by Alice Ward
“You’re not supposed to ask a lady her age.”
He inclined his head. “I apologize.”
“But since you already asked, it’s twenty-seven.”
“Twenty-seven.” He ran the words over his tongue like he was testing them out.
“So not that young.”
“To have the confidence and assurance you have, yes, it’s young.”
I tapped my finger against the table. “You’re not such an old man yourself. I’m going to be polite and not ask, but surely you can’t be much over thirty, if you’re even there at all.”
“I have good skin.”
I laughed out loud, and he smiled. In that instant, the evening felt not only like a real date but an extremely nice one. The kind I hadn’t gone on in years.
“Is that good skin from staying in the office all day?” I asked. “Or is it hereditary?”
Niall shifted his weight and looked down, everything about his change in posture suggesting something had just gone wrong.
“It’s the fresh Chicago air,” he answered, looking up with a fake grin plastered on his face.
“Ah.”
He quickly took another sip of wine. Within a few seconds, the space between us had become awkward again.
“Where are you from?” I asked.
The corners of his mouth bent down a bit. “All around.”
“Your family moved a lot? Were your parents in the military?”
“No,” he practically barked, then shuffled his weight some more. “Where are you from?”
“Michigan.”
“So you grew up in one place?” he asked, leaning back in his seat.
I got the feeling he only kept the questions going so I wouldn’t get the chance to ask him more about himself.
“For the most part. My sister and I got taken away from our parents for the last few years we were minors. We went to live with our aunt in Detroit.”
Niall finally looked right at me. Our eyes hooked.
“My parents weren’t the best,” I continued. “It was a fairly abusive childhood. Not as bad as some people’s, but Leigh and I at least escaped with our lives. Not every kid does.”
Niall didn’t even breathe. I could tell because his chest was frozen, not moving up or down.
Finally, he swallowed. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you.” I took my first sip of wine and allowed myself a moment to enjoy the fruitiness of it. “My father was an alcoholic. He took things out on our mother, and she took things out on us. They both had abusive parents. It was the whole typical abusive cycle thing.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Where are your parents?”
Niall’s mouth twitched. “They’re near here.”
He was definitely uncomfortable. I studied his eyes for a second, the theory I’d already begun to suspect growing larger and stronger.
“They weren’t very nice people either, were they?” I asked.
“They were great,” he quickly said, then abruptly stood up. “I’m sorry, but I just remembered I need to make a phone call. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”
I blinked, a bit in shock from the quick way he’d jumped up. “Oh. All right. Yes, of course.”
He hurried across the dining room and into a wide hallway.
I laced my fingers together and stared at my wine glass. Asking that last question about his parents hadn’t been very tactful. I shouldn’t have done it.
I was pretty sure I was right, though, about what I saw in his eyes. Niall had been abused, just like Leigh and me.
But, unlike me, it didn’t seem he’d yet come to terms with his past.
Granted, I’d had years of therapy. I still went every two weeks, though the topics I talked about now spanned all aspects of my life. The sessions weren’t just about me crying and talking about how much I wanted to hurt my parents.
My mother was gone, dead as of seven years ago. And my father? Who the hell knew? The last peep Leigh and I got from him came in the form of a postcard from Las Vegas approximately six months before the lung cancer got Mom. I didn’t even know if he knew his ex-wife was dead.
I didn’t make it a habit to talk about my family, especially not with people I barely knew. Especially not with a man I probably wouldn’t see again after the night was over.
But something in Niall’s eyes touched me. I saw pain there. Real hurt. I knew what it was like to grow up feeling like you were worthless and unlovable. I knew what it was like to flinch every time your parents walked into the room, to never be able to relax, to always be left wondering just what you’d done wrong and how you could fix things.
I wanted to reach out to him and tell him it was going to be all right. That he was worthy. That the past didn’t define him. That he was the victim of random choice. It wasn’t his fault that he’d been born into a family that didn’t appreciate him.
Realizing this, I shook my head. What was wrong with me? This was Niall Lambert. He chewed women up and spit them out. He probably sat on billions. The last thing the guy needed was my sympathy.
And, still, when he walked back across the dining room to rejoin me, sympathy was the only thing on my mind.
I couldn’t directly broach the topic though. It wasn’t my place.
The food arrived, and we talked about small things. He shared a fair amount about his corporation, which I actually found somewhat interesting, and I talked about how I got started hosting baby and wedding showers in college.
Before I knew it, the plates had been cleared and the wine bottle emptied.
Niall nodded at my dry glass. “Another bottle?”
“Only if I don’t want to wake up in the morning.” I opened my purse and peeked at my phone. Ten thirty. Late for me. “I should be getting home soon,” I explained.
A quick flash of disappointment crossed his face. “No dessert?”
I swallowed hard. He’d meant that to sound like a euphemism, for sure, and damn it if his words didn’t do something to me.
Niall rested his forearms on the table and leaned into them. “I wish you’d let me drive you. Are you sure you’re all right to get home?”
