Page 41 of His to Possess
She laughs. “You didn’t come to see Veronica’s third grade Christmas play, did you?”
I shake my head. “It’s not ringing any bells.”
“You should consider yourself lucky. The people who did see it were graced with the vision of angel number three—” She points to herself. “— tripping over her own feet, knocking down a set wall, and taking two of the wise men and the Virgin Mary into the orchestra pit with her.”
“Sounds like a fun time to me.”
She laughs some more, and I realize that I’m smiling big just watching her. “I’m a mess in front of a crowd, Philip. My mom tried to force it out of me for years with ballet lessons but as soon as I was in front of an audience, the nerves would kick in and whatever grace I may have found at Madame Giselle’s School of Dance went right out the window.”
I reach for the plate of chocolate brownies Mrs. Higgins left out for us, and hand her one before grabbing my own square. “So not acting, then,” I say. “Directing? I can see you bossing a crew around.”
She rolls her eyes then moans a little as the chocolate hits her tongue. I completely lose interest in the treat in my own fingers while I watch her. Is anything sexier than this woman eating?
“Writing,” she says after she’s swallowed, and I have to force my attention away from her mouth to focus on what she said.
“Sorry, what?”
“Screenwriting. That’s what I thought I might like to do.”
“Is that what you were studying at Duke?”
She snorts out a laugh. “Of course not. My parents would have lost their minds if I even suggested it.” I’m about to argue my displeasure with that statement when her face lights up. “I did take one class, as an elective. The professor had been in the business for ages—he won a Golden Globe back in the eighties. He had all these stories about the industry, the people he’s worked with, what it’s like behind the scenes.” Just as quickly as her face lit up, her expression falls. “It’s silly.”
“It’s not silly,” I say, voice sharper than I intended. But fuck, I hate to see that look on her face. She’d been more excited in those few seconds talking about her class than I’ve seen her since she got here. I have a sudden memory of her at fifteen or sixteen, hopping around my dad’s kitchen with Veronica, both of them giddy with excitement because I promised to take them into the city for some concert. This is how she always used to be, I realize, a tsunami of anger rising up at all the people who took that from her. All the people who made her feel her enthusiasm was unsightly or her dreams weren’t worthy.
“Feels silly,” she whispers.
“Hey.” I reach over again but this time I don’t stop at touching her. This time, I take her hand in mine and squeeze. “Nothing you want for your life is silly, okay? You’re a bright, dedicated, brave person. If there’s something you want to do, you can do it.”
She blinks over at me, looking surprised. “You think I’m, uh, brave?”
I scoff. “Of course I do. Look at what you’ve faced recently. That apartment alone deserves a medal of valor.”
“Thank you,” she says, laughing, before her face grows serious. There’s a beat of silence. “And thank you for trying to help. I can never tell you how much I appreciate it.”
I press a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s an honor to help you.”
Her breath catches when I get close and I wonder if she’s going to pull away again. Instead, she rests her head against my chest and breathes in and out. Soon my own breaths match hers, our chests rising and falling in the same rhythm. And it all feels so good. So damn right. To have her here in my penthouse. To sit on the floor and eat dessert with her while we talk about movies. To hold her like this. To comfort her when she’s sad. To listen to all the things she regrets and all the things she wishes for her future.
She feels right. But that makes absolutely no sense. Because there’s no way in hell I’m the right guy for her.
Lilah yawns. “We should get to bed,” I tell her. Then I realize what that sounded like—we should get to bed. Together. Fuck. Now I’m thinking about her in my bed. And the way she’s sitting so close, it’s only a matter of time before she notices my very eager cock.
I put my hands to her waist to lift her to her feet and nearly curse out loud when my fingers accidentally brush against the silky soft skin of her belly. Apparently sitting like this caused her shirt to ride up and I can see a full two-inch strip of creamy smooth skin. I manage to get her on her feet, ignoring the voice in my head telling me to find out what the rest of her skin feels like, then stand myself.
“Come on. We both had a long few days.”
I have to fight the natural urge to take her hand as we walk down the hall to the bedrooms. And I have to fight the urge to pull her past her door to mine. When she rises up on her toes to kiss my cheek, whispering a soft, “good night,” I’ve used up all the fight I have. Maybe that’s why I turn my face at the last minute so her lips land an inch away from mine, instead of on my cheek. Her eyes widen slightly, something dark and needy flashes in their blue depths, and that’s it. I’m fucking gone.
I take her face between my palms and tilt it, positioning her just where I want her. Then, my eyes on hers the whole time, looking for any sign she doesn’t want this, I press my lips to hers.
I feel her little breathy moan more than I hear it, and I can’t stop myself from pulling her face closer. My tongue comes out to trace the plumpness of her lower lip and she moans again. I’m going to have her naked and under me right here in the hallway if she keeps making that noise.
The next time my tongue slides out to trace her lips, she opens for me. There’s nothing hesitant or frightened in her movement, just desire as her warm silky tongue slides against mine. Dear lord, she feels good. My hands fall from her face to her hips and I yank her against me, hard. She gasps when she feels my erection pressed against her and that just makes me want her even more. I want to hear her moan, her gasps. Want to hear what kind of noise she would make if I spanked her.
I pull back just far enough to make my mouth form words. “What we saw at the club—that dance. You liked it, didn’t you?” The memory of her bright eyes and flushed cheeks has my dick hardening even more. “Did you like that he was dominating her, love?”
I expect her to be shy, but her answer comes immediately. “Yes. I liked that a lot.”
