“I missed you,” he whispered against her lips.
She said nothing, somewhat tongue-tied and a tiny bit scared. She was afraid to speak, because she didn’t know what she wanted to say.
Trey drowned the sound of his orgasm against her skin, nipping her shoulder. His body trembled against her. Lilith unwound her legs from around him, but didn’t let him go right away. She felt just a bit dizzy and rested her forehead against his as they waited for his breathing to even out.
When he opened his eyes, his smile was small, pleased. He brushed her cheek with the back of his knuckles and kissed her once.
Then he pulled away.
Lilith had the odd urge to pout, but he only let her go long enough to haul his pants back up. He took her by the hand. When he looked at her, his expression was so soft, her breath caught for a moment.
Something had changed. Lilith couldn’t put her finger on it, but something was different. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was . . .
It was different.
She was about to pull her hand loose to go into the bathroom alone when he blurted, “Would you like to take a bath?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to take a bath?”
Maybe that was the difference. They’d had something of a fight, and he wasn’t sure what their dynamic should be. But they were still on his dime. He called the shots, and it was time she reminded him of that.
“I’d like that,” he said with a sheepish smile.
Lilith was excited. His tub was one of those huge, fancy numbers with jets and all sorts of lovely additions. It was contoured, for fuck’s sake. She’d had fantasies of bathing in that tub. So she was eager as she wiped down the tub and started the hot water. She turned to him, helping him undress in between the long, slow kisses she knew he enjoyed.
They got in the tub, and Lilith couldn’t help but relax. The hot water was heaven, and getting to use Trey as a headrest was a perk to be sure. They chatted about nothing and everything, as per usual.
It was nice.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” He was kissing along her shoulder, up to her ear, so his voice vibrated against her skin. “I got you something.”
Lilith froze. “What?”
If he noticed her sudden discomfort, he didn’t let on. His hands were making lazy circles against her thigh under the water. “I got you something. It’s just—”
“No.”
He lifted his head.
Twisting her body so she could face him, she took a deep breath. “No gifts.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not a fucking courtesan or any other romantic idea you got goin’ in your head. You pay me what I’m worth and no more than that.”
He stared at her, something Lilith couldn’t name flashing in his eyes. “I could never pay you what you’re worth.” His voice disappeared into a whisper at the end, and then it was Lilith who was staring.
The moment was pregnant, and Lilith found she wanted to smile, wanted to be pleased. It was such a nice thing to say—maybe the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her.
But she couldn’t afford for them not to be clear. “You don’t . . .” She had to swallow before she could continue speaking. “You’re not confusing what this is, right? We’re still on the same page? It hasn’t gotten twisted?”
Trey studied her for a long moment, his mouth open as though he was about to speak. Whatever he was going to say though, he must have changed his mind because he closed his eyes and kissed the tip of her nose, his cockier smile making an appearance for the first time that day. “I know what this is.”
She relaxed, but there was the weirdest twinge of regret at the center of her chest, as though part of her had wanted a different answer.
“Good,” she said, resting against him again.
He didn’t speak but nuzzled the side of her head with his nose, his fingers resuming their questing circles up her thigh.
Chapter 11
“Okay, okay. Your turn, Lilith.”
If it weren’t for Mal, Lilith would have glared daggers at Erin. She knew damn well Lilith was trying to sink into the background. She was tempted to break her own rules about having to make sure the birthday boy had a great day no matter what her personal cost. After all, Mal had been an asshole on her birthday; he wouldn’t be able to blame her if she sniped at his girlfriend on his.
But then, Dana hadn’t done anything to her, and it was her birthday, too.
Lilith climbed to her knees on the booth, lifting her glass of Pepsi aloft. “Well, um. Let’s see. To Malcolm and Dana for making it through twenty-one years. Here’s to being able to burn those crap fake IDs we got ages ago.”
Everyone cheered, tossing back their shots. Lilith sipped her soda, watching everyone else laugh and joke. She shrank back out of the way as one of Mal’s friends from school leaned over her to shout something over the din of the bar.
“I’ll, um . . . I’ll get you guys another drink. On me.” She had to smack Mal on the shoulder to get his and Dana’s attention. When they turned her way, she forced a smile. “Drinks. Alcoholic beverages. Legal boozeage. What do you want, kids?”
By the time she got an intelligible answer out of them, her patience was wearing about as thin as a communion wafer. It was all she could do to keep from breaking out into a sprint, eager to get away from the crowd of rowdy friends.
It was tiring being around Mal and Dana’s friends. Her thoughts tended to wander. Not many people could hold her attention. Rather than try to concentrate on their silliness or whatever they were prattling about, her thoughts retreated back into whatever books she was reading or show she was watching. She didn’t think she was missing much. People talked about nonsense more often than not. The struggle was in managing people’s expectations. They expected her to be part of the conversation. They expected answers when they asked questions.
Retaining what they’d said, being all the way present was exhausting.
