Page 5 of Spoiling Lillian
When she nods, I lead her through the outer glass door onto the sidewalk. It’s late July and warm enough in the evenings to go without a jacket.
I feel vanilla and out of my element as I hold Lillian’s hand and guide her to my truck. I don’t release it until I have the passenger door open.
She giggles, a youthful sound I love. She does it often when we’re on the phone. “This is not going to be graceful,” she states, glancing between the seat and the ground. There’s a running board she can use to boost herself, but she’s petite. I’m six-two, and she’s almost a foot shorter than me.
On instinct, I bend, lift her by the waist, and swing her into the truck.
Lillian makes the cutest soft squeal as I set her on her bottom, and then she scrambles to ensure her dress is tucked under her. I sort of wish she’d leave it. The idea of her sitting directly on her panties makes my cock hard.
She has a tiny silver purse that matches the sandals, and she removes the narrow strap from over her shoulder and sets it primly in her lap. I doubt it holds more than her lip gloss and her ID. Probably a credit card. Hopefully some cash, too. I don’t like the idea of her out without any money on her.
And since when do I think of something like that? I’ve lost my last brain cell. I’m even more certain of that when I find myself pulling the seatbelt across her and buckling it.
She’s grinning at me as I back out of the car, make sure all her limbs are inside, and shut the door.
Fuck. Me.
I think part of me thought if I saw her again, I would realize my imagination had gotten out of hand. But nope. She’s even better this time than I remember. In addition, another part of me thought I could flush her out of my system. Again, nope. That’s not going to happen.
She has her fingers wrapped around her clutch when I slide into my seat. White-knuckling the small purse, she’s sitting rigid, spine straight. There’s still a smile on her face, but she’s nervous.
Fuck, it’s not like me, but so am I.
We already discussed what restaurant we’re going to go to. I learned she likes just about anything, and therefore, I’m the picky one. So, we’re heading to a steak restaurant.
As I pull out of the parking lot, I glance at her. “Please tell me you’re not going to order a salad.”
She giggles. “Of course I’m going to order a salad. It’s one of the sides that comes with the petite fillet.”
I glance at her again, grinning. I can’t stop smiling. “Did you read the menu already?”
“Yep. I always read the menu before I go out. It’s too stressful to sit down at dinner and not have a clue about what I’m going to order.”
I smirk. “Is that a thing?”
“Of course. It’s distracting. I want to be able to talk to you, not read four pages of menu options.”
My face is going to hurt from all the grinning. “I don’t think I’ve ever thought about it. I glance down, find the T-bone, and I’m done.”
She gasps dramatically. “What if you’re not in the mood for a steak? What if you want the chicken or the shrimp?”
“That could happen to you. After all, just because you chose the fillet earlier doesn’t mean you’ll feel like steak when we arrive.”
“That’s why I always have a backup plan.”
I laugh. She’s so fucking delightful. “Tell me the backup plan.”
“Well, runner-up is the shrimp scampi, but only if by the time we arrive, I realize we have zero chemistry and there’s no chance of you kissing me because the garlic would be overwhelming.”
I laugh so hard that my body shakes. I want to tell her we already have so much fucking chemistry that I’m considering pulling over and kissing her on the side of the road. Instead, I say, “Yikes. I’m going to panic if you order the shrimp.”
“Nope. Because we’ve already passed that possibility.”
“Thank God,” I tease. “What’s the backup to the backup?”
“Well, if my stomach is in knots, I would order something easy to chew. In this case, the vegetarian meal. They only had one on the menu.”
“It is, after all, a steak restaurant.”
