rain shower head so it pounds down over both of us.
The first hit of hot water is almost too much after the cold air, but then it’s perfect, washing away sweat and sleep and everything else.
Anthony leans into the spray, water streaming down his face and chest, and sighs like he’s in heaven.
I just watch him, memorizing every detail.
The curve of his shoulders, the way the water beads on his eyelashes, the light scar running from his right pec down to his ribs.
He’s the kind of beautiful that makes you want to do something stupid. Like fall in love.
He notices me staring and comes over, trapping me against the warm tile. “What are you thinking about?” he asks, forehead pressed to mine.
I slide my hands up his chest, feeling his heartbeat under my palm. “That I could get used to this,” I admit.
“Yeah?” He kisses my temple. “Me too.”
We stand there for a minute, just letting the water run over us.
Then he turns me around so my back’s to him and starts soaping my shoulders, slow and careful.
His hands are rough, but gentle, kneading out every knot of tension I have left.
He works down my spine, then around to my stomach, not hurrying, just exploring.
He slides his arms around my waist and pulls me against him, his cock hardening between us. He bends down and kisses my neck, biting just enough to leave a mark. I shiver, pressing back into him.
“You know what I used to think about, when all I could do was watch you?” he says, voice low in my ear.
I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak.
He runs his hand up to my throat, holding it just tight enough to make my breath catch.
“I used to jerk off thinking about you on your knees,” he whispers.
“Right here in my shower. Mouth open, taking me all the way down, gagging on it. I had to stop myself from coming over to your house and making it real.”
The words hit me like a punch. I’m so wet already, I don’t know how I can possibly want him more, but I do.
He lets go of my neck and turns me around to face him. “You don’t have to,” he says, thumb brushing my cheek. “I don’t expect anything from you. Ever. But fuck, I want it.”
I drop to my knees on the tile, the steam swirling around us. His cock is right in front of my face, thick and leaking and perfect. I wrap my hand around the base and stroke him once, twice, watching his eyes go half-lidded.
I look up at him. “Tell me what you want,” I say, voice steady even though my heart’s racing.
He threads his fingers through my hair, not pushing, just holding. “Open up, baby. Show me how pretty you look with my cock in your mouth.”
I do. I run my tongue over the head, then take him in as far as I can. He groans, low and guttural, and tightens his grip on my hair.
“Fuck, Lila,” he says, voice rough. “You’re fucking perfect.”
I hollow my cheeks, loving the way his whole body tenses. I use my hand for what I can’t fit in my mouth, twisting and stroking in time with my lips. He looks down at me, eyes wild, and I feel powerful for the first time in forever.
“God, you’re gonna make me come,” he says, and I don’t stop. “Uuhh-yes” he breathes out. Then sucks air in through his teeth. “That’s it. Good girl,” he says, breathing out again.
I love it, I want to make him lose control. He groans my name, and comes hard, hot on my tongue. I swallow every pulse of it, looking up at him while I do it.
He stares at me like he’s never seen anything so beautiful. “You’re fucking unreal,” he says, helping me up. “Come here.”
He pulls me into his arms and kisses me hard, like he can’t stand to be apart for even a second.
Then he sits down on the bench and drags me onto his lap, facing away from him. His cock is still slightly hard, pressed between us. He leans back, hand on my hip, and nuzzles his face into my neck, biting down on the soft flesh.
He slides two fingers between my legs and starts circling my clit, slow and deliberate. I gasp, hips rocking forward, but he holds me in place, not letting me move.
“You like that?” he asks, voice dark.
“Yes,” I say, barely able to breathe.
He adds a third finger, pressing inside, and I moan, clenching around him.
He wraps his other hand around my throat, squeezing just enough to make the room spin. “You’re gonna come for me,” he says. “Right here. Right now. Show me how good you can be.”
I see stars, my whole body shaking. He loosens his grip on my throat, and the pulsing in my body draws out longer than I thought possible. Fingers working me until I can’t take any more.
When I finally stop trembling, he pulls me close and kisses the top of my head. “Good girl,” he says. and I can feel my face flush.
He has to help me stay upright as we rinse off together, soaping each other’s hair and skin. He takes his time, fingers gentle as he works the conditioner through my tangled mess of red and blonde. When we’re finally clean, he wraps me in a huge towel and carries me back to the bedroom.
We towel off and get dressed in a lazy, half-hearted way. He puts on pajama pants and nothing else. I steal a faded t-shirt from his closet and pull it on over my bare skin.
He leads me downstairs to the kitchen, where he starts to make scrambled eggs and coffee like it’s the most normal thing in the world to have me here. The house is silent except for the sizzle of eggs hitting the pan and the gurgle of the coffee maker.
I sit at the island and watch him move around, feeling like I’m in someone else’s life. A better one.
He brings me a plate piled high with eggs and toast, then sits across from me, his feet brushing mine under the table. He’s so casual about it, like we’ve been doing this for years.
I dig into the food, starving. The coffee is strong and perfect, exactly how I like it. I take a long drink, then sigh.
“You know what’s wild?” I say, looking up at him.
“What?”
“I don’t remember the last time I took a hot shower and didn’t run out of water halfway through. Or had breakfast made for me. Or woke up next to someone who actually wanted me there.”
He gives me this look, soft, but a little sad. “Get used to it,” he says. “Because I plan on keeping you around.”
I laugh. “You’re such a sap.”
He grins. “Only for you.”
We eat in silence for a short while, just enjoying the food and the sunshine coming in through the windows.
After breakfast, I pull out my phone and call Mia. She answers on the second ring.
“Hey, my beautiful bitch,” she says. “You alive?”
“Barely,” I say, smiling. “Can you pick me up for work?”
She snorts. “You’re not coming in today, are you?”
“I need to. I’m saving for a car remember?”
Anthony gives me a look over the rim of his coffee mug. “I can give you a ride,” he says.
I shake my head. “No way. It’s like twenty degrees out, and I’m not ruining my hair with your helmet.”
He smirks. “You just want to ride in Mia’s car so she can talk shit about me.”
“Obviously,” I say. The banter is so easy to get used to now that I’m not walking on eggshells. I can be myself.
Mia laughs on the other end. “I’ll be there in twenty. You want coffee?”
“I’m good,” I say, glancing at the mug in my hand. “Just bring yourself. And maybe some leave-in conditioner.”
She hangs up, and I set my phone down, feeling strangely… content. Happy, even.
Anthony comes around the counter and pulls me into his arms, holding me tight. “You sure you don’t want to stay here today?”
“I’ll see you tonight,” I promise, kissing his chest.
He kisses the top of my head, then whispers, “I’m proud of you, you know.”
“For what?”
“For being brave,” he says. “For surviving. For letting yourself be happy.”
I close my eyes, holding onto that feeling. The truth is, I’m not brave. I’m still terrified, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. But right now, with his arms around me and the taste of coffee on my tongue, I almost believe him.
Maybe, for once, I really do deserve this.