Lilith leaned against the bar, waiting her turn. She looked back to the table where everyone else was gathered. Already, the others had spread out, engulfing the space she’d occupied as if she hadn’t been there at all. It was nice in a lot of ways. Not so long ago, she was Mal and Dana’s one friend. That they had expanded to a small cluster of peers was good. Good for them.
They all looked happy, relaxed. Lilith wondered if she was a snob. She wasn’t so easily amused or entertained by anecdotes. Maybe that’s why she disliked gatherings so much. She just felt . . . other.
Lilith frowned at herself. What a melodramatic thing to think. It was more likely she didn’t have anything in common with these kids. Their stories were all about school or work. What was she going to do—tell them about the whole debacle with Frank? Wouldn’t that be a roof raiser.
That thought, like every other in her head that evening, faded away. She’d spaced out, thinking about the myriad shows that had just gone on spring hiatus. So many twists—some of them more shocking than others. Some of them had her on tenterhooks while—
“Hey!”
Lilith snapped her head up. The bartender was staring at her with a tired but bemused expression. “Can I get ya something, hon, or are you just holding up the bar?”
“Er . . .” Lilith flushed when she realized she couldn’t recall what Mal and Dana wanted.
She had just about decided to wing it when a broad figure stepped up to her, leaning with his back against the bar. “I think she looks like a Mai Tai kind of gal.”
Lilith was startled. The size of him gave her a brief heart attack. On first glance she thought for sure he was Frank, come to give her even more trouble. Wouldn’t that have been just her luck? But the smooth, friendly lilt to his voice and the familiar way he leaned with his back against the bar caught her attention before she could bolt.
Almost as soon as she relaxed, thinking she’d caught a break, she realized that was not, in fact, the case. While she was ecstatic the man looking at her now was not Frank, s
he was dismayed to find herself looking into very familiar eyes. Trey’s eyes.
The man in front of her was Trey’s brother, Will.
“Tell me if I’m right.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. Of course he was flirting with her. Of course. “It’s on me either way.”
“Um.” This was an awkward situation, and one of them knew why. It was very obvious Will didn’t recognize her. Of course he wouldn’t. She wasn’t dressed as a little school girl, for one thing, and for another, that had been a good five months ago.
Five months. Where had the time gone?
But there was no time for that musing. Will was looking at her expectantly. Lilith felt more on edge by the second. Years of practice kept her unease from her face. She matched Will’s charming smile. “You’re welcome to buy me a Pepsi. I’m afraid I’ve pulled DD duty. See, my friends over there—” she pointed to the booth where Mal and Dana were the center of attention “—just turned twenty-one, and I’m afraid they expect to be paid attention to.”
Will made a mock scandalized face. “Some people are just rude,” he said, shaking his head. “Well, if that doesn’t deserve a Pepsi, I don’t know what does.” He turned to the bartender. “One Pepsi on my tab, please.”
“And two Mai Tais. I’ll pay for them straight up.”
They chit-chatted for a few minutes while they waited. When her drinks came, Lilith gave Will an apologetic smile. “Thanks for the Pepsi.”
He winked at her. “Remember me next time.” He was an easygoing guy, but then, Lilith had known that. As she walked back to the table, it occurred to Lilith she knew a lot about Will.
His full name was William Stephen Bauer—a fact he loved to rub in his younger brother’s face. His father had been dead set against naming a child after himself and his father before him only to amend that viewpoint two years later when Trey was born. Like his brother, he too had graduated early from high school. He was working toward his doctorate in physics. They might have been trust fund babies, but the Bauer brothers had no intention of frittering bits and pieces of their fortune away doing nothing.
“I wouldn’t put it past Will to build his own lab if he can’t find one that will listen to him,” Trey had told her once. The pride written all over his face had been unmistakable.
Back at the table, Lilith’s mind began to wander again, but not so far. She looked at each of her friends’ friends, listing what she knew about them in her head. At most, she knew their first and last name and where they’d met Dana or Mal.
Yet she knew so much about Will, who didn’t know her from Eve. If she’d found herself in a longer conversation with him, she would have had any number of things to chat about. Her familiarity with Will stemmed from the startling amount of personal information she knew about Trey.
She looked across the bar to where Will had rejoined his own friends. If she thought hard enough, she could probably guess at who they were based on the stories Trey had told her. What did it mean that she knew Trey so well his brother was familiar to her even though they’d exchanged ten minutes worth of words? The only people she knew with any kind of depth were Dana and Mal; it had been that way for almost a decade now.
But what did knowledge mean at the end of the day? There was no reason she should feel so disconcerted at Trey’s life brushing hers outside his bedroom.
As much as Lilith tried to tell herself she was being ridiculous, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was changing, and she wasn’t at all sure she liked it.
~0~
The warmth in Trey’s apartment was near perfect. That was a sign of how rich he was: When he set his heating unit to 70 degrees, every room in the place was that temperature and not a point higher.
The cozy air could be trouble. Sometimes, Lilith got a little too comfortable. Sometimes, in the aftermath of whatever activity they’d been up to, the warmth seeped down to her bones and drowsiness got the better of her.
