“Are you sure about this?” he asked. “My scars aren’t pretty.”
“I promise to focus on your abs,” she murmured without looking up. “And lower.”
He laughed as he pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Lily had never offered pity before. Why should she start now? No, the curve of her lips and excitement in her blue eyes suggested she’d take what she wanted from him. She wouldn’t hold back.
She never holds back. That’s me. I’m the one fighting this pull with everything I have in me.
He’d walked away from her over and over. He’d told himself it was the right thing to do. Be brave. Fight for freedom. Make your mark on this world while you still can. He’d buffered his heartbreak with good and noble intentions. Only to be sidelined by bullets. It was as if the enemy had won, taking him out before he’d done enough. And now he didn’t have a clue how to find his way forward.
Lily.
No, he was pretty damn certain he wouldn’t find his future staring at Lily’s panties. Plus, she was living day to day right now. She didn’t need his bullshit heaped on top of her struggles.
He shouldn’t look. Hell, he should stand up and walk out of here now. He’d done what he came to do—check on her. He’d come home to keep her safe. And he had to draw the line there. After all she’d been through he couldn’t drag her back into heartbreak.
He was leaving. That was a fact. He refused to stay in Forever and lick his wounds.
“My turn now,” she said.
Her red nails toyed with the hem of her skirt. One manicured hand held the fabric down while the other drew a small section of her dress up to her thighs. She reached the thin band of burgundy circling her hips.
“See,” she said, holding her fingers over the splash of color against her pale skin. “They match.”
Dominic stared at the elastic band as if he’d been ordered to memorize the details. But this wasn’t a reconnaissance mission. He wouldn’t be returning to see how her underwear looked from the back, her skirt pulled up to her hips . . .
I bet it’s a thong.
Desire raged like a spreading flame. But on its heels? A big green monster. He thought of the flowers in the disposal and the selfish bastard who’d left them behind.
“I don’t think Ted deserves panties like those,” he growled.
“And you do?” she asked coyly.
“Probably not.”
“If I let go with my right hand, my dress will probably rise up higher. Maybe to my waist.”
“It might.” He lifted his gaze to her face. Her blue eyes shone with daring, but also a hint of desperation. Was that why she was sitting there, teasing him? Was she trying to stave off emotions she’d rather not feel? Trying to keep him here just so she wouldn’t be alone?
“Don’t do it,” he added. “Not now. Not tonight.”
The red-tipped fingers holding her dress up at her hip let go and the fabric slipped back into place. He watched it trail over her thighs, leaving him so damn jealous of her fucking clothes. He wanted to touch her. But that was nothing new. He’d spent years waking up in foreign countries and dreaming about her soft skin against his.
He reached for his coffee and tried to find the right words.
I want to fuck you on your coffee table.
While that had a ring of truth to it, he couldn’t put that out there. Not when he knew she needed a helluva lot more than a quickie in her living room. Sure, they could both lose themselves in the pleasure for a while. He’d dreamed about doing just that, finding some random chick for a night, to ease the pain as he came to terms with his future and his fears.
But he refused to be Lily’s escape. Not when he could be her way through this mess.
“Tell me how you feel, Lily.”
“Like someone just stole away my chance for an orgasm tonight,” she said.
“Look at me.” He waited for her eyes to meet his. Her lips parted as she obeyed. And he studied her expression. But dammit, he couldn’t pinpoint what drove her to offer a view of her underwear, to let him in, to wake up and try to get through the day. He could guess, but . . .
Once upon a time, before the sharp edge of reality stripped away the fairy tale, he’d been able to read her. He’d soothed her sadness. He’d held her while she wept after her mother’s diagnosis. But now?
“Talk to me,” he said. “You used to tell me everything. About your mom. Your dad . . .”
Her eyes narrowed. “I did. You’re the only one who knew what it cost me to watch my mother suffer and know there was nothing I could do to save her. You know how hard it was to see my dad slip deeper and deeper into addiction. I turned to you when I realized I couldn’t save him. I shared everything I was feeling. And then you walked away, taking pieces of me with you.”