by Gaja J. Kos
While he was standing there like a worthless log, Lily pulled a gold cigarette case from her handbag and drew out a Sobranie. Purple, this time. Naturally, being the ass of a gentleman that he was, William produced a lighter with the speed of a desperate man and held up the flame to her. He tried convincing himself it was simply the proper thing to do, but in truth, he was itching for an excuse to get closer.
And it was worth it.
Lily’s thick, dark lashes fell like black crescent moons across her cheeks as she leaned down and brought the tip of her cigarette to the ember. There were hints of freckles scattered across her nose, testifying to a summer lived out in the sun. He swallowed.
Fuck, she was gorgeous.
From her long manicured fingernails to the plump lips, painted a come-fuck-me shade of elegant orange. There was an air of Old Hollywood around her, but the vintage touch was mixed with something more modern. Edgier. And he’d be damned if it wasn’t the most perfect thing he’d seen in his whole bloody life.
Lighting his own cigarette to take his mind off the impossible strain in his pants, William inhaled deeply, then trailed his gaze across the starlit sky. For once, London decided not to throw buckets of rain when he had to spend the evening outside. It was almost hard not to take it as a sign.
“How do you like the exhibition so far?” he asked, even when it wasn’t the actual question he wanted to pose.
Sadly, Can I press you against the wall? just wasn’t going to cut it.
“Truthfully?” Lily’s green eyes glistened with amusement and a dash of guilt. “I haven’t been able to move away from yours.”
It was a line he’d heard numerous times before in some form or another, but the way she said it—William believed her.
“So it isn’t as darkly brooding as Bram put it?” he teased.
“Oh, it is.” She chuckled before flashing him a broad smile. “But that’s precisely what I love about it. I don’t think the whole beauty is in the eye of the beholder thing had ever manifested itself quite as clearly as in those images. I know your work has always been touched by an almost eerie presence of death and loss, but what I saw tonight… It went deeper than that.”
She nibbled on her lip, cigarette smoke trailing from her raised hand.
“Go on,” he prompted softly, adoring how her shyness seemed to disappear when discussing art.
Lily looked up at him and inhaled sharply. “The one with the broken crystal, for example. The way that lone ray of dawn seems captured, trapped in it, as if the damage made it impossible for it to escape and illuminate the icy land… It’s haunting. But beautiful.”
Silence stretched between them as her words lingered in the air.
William had been branded as morbid. Too dark or moody. And none of those people had meant it as a compliment. Not even Bram.
Then again, pop art and William’s own visions rarely mixed. As for the rest—he could understand why people leaned towards the brighter aspects of life. Or the real and brutal, when they needed a reminder of just how better off they were, the wankers.
But what drove him behind the lens again and again was the dreamlike aesthetic of the unknown and feared. The mysticism and nightmares.
His mother always did tell him he had a dark heart.
He looked at Lily with her polished appearance and brightly painted lips, her words still resonating in his mind…
Maybe he was a morbid sod. But for the first time, he felt it might not be such a bad thing, after all.
Undoubtedly noticing his blunt attention, Lily shifted on her feet, her heels creating a sweet little sound that nearly made him groan out loud. The tip of her cigarette flared orange-red as she inhaled, then slowly released the smoke, her piercing gaze locking on his again.
Yes, he was still staring.
“If I had to give an overall impression,” she ventured gently, “I would say the images have a certain Sleepy Hollow feel to them.”
The smile was there before William could control it. As was the rush of excitement.
“Irwing was my inspiration for the exhibition. No one noticed it so far.”
“I’m sure if you’d stayed inside instead of sneaking off with me”—she lifted an amused eyebrow—“someone would have brought it up eventually.”
William took an involuntary step closer. “I doubt it.”
His words came out curter than he intended them to be, but Lily didn’t flinch away. Her gaze remained firmly on his, the way she held her head slightly tilted up making her lips even more inviting. He brushed a loose strand of her hair away from her face, then trailed a single finger down her jaw, reveling in the subtle tremors that followed in the wake of his caress.
“Who are you, Lily Summers?” he whispered, cupping her face. “What do you want?”
He didn’t know what lunacy had possessed him to utter the question. He’d been the one who dragged her out here. Who had been unable to walk by the previous night without at least saying something.
But as Lily leaned into his touch, he was grateful he’d asked.
“Are you certain you want to hear the answer, William?” Her voice dropped down to a sultry purr.
Fucking hell… His breaths deepened, and with the amount of blood rushing to his cock, it was a miracle he hadn’t toppled over.
But he bloody well wanted to hear the answer. Just so that he could bloody well kiss her already.
That small part of him that hadn’t lost its senses entirely, however, stopped him before he could act. If he let whatever this was go any further, he would be well and truly done for.
Still, stepping back seemed impossible now, with the warmth of her skin falling upon his.
Christ, he was losing it. He was drawn to a woman he hardly knew anything about beyond her name. He hadn’t even spent enough time in her company to come up with an illusion for him to fall in love with.