I looked at my empty wine glass. I’d already been worried about the amount of alcohol I’d consumed. My head buzzed, and my body felt weightless.
Not only did I never drive drunk, I never drove tipsy. It was one of my biggest rules, and I never broke it.
Thanks to Niall’s distracting me, I’d had more to drink than I probably should have.
“I’ll call a taxi to take me home.”
Niall shook his head. “I’ll take you.”
“My car,” I protested, suddenly realizing there was that issue.
“Where did you park?”
“Just down the street on this block.”
“It’ll be fine there overnight. If you’re concerned, I can call someone to—”
“No,” I quickly said, not wanting Niall to grant me any favors. “Thank you. You’re right, I’m sure it’ll be just fine there.”
The waitress took the bill and the last remnants of the dinner. When I stood, my stomach flipped around, but my head stayed straight on. The room certainly wasn’t spinning, but I did feel woozy.
Niall took my elbow and guided me across the dining room. Several female heads turned and looked in his direction. I acted like I didn’t notice the women checking my date out, but I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be out with Niall on a regular basis.
Impossible. That’s what it would be like. I wouldn’t be surprised to discover Niall had never had a real girlfriend before.
He made a call as we crossed the foyer, and when we got out to the curb, the limo from the other night waited there for us.
Sparks jumped in my fingertips. The limo… a place of forbidden fantasies.
The driver opened the back door for us, and we settled onto a smooth leather seat, this time with Niall right next to me, his leg pressed agai
nst mine. The door closed smartly behind us, and we were alone, the partition closed.
I shifted my weight a bit, turning slightly to face Niall. He stared at me, his pupils growing and shrinking. My heart rate picked up, and my hands twitched.
Getting deeply tied to a man such as Niall would be trouble. But what did one night matter? And it wasn’t as if he would call me ever again. I was already there, my knee hitting into his, his hand reaching up to brush a piece of hair away from my jaw…
His lips pressed against mine, and though we were in the same place we’d been the first time we kissed, the experience was nothing like deja vu. Instead of a hungry meeting of our mouths, this new kiss was slow and almost careful.
It was the kind of kiss I never would have expected from him. It sucked my breath away, made me gasp for air against his mouth. His hand drifted down and pressed against the back of my neck. I grasped the edge of the seat, doing everything I could to anchor myself. With each stroke of Niall’s tongue across my own, my head got woozier and woozier. It seemed that any second I would float away.
My hands burned to touch something other than cold leather. I needed the fabric of a man’s suit. I needed warm skin. I ran my palms over Niall’s chest, relishing the hard lines of muscles beneath his clothing.
His free hand latched onto my hip and squeezed lightly. Hot yearning hit between my legs. It was now or never.
Just like the other night, I climbed right on top of him. Except this time, it was with even more intention. I knew what I was there for. And I knew he wanted the same thing.
As we continued to kiss, I worked my hands underneath his suit jacket and pressed them into his back. His own fingers pushed the fabric of my dress up and up, till my legs were bare and exposed.
Hot kisses hit my jaw, my neck. I closed my eyes and sucked the sensation of each touch in. A finger brushed against the fabric of my panties. I tensed in anticipation. Niall’s thumb teased my aching clit, and a sound I’d never made before left my lips.
I smashed my mouth into his again, eager to have the taste of him back on my tongue. We kissed deep as he stroked and teased me. The pleasure grew and grew, taking me closer and closer to the precipice of ecstasy.
I fumbled with his belt buckle. No more waiting. The limo would arrive at my street in a matter of minutes. By the time we got there, I might be rethinking things, and my body couldn’t handle that.
His cock came out and into my hands, growing harder and longer underneath my touch. Its warmth pulsed against my palms, the very feel of it making me afraid I might suddenly explode.
Niall fumbled in his pocket and the crinkling of a wrapper filled the air. I broke the kiss for a moment to look down at his lap and enjoy the sight of what I held there.
He rolled the condom on, then grabbed my head with one hand and brought my face to his. His other hand pushed my underwear to the side. I lifted myself up and slid slowly down onto his length.
My body stretched around his girth, welcoming each and every inch. I gasped against his lips, and he let out his own guttural groan. Our tongues pulsed together, lapping and caressing, relishing and savoring.
I drove down onto him, and he planted his hands against my ass and pushed me harder. The whole limo seemed to be spinning. One hand on Niall’s shoulder and one on the back of his seat, I curled my fingers and held on tight.
Sharp noises escaped my throat, and I did my best to try and keep them in check. I couldn’t help it though. His mouth, his hands, his hard, pulsing length… there wasn’t an inch of Niall that didn’t bring me ecstasy.
I ground against him harder, putting every ounce of strength into driving onto him. He gently bit down on my bottom lip, and it did something to me. My pleasure doubled and exploded through me. I shook against him, my muffled cries sinking into his mouth.
Niall kept pushing me down onto him, encouraging me on. He tensed and groaned, then stilled underneath me.
I broke the kiss and collapsed against him, my exhales heating up the air around us.
For a long minute, only our heavy breathing filled the silence. My legs shook, and my hands trembled. I touched my lips and felt the lipstick smeared there.