She was thrust back into consciousness when her pillow growled at her. It took her a few bleary seconds to realize she was not, in fact, resting on a pillow. She had her ear pressed against Trey’s stomach. Judging by the noises it was making, he hadn’t eaten in a week.
Chuckling, Lilith got upright. She yawned and looked around, trying to figure out where her shirt had gone. Lilith tried not to wake Trey as she peeled through the rumpled blankets, but she failed. He gave a disgruntled grunt, coming awake slower than she had.
“What’s happening?” he mumbled when he was coherent enough to speak.
“I’m leaving, and you need to feed whatever beast you swallowed. He’s snarling up a storm.”
Trey looked adorably confused until his stomach chimed in. With gusto. “Oh.” He smirked as he stretched. “I don’t want you to leave yet.”
Lilith sat on the edge of his bed, but before she could respond to that, her stomach gave a growl of its own. “We’ve been here for hours already. You need to get something to eat.”
“So do you.” He yawned. “We can take a shower and go get something.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
His eyes were more alert when he looked up again, proffering her shirt from where it had been hiding under his pillow. “I’m not worried about you. I’d just like to have lunch with you.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Well, lunch isn’t on my list of services.”
For a second, he looked tired, wary, but he swallowed hard and tilted his head at her, giving her a teasingly condescending smile. “Lilith, I’m not asking you to lunch as a client. I’m asking you to lunch as a friend.”
Lilith wasn’t hungry at all then. Her stomach was too busy doing little flip-flops to remember it was empty. “That’s not a good idea.”
He groaned and flopped back down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Would it be the end of the world to have lunch with a friend? Why is that not a good idea? It’s lunch, and I’m pretty sure people have lunch together all the time. Some of them don’t even like each other. They just do it for the company.”
“You haven’t thought this through at all. I know you saw what I was wearing when I walked in here.”
Of course he’d seen what she was wearing. When she went to these private appointments, she didn’t always dress in any kind of costume, but she didn’t dress down either. She’d taken full advantage of the wide range of skimpy skirts, corsets, too-tight shirts, and everything else from the club. Smith kept their closets well stocked.
Trey sat up again, draping his arms over his knees as he looked at her. “We can remedy that. We’ll just drop by your place. You can change. We can eat. Easy.”
The idea made Lilith’s throat tight. “No.”
“You’re making a bigger deal of this than it needs to be,” he said with a sigh. “This is not a big deal. Friends can—”
“We are not friends.” The minute the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them, but she couldn’t take it back. It needed to be said.
Trey looked down at the blankets, and Lilith felt awful. She’d seen the hurt that flitted across his features before his face was hidden from her.
“Why aren’t we friends?” There was a challenge to the words though Trey’s tone was still light. “I already told you—”
“I’ve heard everything you’ve said.” Trey was too convincing when he wanted to be, and she needed to keep a clear head about this. “You are stupid smart, Trey. I know you have to understand what’s going on here.”
At that, he looked up again, and there was a touch of hardness to his eyes Lilith had never seen before. “Maybe you should tell me what you’re talking about.” His words were measured, his voice lower than usual.
Getting to her feet, Lilith began to pace, wringing her hands because why was this not obvious to him? Why was he making her spell out what he should have already known? It wasn’t atypical for her clients to spin little stories in their heads as to what was going on between them, but when all was said and done, they returned to reality. “
You pay me to enjoy your company.”
To her surprise, he didn’t react at all but kept looking right at her. “You’re telling me you don’t enjoy my company at all? I don’t believe that.”
As usual, unable to find her own words, she drew on someone else’s. “ ‘I get paid to make men believe what they want to believe.’ ”
Trey narrowed his eyes, and Lilith swore for a moment he was going to call her on her line. “So what you’ll have me believe is that every minute you’ve spent with me—when you laughed, when you listened—every single thing was an act.”
Lilith had to turn away. She felt sick to her stomach, like she was going throw up any second. “I’m not saying you aren’t the coolest client I’ve ever had—”
“No, tell me.” She heard the rustle as he got to his feet, and before she could react, he was in front of her, his hands on her shoulders. “Look at me.”
She couldn’t.
“Look at me.” His tone was gentle, but no less a command.
She looked at him.
“Tell me to my face. Look me in the eye, and tell me you don’t enjoy my company.” He paused. “You’re right, Lilith. I’m a very smart man. I know there’s some bravado to what you do, but until you say the words, right now, to my face, I will not believe we get along because you’re being paid.”
Lilith opened her mouth.
Tell him it was all a lie. Every minute. Just tell him.
It would hurt him, but he would understand. Maybe all of this would be over, but maybe that was a good thing, a better thing.
Lilith closed her mouth. Her throat was so dry. It was difficult to think over the thud, thud, thud of her heart pounding in her ears.
When she opened her mouth, for the first time in recent memory, she found she couldn’t lie. “I like you,” she whispered. There was almost no volume to her voice.
A small smile tugged at the edge of his lips, as though he was fighting a much broader grin. “Well, good. I like you, too. Now don’t you think it’s permissible for two people who like each other to have a meal together?”
Duplicity Page 8
