9: Lia.
“My chakras,” I repeat, leaning back to look her over. Fuck. Now
that she’s inside, I can see those black, see–through tights end
just below the hem of her T–shirt. If she bent forward, those
sweet curves of her buns would be right there for the taking-
and oh, I plan to take.
Hard.
“Yes, your chakras.” Her expression is very solemn. Even a little
worried. For me. ”
can’t see what I see, Big Daddy.” Nimble
fingers dance over my shoulders, digging into pressure points
and massaging. “All this locked–up tension.”
Her fingers find a knot and I groan, “That’s what you’re here for,
Lia.”
Is she blushing? This girl who seduced me in my office? “Yes, I
am.” She chews on her luscious lip a moment. “But I was
thinking…when was the last time you went out?”
“Out where? To eat? I had a business dinner earlier this week.”
“Let me rephrase. When was the last time you went out when it
wasn’t work–related?”
I flip back through my mental calendar containing engagements from the last year and I can’t think of a single time I did anything if money wasn’t on the line. “I don’t know.”
Her blue eyes flicker with sympathy, then determination. “Come on.” She picks up her purse, hanging it on her shoulder. “Let’s
go.”
“Lia.” Shaking my head, I catch the front of her T–shirt and haul her up against me. “No more of your cock teasing. I need to
fuck you. Badly.”
“I know,” she breathes–and there’s that vulnerability again. It
makes her look startlingly young. Innocent. A little girl in front of
her Big Daddy. “I…I…”
Following instinct, I fold her into my arms, shocked at the level.
of comfort/l get out of holding her, offering her security. “What
is it, baby?”
“I’m a little nervous about tonight. M–my first time,” she
whispers into my throat. “Maybe if we go out for a while, I’ll quit
wondering if I’ll be good enough. Or if I’ll be what you’re hoping
for-”
I interrupt her with a sound of utter disbelief, leaning back to
see if she’s joking. And…she’s not. She’s actually serious. “Are
you forgetting you made me come in my pants at the office?”
Lia
“No.” A hint of a proud smile dances across her lips. “I’ll never
forget. But talking…a big game is what I’m best at. You know?
Flaunting and flirting. I’ve never had to deliver.” She runs her
hands up my chest and releases an uneven breath, her eyes
going a little hazy. “I really, really want to deliver, I’m just…”
“You need foreplay.”
Inhaling the scent from my shirt collar, she nods. “I think so,
yes.” Her body presses to mine and I indulge the insistent need to envelop her in a hug, rocking her side to side in her big girl
tights and high heels, ignoring the agonizing pain between my
legs. I give this girl what she needs. I’m her…Big Daddy. It’s
getting easier and easier to think in those terms. The dynamic
between us is slightly twisted and a whole lot intoxicating. Do I
want to carry her into the bedroom and bang her rotten on that
extra–large bed? Yes. Fuck yes. I want to look into her big blue
eyes and watch them widen when I pop her cherry.
But I’m also driven to provide what she needs. And if she needs.
time to calm her nerves, there is no way I’m going to deny her,
no matter what my body wants.
“You’re not old enough to go to a bar,” I say dryly, combing my
fingers through her long, icy–blonde hair. “Where do you propose
we go?”
She leans back and gives me a dazzling smile that sends my
9: Lia.
heart flying up into my throat. “I know the perfect place.”
Lia.
Oh my God, he is so hot.
Does he know I get wetter every time he adjusts his belt buckle?
of craz
Standing outside Wonderbluss, I call myself nine kinds
for wanting to leave the hotel room. He could be on top of me
right now, pressing me down with his full, delicious weight,
taking his male relief with my body. I could be giving myself to
him. Completely. My body would finally belong to Tristan, joining
the heart he claimed a long time ago.
But I meant what I said. I’m nervous.
I spent all day trying on outfits and binging espresso. Lotioning.
Pacing.
Tristan is a powerful man. I’m a virgin with a fast mouth.
What if I’ve oversold myself and then I underdeliver?
What if, in the end, he only wants sex from me and breaks my
heart?
9th.
What if-
“What is this place?” Tristan asks, opening the door for me.
“Oh, um…” Grateful for the cool, dark interior of the
establishment, I rein in my wayward thoughts. “It’s a series of
rooms with art installations for adults. It’s meant to stimulate
the senses.” We stop in front of a black, floor–to–ceiling velvet
curtain and Tristan pays the indifferent man at the front desk. A
moment later, we enter the broad, pitch–black hallway and I
thread my fingers through Tristan’s, giggling over the skepticism
I can feel radiating from his big body.
