Lily
Is this how Cinderella felt at midnight, torn from the ball and her prince, and from her fairy tale happily ever after?
I bet. Only I don’t have any hope of Luke and I being anything more than what binds us now, an alibi and a desire to keep living peacefully in Potentia.
Afraid he’ll catch on, I’ve been trying all through our date to be pleasant and positive, but I’m losing my grip as the night comes to an end and he drives home. I’m glad he’s decided to play his music—it gives us something to talk about.
Part of me wishes I were headed home to be alone to sort out my confused reaction to Luke tonight. And maybe I’d be able to answer some of the myriad of questions running circles around my head, such as how can a man change so dramatically in a few hours?
Luke arrived on my doorstep for our date, looking like himself, talking and holding himself like the Luke Hanley I was accustomed to, but he wasn’t my boss.
It clicked now. I was seeing him as just plain old Luke, outside the office. That night Russ dragged me to see him I was facing the office Luke, not Friday-date night Luke.
Of course, even plain old Luke didn’t do casual. He is wearing his suit like a second skin. The deep red-wine blazer plays on his eyes. The stark white shirt, black tie, and black slacks pop out in their clean, sharp lines.
Realizing I’m staring, I tune into his question. He’s inviting me to change the music, his tone implying he assumes I’ve grown tired of his choices.
“No, that’s fine,” I say quickly, my gaze veering back to my window. We’re close now. Another few minutes and we’ll be at his place.
I guess I’ll have to hold myself together, but for how long? Until he screws me again? Until I mess up our air-tight alibi and give Detective Art Dayton what he came around looking for?
“Lily.” Luke’s calling me.
I blink out the window, recognizing the garage the car is now facing. It’s Luke’s home.
Thinking about Dayton makes me lose it. The tears threaten. Luke exits the car as I press the heels of my palms to my burning eyes, ducking my head, the doubts and fears a heavy load in there.
My car door opens, a whoosh of cool air licking my calves, the stockings doing nothing to keep off the chilly autumn night. Luke’s hands are gentle. They unbuckle the seat belt, loosening some of the pressure off my chest, and they turn me in my seat into his hard, strong chest.
He smells wonderful, and his soft, deep voice is sanding away the flood of anxiety and hopelessness that was threatening to drown me.
“Lily?” He draws me back, hands framing my cheeks, thumbs sweeping carefully under my eyes.
I lift my mouth, my gaze falling over his lips. I want him to kiss me; I’d like to pretend for a little while longer. When his mouth touches mine, the world feels right. I’m in control of at least one thing for now, knowing he wants me as much as I want him.
The kiss reaches a bruising level, and that pain helps me gather myself. If I’m going to break this up, I should at least go out with a bang.
“Inside,” Luke’s command is pressed to my mouth. He moves back, letting me step out of the car, and closing the door after me. He ushers me to the path and stairs leading to his back door.
It’s a path I took last night with Russ. Funny how unsure and terrified I was then, and now I’m back, Luke’s arms around my waist, my shaking hands pressed to my chest.
Back at my boss’s house, and this time I’ve initiated the delicate steps to sex. I slip off my shoes, glad to be rid of them. My toes wiggle, relishing the cool, hardwood flooring in Luke’s condo. Anticipation zings through me, heating my blood and drumming my heart.
At my side, Luke loosens his tie with one hand, and then he releases me with another sharp, throaty order, “Undress.”
I work on my clothes while he gets through his. If we want to strip quicker, we need both our hands freed for this part. I don’t get too far. I’m stuck on the zipper of my dress.
Luke steps up and I turn at his silent gesturing. He slowly frees me of the dress, his warm, smooth hand skimming over my back, his touch reverently stroking my flesh, following my dress down. The stockings are next and then his hands cup and weigh my butt cheeks over my underwear; they knead and spread me apart.
The only thing missing is a sexy thong. Having Luke’s fingers reaching between my legs from the back and stroking my clothed clit remind me of my unflattering but practical boyshort undies. Like my strapless bra, the undies are black and lackluster but provide all the support I need.
I’m easy on myself. This isn’t going to happen again, so I could scratch off sexy lingerie from my list. Once Luke works his magic, we’re through, but right now, he’s all mine.
So I whine at his removing his hand to answer his ringing phone, the sound sharp and insistent. Has he had it on all night? Probably; he’s Luke Hanley, a man I picture taking calls at all hours of the day.
“Yeah?” Luke answers, his irritation wearing off at my explorative touch. He holds me to his side, and I happily skim my hand over his bare chest, my lips kissing one of his brown nipples, suckling the pebbly flesh. He’s growling a response in the phone and I smile knowing I’m the cause.