So why did he believe what he was feeling was more than just carnal attraction? How could he kiss her when it was so bloody obvious he would want to see her again? And not just once.
“I don’t do casual, love,” he whispered, his thumb circling her smooth skin. “And you don’t want to step into my life right now.”
The stack of papers waiting on his desk. The warning emails from his lawyer, explaining Trisha was intent to crap all over him in any way possible now that he’d finally got her to vacate his flat. He’d be nothing more than a rank bastard to pull an innocent into that mess.
Court appearances. His ex materializing randomly at the pub next door. The calls. The texts. But most of all, he wasn’t sure if he had anything of himself left to offer.
Not that it stopped him from wanting to.
Without taking her eyes off him, Lily inched forward. “Then why are you still touching me?”
There was no scorn or malice in her voice. Nothing forceful either. Just curiosity.
Shit, anything else, and he would have walked away.
He should walk away, even now.
Instead, William obliterated the empty space gaping between them, their bodies almost touching, and flicked his burnt-down cigarette into the darkness. Whatever voice of reason had yapped at him earlier fell silent, drawn by her warmth, that faint scent of perfume. By her.
It was all her.
A presence he not only failed to resist, but one that made him feel… Hell, he didn’t even know what it was, but it was peaceful. Safe. Even when his body was just about ready to rip itself apart to get to her.
With a half smile on his lips, he fumbled with the high collar of Lily’s coat, turning it up as a cold wind howled around the edge of the gallery. She was still waiting for her answer, but her gaze was now on his mouth instead of his eyes, a deep, low fire burning in that fascinating green.
Could she really want him?
Would she still want him if she knew how tainted he was?
Hell…
His cock strained against his pants, the hunger he thought he’d never experienc
e again burning through his veins and wreaking havoc on his mind.
“Do you wish to kiss me, William?” she said with a slight Irish lilt he hadn’t noticed before.
As he grappled for a way to convince himself the answer was no, she took another step closer and crushed that last bit of distance, their bodies now perfectly aligned. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and William had no doubt she must have felt every hard inch of how badly she turned him on.
But Lily surprised him once again.
She didn’t make a move as he’d half expected her to, didn’t act on the desire his treacherous body made so bloody evident. She simply cast away her cigarette, then ran her fingers down the length of his arms before slowly, so fucking slowly made her way up again.
When her touch finally came to a stop on his shoulders, he was practically ready to come.
“I don’t expect anything from you,” she whispered, a silent, fierce determination underlining the light tremors in her voice. “I won’t hold you to some imaginary promise you never made. Just a kiss, nothing more. If you want it.”
5
Some Half-Assed Excuse
The look in his eyes—the one that made it clear it would be more—set her heart racing.
Still, Lily’s offer had been sincere. If William didn’t want to take this attraction any further, she wasn’t going to push him. For reasons she couldn’t fathom, he seemed torn enough as it was, and she just wasn’t the kind of person who would pursue someone who wasn’t—or fought not to be—interested.
Stalk their photos on the internet for a while, sure. But she certainly had no intention of popping into his life at regular intervals in an attempt to try to win him over.
The only thing she did want, however, was an answer. Hopefully accompanied with a kiss. Even if it was the first and last one she would ever get from him.
Maybe forgetting about William bloody Charleston would be infinitely harder this way, but she’d already let too many opportunities in her life go to waste just because she was too reserved to give it a shot.
Well, she’d be damned if she ran off before offering William a chance to decide.
Wallowing in regret for the rest of her life wasn’t exactly a prospect Lily looked forward to, especially after she’d already made such progress and formed actual sentences instead of gulping down her wine and hiding in a corner as she normally would have done.
Only the blush that warmed her cheeks remained—a testimony to that shy part of her that didn’t step aside despite this unfamiliar confidence taking the wheel. Or maybe it was just the attraction, electrifying the air and hardening her nipples to the point where she wanted to moan and beg him to take one in his mouth, that gave her the necessary boost.
Fucking hell, and now she was stuck with that image in her mind. Her hormones stirred, the slick sensation between her thighs increasing.
“How about you have coffee with me tomorrow?” William’s breath brushed against her skin. “And we’ll see where we’ll go from there.”
She tilted her head to the side, barely resisting to lean forward and snog the life out of him. “When and where?”
“Do you know that Irish pub, two streets south from here?” He lined her bottom lip with his thumb as she nodded. “At seven?”
Honestly, she didn’t think she’d last until seven, but she agreed.
Good lord, she actually had a date with William Charleston.
William bloody Charleston with his fucking silver-touched hair and arms to die for.
This had to be a dream.
But the man standing before her was undoubtedly real. Felt real. He was watching her with those mesmerizing eyes, now green, his face still so close Lily knew she could have his lips on hers if she moved just a tiniest bit towards him. And she wanted to. God, she really, really wanted to.
But what if that made her seem to eager? Someone who was in it for a quick dash of fun instead of—
Wait… Instead of what? No, she wouldn’t even go there.
