Just like he said, no one else felt what I did when the thoughtful art student with stunning green eyes wrapped his sweater around me. I’m the one that remembers feeling secure and safe under the fabric of his cardigan, because he said he’d take care of me.
And it’s me who knows I can’t let this man fall out of my life again. This Grant is who I trust, and his actions paint me a picture of his feelings that words could never say.
“Lily.” The name falls off his tongue smoothly, sweeter than any other name I’ve been called before.
Liliana to everyone, Lil to my friends, sweetie to my parents. But in my entire life Grant has been the only person to ever call me Lily. That nickname is the first part of me that belonged to him and no one else.
“My Lily.”
Want fills every part of me, hanging on the way he groans out those two words.
One hand holding the back of my head and the other gripping my waist, Grant’s mouth presses hungrily onto mine, hot and passion driven as he pushes me backwards. My knees hit the edge of the couch and we fall together, his arms caging my body against the cushions beneath us.
sixteen
GRANT
I dreamtof the day I would be able to hold Liliana. As more than friends, and in a way I hope no one else will be able to. Because now that we’ve established this bond between us, I don’t intend on ever letting her go.
I dreamt of this, too. My knee pressed hard between her legs and under one of her cute, uncorrupted skirts. Liliana—my Lily now, like she should be—sinking deeper into the expensive couch cushions while my hand slips under the front of her blouse.
I dreamt of touching Lily like this in every hour of sleep since Thursday. In my dreams she arches into me like she does now, and her skin is even smoother in real life than in my fantasies.
Dream Lily especially doesn’t come close to comparing when the beautiful woman below me whimpers in my ear, breathy and needy.
I pause my kisses up and down the expanse of her throat.
“Lily.” She moans and I burn this moment into my memories. “Lily.” I repeat myself when she doesn’t respond.Lifting off her, I get my first look at what it’s like to have Liliana under me.
Chocolate waves of hair spread perfectly across stark white linen, cheeks flushed red and eyes glossy as she mindlessly moves her hips onto my knee. This vision of her is more than enough. This could easily satisfy me for the rest of my life. My cock is already painfully straining against the fabric of my boxers, and every new sound or touch makes it harder to keep control.
She moans again. My nails dig into my palm to stop myself from coming so soon.
“Baby.” I caress the side of her face, needing to hold on to some sense of reality. At least for a bit.
“Huh?” Her voice is so fucking cute, so gone.
“Are you listening?”
“Barely.”
My laughter snaps her out of her daze. She giggles and reaches up to trace the line of my jaw. It’s sensual and intimate.
“Okay, I’m listening. What is it,baby?”
Lily smirks when she throws the pet name back at me. I adore every side she gives me the privilege of seeing, but flirty Liliana is the one that makes me feel hot all over, tempts me to lick down to her navel and work my mouth into the spot it really belongs.
I almost do, with her hips languidly moving over my leg, but my conscious keeps me in check.
“You know you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, right?”
Her hips still. Hazel eyes bore into mine. She’s being attentive in the way it matters.
“Of course. You don’t have to, either.”
Her skin is that distinct sun-kissed tan, like it was the first day I saw her. One that’s uniquely hers, shining even on Boston’s coldest days.
She’s an art piece like this. Every intricate stroke of her figure planned and executed masterfully. More beautiful than anything I’ve seen, or created, or imagined in my entire life.