“Pick a door. Trust me.”
We stop in the middle of the empty hallway and he scans the
series of doors, each of them painted in a different neon color.
“Is this your way of balancing my chakras?”
I give him an impish grin. “It’s a start.”
Clearly still dubious, he tips his chin at the orange door. “That
one, I guess.”
“Don’t sound so–nervous,” I laugh, towing him in that direction.
“It’s perfectly safe. They discontinued the interactive piranha
exhibit.”
He does a double take. “What?”
La.
“Only kidding.” I smirk at him as I pry open the door and pull him inside–and we come to a halt underneath the thousands of
black lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling. They pulse in a slow rhythm, the low sounds of a heartbeat pumping from an unseen source. “What do you think? I’ve been here a couple of times,
but they change the installations monthly.”
When he doesn’t answer, I glance upward to find him looking
down at me. “You’re all lit up,” he murmurs thickly, tugging on my hand and positioning me in front of him, one of those thick
forearms wrapping at the front of my hips, his steady
breath on the crown of my head. And I am, indeed, all lit up, the blacklights making the material of my T–shirt glow. “I was
thinking about what you said before. About talking a big game,
but not having to deliver.”
I swallow hard. “Yeah?”
“Is that how it’s always been?”
My head drops back against his chest and we sway beneath the lightbulbs. “Yes, actually,” I say slowly, considering the question.
“The night before my first day of kindergarten, I was so nervous.
I couldn’t sleep, my stomach was tied up in knots. Back then, my grandmother was living with us. She used to be a movie star
did you know that?”
“I didn’t,” he says warmly. “You must have her genes.”
9 Lia
“I like to think so,” I murmur, tilting my head to one side so he
can kiss my temple, my cheek. “She told me the secret to success is faking it until you make it. Walk in like you own the place, kiddo, and everyone will believe it. That’s what she told me and I’ve never forgotten.” I turn in Tristan’s arms, locking my
wrists behind his neck. “That method has always worked for me. Until tonight. You make me feel…exposed. And I can’t hide that.”
“I don’t want you to.” His big hand slides down my back, his thumb digging into the base of my spine, dragging upward until I moan, pressing against him on my tiptoes. “You’re supposed to expose yourself to mo
I’m supposed to make you feel safe
enough to do that. I don’t know how I’m so aware of…these
roles we need to play for each other, but they feel…”
“Natural,” I supply, breathless.
“Yes,” he says hoarsely, dragging his bottom lip through his teeth. Clearly wanting to devour me, but holding himself back.
Waiting for me to be ready. “You pick the next room.
Barely stopping myself from wrapping my legs around his hips and demanding to be taken back to the hotel, I kiss Tristanr’s
stubbled chin softly and guide him out of the room, pulling him
down the hallway to a door painted white. Tristan opens the
door for me and I gasp at the beauty before me. Cherry trees. bloom everywhere. Of course, they’re not real, but they look
entirely genuine. Giant fans are mounted to the ceiling, blowing
the branches, giving the effect of standing on a hillside in Japan
in the springtime. Pink and white petals blow off the trees and
circle the air, landing in my hair, on Tristan’s shoulders.
“I bet you’re not thinking about work right now,” I whisper out of
deference to the peaceful atmosphere, finding my spot in
Tristan’s arms so I can witness his appreciation for the exhibit
up close:
“You’re right,” he says, a groove forming between his brows as
he observes the blowing trees, then looks down at me, his gaze
running a lap around my face. “Work is the furthest thing from
my mind right now.”
A triumphant smile spreads across my face and he curses.
“Jesus Christ, you are so damn beautiful,” he grunts, shaking his
head and laughing without humor. “I’m glad no one else is here.
They’d wonder what the hell you’re doing with me.”
My smile fades as rapidly as it appeared, the walls of my throat
constricting. “What? No they wouldn’t. Why would you say that?”
“Come on, Lia.” He slides his hand up beneath my long T–shirt,
gripping my backside roughly. “The only way a man like me gets
to tap this is if he’s paying for it.”
“A man like you? What does that mean?”
With an impatient sound, Tristan leads me out of the room. I jog
along behind him feeling numb, anxious for an explanation. In the hallway, we stop outside of a red door. But instead of
entering, he turns to look down at me, clearly trying to find the
right words. Impatient with himself. “You don’t need to hear my
shit.”
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.