Figuring out what this madness truly meant was a task that required a full glass of wine and Audrey’s company.
If only William weren’t so fucking close.
She shoved down the groan of frustration that climbed up her throat. “Well”—she smiled, silently cursing how breathless she sounded—“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Tomorrow.”
William still wasn’t moving. And neither was she.
It was like her body flat-out refused to peel itself away.
“What?” he asked, mirth touching the corners of those damned attractive lips.
She opened her mouth to make some half-assed excuse, but before she could get a single sound out, William’s hand snaked around her neck, drawing her to him. Her mind barely registered what was happening when the crush of his mouth scattered everything even remotely resembling rational thought.
His lips were soft, plying hers apart with the gentlest of pressure that was so at odds with the burning need spreading through her flesh. She moaned as the taste of him exploded on her tongue, her back arching under the weight of pleasure.
Fuck, the man was good.
There was nothing sloppy about the kiss, nothing timid, either. He claimed her mouth with hunger and that toe-curling touch of possession she was all too eager to submit to.
She didn’t even notice they’d moved until her back hit the wall, her arms now around William’s neck and his body pressing into hers. Nothing mattered but the feel of him, the taste of him, the possibilities laid bare between them…
“This is dangerous,” he whispered into her mouth, then traced his lips down the curve of her neck. “Too dangerous.”
Although she wasn’t sure how, she managed to say, “Why?”
William pulled back enough to meet her gaze, but their bodies remained touching, the hard length of his cock making it next to impossible to think about anything else but how it would be to run her tongue all the way to the tip. She was willing to bet every inch of him would taste just as good.
As if sensing just how bloody aroused she was, William ground against her—just a small movement, but one that left her panties dripping.
“It’s dangerous because I have half the mind to take you inside and find someplace warm. Private. Where you wouldn’t mind losing your coat,”—he kissed one corner of her lips—“your shirt,”—then the other—“your skirt.”
By the time he looked at her again, she was trembling. Heat burned between her thighs, the ache to feel him buried inside her almost too strong to bear.
“And why would that be so bad?” she rasped.
In all honesty, she couldn’t imagine anything better than dropping all those unnecessary layers of clothing.
To hell with someplace warm, she’d be willing to do it right here.
“Because I don’t want to fuck you, Lily Summers.”
She flinched at his words even as a part of her reveled in the way he said fuck.
His gaze dipped from her eyes to her mouth, then back up again. “I want to make love to you.”
6
Mid-Life Crisis
Mornings had never been William’s favorite part of the day, but when he woke up with a smile and a hard-on like he hadn’t had in years, he had to admit it wasn’t all that bad. Actually, it wasn’t bad at all. He lounged under the covers, his hand wrapped around his cock, and thought of Lily Summers.
Watching her walk away the previous night had been difficult, but it had also been the right thing to do. He couldn’t just take her in some bloody gallery like he was still in his twenties and cruising the world one misguided pussy at a time. He’d wanted to, but Lily deserved more.
Although, if that were the case, then she definitely didn’t deserve him muddying her life at all.
Hell, if he hadn’t opened his mouth about the whole not-into-casual thing, this would have been so much easier. On both of them.
Not your call, mate, he thought.
The moment he chose to chat her up in that bloody parking lot, the ball wasn’t only in his court any longer. And anything he did—or didn’t do—was roped into a longer, wider string of events he only had partial control of.
So they would have their coffee, and maybe she’d see he wasn’t all that fun to be around on a normal day, let alone in a relationship. Then she’d smile and take that fabulous ass to someone who was worth it.
And he—well, he could keep jerking off to how fucking sweet she’d tasted because he was the tosser who said all or nothing. Jerking off to the memory of how her breasts had dug into his chest under her coat, full and firm, a bloody brilliant mouthful, if she’d let him take them.
Groaning, he envisioned sliding his cock between those two perfect mounds, then pushing himself into her mouth, Lily’s lips leaving traces of that Old Hollywood orange on him as he came closer and closer to exploding all over her tongue. He grunted, increasing the rhythm and pressure of his strokes to match what Lily would have undoubtedly done once she felt him throbbing between her lips.
He thought of those green eyes looking up at him, imagined how she would take him inside all the way to the hilt.
That woman was going to be the death of him.
“Fuck!” The cry ripped itself from his chest, his body shuddering as he came, long and hard, the sheer force of his orgasm snatching Lily’s face from his mind.
He ran his hand down his length once more, pretty certain Lily Summers was the kind of girl who swallowed.
“Christ,” he exhaled. If the dirty old man stereotype needed a poster boy, he might as well volunteer.
Still, the smile continued to cling to the corners of his lips even as he rolled out of bed and marched into the bathroom. At least now he was a bit more confident he could get through their coffee without sporting a bloody tent in his pants the entire time.
He gave his reflection a nice, long look. Due to good genes, he was fit for a man in his mid-forties despite spending too much time in pubs instead of exercising over the past few years. He wasn’t some twenty-something Adonis, but Lily didn’t seem the type to go for those blokes.