“Not what I want to hear,” he says.
I reach over to pinch his other nipple and his arm tightens around my waist, his hand moving then to cup my ass, squeeze one cheek until I’m moaning and breaking off from mouthing him, my forehead kissing his pec.
“Later.” He’s off the phone.
I perch my chin on his chest and the smile I have ready falters.
Luke is scowling fiercely. It’s a mood killer.
“That was Russ.” His words are weighty. They’re supposed to have an effect on me. They do, only not immediately. “Lily, anything you’d like to tell me?”
Then as if I haven’t gotten the hint, he sucks in a breath, exhaling with, “Like something about a certain detective of the fine Potentia police force?”
“I was going to tell you.” I pull away from him.
He pushes me back, his hand on my ass holding me fast to him. And his glower tells me he won’t be letting go until he’s satisfied with whatever I have to report.
“Out with it, Lily. I’m not playing games.”
“Fine,” I sputter. “Ask nicely, why don’t you?”
Luke lowers his head, this new angle of his hard stare sending skitters up and down my spine, and they’re not entirely unwanted. It’s so caveman of him. Next he’ll toss me over his shoulder and drag me off to his bedroom, torture me with his talented hands, force the story with Art Dayton out of me.
His mouth moves closer, his warm breath puffing over my quivering lips. I want him to kiss me.
“You get nothing while this hangs over us, sweet thing.”
“You’re mean,” I huff, turning my head away and pouting. But cornered as I am, I give him what he wants more right now.
“It was a little before you arrived. He stopped by with questions about a body they found in an abandoned car.”
I pause there, pushing past the beginnings of hot bile flavoring my tongue at the memory of the body in that trunk with Russ and his other thug standing over their victim. “He said he saw my car at the lot in the dealership. That he had reliable sources matching a description of another vehicle at the lot as well.”
“Reliable sources, huh? He said that?” Luke’s clean-shaven jaw clenched. His evergreen eyes bore through me, like they could extricate the story out that way. Or maybe reach into my memory and punch Art in his nosy face.
Shrugging, I say, “That’s what he said. I didn’t ask about it though, and I seriously doubt he’d tell me.”
“That’s it?”
I shake my head slowly, remembering another detail. “He left me his card, told me I could call him whenever. He asked me about Potentia then, and asked if I liked it here.” I frown, adding, “That was weird, but I figured he was trying small talk after dumping the load of his investigation on me. He didn’t hint that he was going to stop by again though.”
“That doesn’t mean he won’t.” Luke moves his hand away, freeing me. He’s off, heading toward the stairs in only his slacks and socks. “Make yourself comfortable,” he calls back.
I drag my eyes down my body, taking in my semi-nude state. “Really?” I mutter, peeved.
Taking a seat on his couch, I wait with my arms folded over my middle and my dress back on but the back hanging open. I’m still fuming when he returns, a few minutes later, a tablet in hand.
He sets it down on the glossy, white coffee table, pointing out to the vaguely familiar man on the screen. “Is that your detective?”
“Yeah,” I nod, releasing a bit of my anger, curiosity supplanting the irritation of Luke’s leaving me hanging in the middle of what was to be the final time I had sex with my boss. This is for the better though. Giving Luke this information about the detective might be a better way to go with this alibi of ours.
“But he looks different,” I note. Seeing as I have Luke’s undivided attention, I point out the differences of the man on his tablet and the man who visited me today in my apartment.
“So, no beard, no scruffy clothes, and he wasn’t using a cane,” Luke sums up my points. He takes a long look at the screen, at the photo of Art, and he bobs his head, once, sharply. His phone is out and he hits a button. “Russ.”
So he has his hitman on speed dial…That isn’t weird at all.
“Yeah, look into it. But keep it under wraps. No one should know this is happening.” Luke gives his orders, his tone brooking no argument. Off the phone again, he studies the image. His gaze is so intent, I don’t see how he knows I’m inching away. But he does.
His hand moves fast, sliding over to grip my thigh.
“I should probably get going,” I say, casually.
Luke regards me with furrowed brows. “I’d like for you to stay, Lily.”
How does he make my name sound so…sinful? I have to ward off the urge to lean in, beg him to take me upstairs and continue what we started before Art Dayton distracted him. I fight myself, turning from what I want so badly.
“Luke—Mister Hanley, I should get going. We can talk about the alibi later.” I lower my voice near the end of that statement, particularly on the ‘alibi’ part. I don’t believe it’s the reason Luke has my thigh in a tightening grip.
“We talk now,” he says.