Gingerly, I climbed off Niall and pulled my dress down. Instead of the cocky smirk I expected to find on his face, there was a passive expression instead. He looked at me, seemingly waiting for me to say something.
I only opened my clutch and pulled my compact and lipstick out. He watched me the whole time I fixed my lips. When I shut the little mirror, he spoke.
“Come back to my place.”
The words stopped me. They weren’t what I expected.
But God, I liked hearing them.
I couldn’t take him up on his offer, for a variety of reasons. Number one being this whole thing was already getting too intense for me. If I spent any more time with this man, I might actually fall for him. Sooner or later, probably sooner, he would leave me in his dust.
It would be better if I stepped away then and there.
As I considered how best to say this, the limo stopped. We were right out front of my apartment. I smoothed my dress down and looked him in the eyes.
“I had a nice time,” I told him. “But I’ll pass on coming over tonight.”
I paused. He eyed me, a bit of disapproval snaking across his features. Seeing his expression did so much to me. It made me a little sad. I’d just had sex with the guy after all. I couldn’t just walk away from that completely emotionless. Of course I wanted to see him again.
Sadistically, the look also left me feeling a bit pleased. If he was disappointed in me fucking and running, well, at least he now knew what it felt like. How many women had he gotten down and dirty with and then never called again? Surely a little taste of his own medicine might do him some good.
Niall cleared his throat and straightened his suit jacket. “How about next weekend then?”
I smiled sweetly. “How about I just call you?” Instead of waiting for him to answer, I climbed past him and opened the door.
Not even turning around to wave goodbye, I climbed the stoop of my apartment building and let myself into the main hallway. When I turned around, the limo was gliding away.
With Niall no longer watching, I let my back slump against the wall. The last few hours came back at me in a rush.
What had I been thinking?
Having sex with the guy was one thing. I got that. I was a woman with needs.
But everything else… the sympathy I felt for him when I realized he hid an abusive childhood… the giddy way my stomach had flipped nearly a dozen times… my sick need to play with him after sex and leave him wanting more…
I didn’t know just how I felt about Niall, but I knew I was in way over my head.
I wouldn’t call him again. I couldn’t call him again. The guy had too many issues for any one woman to deal with. Perhaps it was best if he stayed a playboy bachelor for the rest of his life after all.
I climbed the stairs to my apartment and let myself in. The living room light was still on, and Rosalyn sat on the floor at the coffee table, a textbook and papers spread out before her.
“I didn’t know they still used real books in college,” I commented by way of greeting.
She smiled up at me. “How was your night?”
“Good,” I automatically answered, pulling my heels off and dropping them on the floor. I retrieved some money from my clutch to pay her for the night and then gave her an extra twenty so she could take a cab home.
After she packed up her schoolwork and left, I padded down the hallway to the second bedroom. The door was cracked, soft light from the nightlight in the corner peeking through the little space.
I slowly pushed the door open a little more and poked my head in. A pile of clothes sat on the floor near the end of the bed, the same pile I’d told Jonah to clean up before I left the apartment that evening. At the top of the bed, his mass of unruly dark hair rested against the pillow.
; Stepping slowly backwards, I pulled myself away from my seven-year-old nephew’s bedroom and backtracked to my own room.
Closing the door securely behind me, I stripped and threw my clothes into the hamper. My panties leered at me, a twisted reminder of what had just occurred.
Sighing, I grabbed my bathrobe and hit the bathroom. Flashes of the whole night still came at me, obscuring my vision so I could barely see well enough to turn on the shower. Niall’s hands. Niall’s lips. Niall’s chest heaving underneath my palms.
His face when I left that limo.
That last memory was the one I really couldn’t shake.
Despite trying to rationalize my actions, I still felt guilty. I’d probably hurt the man. It didn’t matter that he’d likely done the same to other people. It wasn’t my job to keep the karma cycle going.
If I had any role in the matter, really, it involved helping to stop the bad patterns.
Because there was the other part too. Niall’s past. He’d been hurt, damaged, just like me.
Was it any surprise he’d grown up to be a cliché? A man who used women in an attempt to avoid ever getting close?
Had he ever even tried getting help?
It didn’t matter. He wasn’t my problem. It wasn’t my place to tell him to go to a therapist, to re-evaluate the way he lived his life.
No, nothing to do with Niall Lambert was my responsibility.
But I still couldn’t stop the strange itching feeling that told me it really was.
CHAPTER FIVE
Niall
Another week passed. Another excruciating week during which I couldn’t get that damn woman off my mind. I thought about her in board meetings, during conference calls, on the drive to work and the drive back home. I even woke up in the middle of the night from sex dreams about her, to think about her.
And it wasn’t just her body on my mind, though that was certainly a big part of it. It was her feisty attitude, her self-assured air.
And, even though I hated it, it was the way she left me wanting more.
When Friday came without any calls or texts from Candace, I bit the bullet and dialed her number during lunch. It went straight to voicemail, so I left a message asking her out to dinner that night.