Page 4 of Spoiling Lillian
If it hadn’t been for Camden and Simone introducing us, I doubt I ever would have looked twice in her direction.
I sigh. That’s not true. I did a double-take the moment I met her. Something about her caught my eye. Even after she left the private room where I was observing Camden and Simone, I was still thinking of her. If I’d been the one doing the spanking, I would have had to bow out. My mind hadn’t been fully sharp. It kept straying to the adorable woman who’d trembled wide-eyed while she’d watched her sister.
I’d known then that she was young. A thirty-five-year-old man has no business ogling a twenty-one-year-old woman. Plus, she’s not just young. She’s so fucking innocent. It’s written across her forehead.
Fuck, maybe that’s what I’m attracted to. But it’s not my usual style. I never pay attention to vanilla women or those who hang out in the daycare at Surrender. I don’t have a damn thing in common with either of them.
And yet…
I pull up in front of her apartment building and park. I could have met her at the restaurant like I would have with just about any other woman on Earth for a first date. But no…
For one thing, it’s not like we met two days ago and she should be nervous about giving me her address. But also, with Lillian, there’s no way I would want her out at night coming to meet me and then returning home alone.
Hell, her sister, Simone, was attacked by a man in front of this very apartment building. Simone never returned after that night. She ended up moving in with Camden. Lillian moved to Seattle soon afterward and took over Simone’s lease.
Even though the man who attacked Simone is behind bars, I still cringe every time I think about Lillian living here alone. Or anywhere alone.
I climb down from my truck and head for the entrance to her building. At least it’s locked. After stepping into the entryway, I can go no farther without using the intercom system to have her buzz me up. But that’s not necessary because she’s standing on the other side of the doors, and when she sees me, she rushes forward.
My God.
Part of me had hoped my memory of her had been an illusion. But apparently not. She takes my breath away, the same as she did the first time I saw her.
She’s smiling as she pushes through the inside doors and joins me in the entryway. “Hey.”
I return her smile. “Hey back. You look lovely, Lils.” Lovely is an understatement, but it’s not like I should tell her she looks sexy as fuck and turn her around and drag her back upstairs so I can strip her naked.
That’s not my style. And it’s certainly not her style.
She’s wearing a dark pink dress. It has spaghetti straps, and it’s fitted around her chest, flaring out under her breasts. It’s short. Stylish. I don’t think she has a bra on, and that thought alone makes my mouth go dry. She is wearing silver sandals.
She blushes. “Thank you. You look handsome.”
I reach up to finger a lock of her long brown hair. She has curled it tonight, so ringlets hang all around her. I suspect it took her quite a while to style it that way.
Her makeup is minimal. In fact, I think she’s only wearing mascara and lip gloss. I’d love to taste it and find out if it’s flavored. But that’s not going to happen. Absolutely not.
I don’t know why I’m holding a lock of her hair in my fingers. I guess it’s the only way I could justify touching her. Hair doesn’t really count. This is a first date. It’s not like I can lean in and kiss her.
I’m so out of my element. I don’t do this sort of thing. I only date women I’ve met at Surrender, and even that doesn’t happen often. Women I meet outside the club never catch my eye.
She looks down at herself and then giggles. “Simone helped me pick this out. She has the most adorable clothes. I think we’re both in a permanently rebellious phase after living in Casa Lighton for our childhood.” She scrunches up her nose.
I chuckle. “You dressed a specific way in your parents’ home?”
She rolls her pretty brown eyes. “In the house. Out of the house. At the country club. Hell, if my mother had her way, we wouldn’t even spend time in our bedrooms without being dressed for the eventuality of entertaining a surprise guest.”
“Yikes.” I cringe. “And this dress wouldn’t have been appropriate?”
“God, no. Nothing about my appearance would please my mother. The dress is too short and babyish. She would gasp if she saw me in flat sandals. My hair isn’t professionally coifed. I have no foundation on. Just mascara. And…” She wiggles her fingers between us. “I haven’t seen my natural nails since I was about fourteen. It feels so good to have those ridiculous acrylics removed.”
Wow. She really did escape a madhouse.
I take the opportunity to reach out and clasp one of her hands in mine. “Well, I, for one, think you look fantastic this way. You should wear whatever makes you feel like yourself. Don’t ever do something to please another person again.”
“Thank you.”
“Ready?”
