"How so?" I asked.
He gave me that special smile, the one that melted my heart and turned my insides to jelly. "Because I've been keeping you all to myself."
I felt myself grow very still. Was he talking multiple partners? Filling his house with groupies and hangers-on? Passing me on to his brother? I wasn't sure what, exactly, he was talking about, but whatever it was, I didn't think I was interested.
I kept my tone studiously neutral. "What do you mean?"
He studied my face. "Well, obviously, not what you think."
"What do you mean?"
"You were thinking," he said, shifting his body closer to mine, "that I'd ever consider sharing you." I felt his hand on my thigh and his hip pressed against mine. He leaned close to whisper in my ear. "Let's get one thing straight. I'm never, ever sharing you."
I felt myself smile. "Oh yeah?"
"Oh yeah. You're all mine, and I intend to keep it that way."
The way he said it sent a bolt of heat straight into my core. I didn't want to share him either. I wanted things to stay exactly as they were.
I wanted to sleep in his arms and wake up sated. I wanted to hear him laugh and watch him sweat, both in the workout room and when we were naked, which was, to be honest, embarrassingly often. I wanted to watch bad movies and enjoy all those great make-out sessions in our own private world. I wanted a string of tomorrows just like today.
Maybe I was being foolish, but at heart, I wasn't a fool. Obviously, things couldn't stay exactly like this. Eventually, the real world would interfere, or as Lawton's dick of a brother had so nicely implied, Lawton would lose interest in whatever it was that we had.
If I were smart, I'd lose interest first. But somehow, I was never able to do it. Instead, the days had passed one after another with virtually no friction, well, unless you counted the physical kind, and that was definitely no drawback.
Soaking in the hot tub, his hand drifting up and down my thigh reminded me of how intoxicating his particular brand of friction could be.
"So what do you think?" he said.
"Hmmmm?"
He laughed. "Am I wrong to keep you all to myself?"
"Hey," I said, "I thought you didn't want to share."
"No sharing," he said, "but you know what I just realized?"
"What?"
"I've never even taken you out, like on a real date. Aren't you pissed? You should be."
I gave it some thought. He'd bought us dinner countless times from upscale places that I didn't even know delivered. He'd taken me to the movies right in his own house. He'd powered up his sound system and slow danced with me until I'd melted straight into him.
It was like heaven on Earth, and we were the only two people in it. Well, us and Chucky. I was juggling a lot, it was true, between the waitressing, time with Lawton, and making sure to spend enough time at the Parkers' to fulfill my obligations.
I shook my head. "That other stuff isn't really important to me."
"But what about dinner, clubbing, all that, don't you want it?"
"Truthfully?" I said. "I've kind of liked things the way they are."
Aside from the luxury of having Lawton all to myself, hanging out at his house was beyond amazing. He had a long list of luxuries, and a regular cleaning service that kept us from doing hardly any housework at all. His brother was blissfully absent, and I saw no sign of Brittney, Amber, or any of the other hangers-on that I'd been expecting to see any minute.
He leaned his head close to mine, and I felt his lips brush against my damp hair. "Yeah," he said. "I've liked it this way too. But I don't feel like I'm being fair to you."
"Why not?" I asked.
"Because you deserve all that. To go places, to be seen, all that stuff. I've carted around other girls –" He shrugged. "It's just that you deserve all that and more."
I tried not to think about other girls. So instead, I focused on the other stuff.
"Are you kidding?" I lifted a hand to encompass his back patio, which was probably nicer than most world-class resorts. "This is like a permanent vacation." As soon as that word – permanent – came out of my mouth, I felt a tinge of embarrassment creep across me.
I forced out a laugh. "Not to say I plan on hanging out here forever. I mean, I know you've got other things going on." I stood. "You know, thinking about it, I really need to get going. I've got to work in just a couple hours."
He remained seated, looking up at me with amused eyes. "That's it," he announced. "Friday night it is."
"What about Friday night?"
"I'm taking you out." He reached up to pull me back down, wrapping his arms around me as he spoke softly into my ear. "You're getting stir-crazy. I can tell."
"I am not," I said.
"Uh-huh," he said. "You still have this Friday off?"
I nodded. Usually, I got one Friday night off a month, and that was it.
"Good," he said. "Seven o'clock. I'm gonna pick you up, just like a real date."
I grinned at him. "Yeah?" Even though it wasn't what I'd been craving, the idea was oddly appealing. For some reason, I never imagined him on a traditional date. This would definitely be interesting. "Do you know," I said, almost as an afterthought, "Saturday's my birthday?"
"It is?" he said. "No kidding?"
"No kidding."
"Then let's make it Saturday instead. We'll celebrate in style."
I sighed. "I wish I could. But I'm scheduled to work."
"So, blow it off," he said.
I gave him a sideways glance. "Easy for you to say."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"As far as I can tell, you don't do any work at all."
At this, he actually laughed in my face. "That's what you think?"
"Isn't it the truth?"
"No," he said. "I probably work about sixty, maybe eighty hours a week."
I rolled my eyes. "You do not."
He shrugged.
"You don't, do you?" I persisted.
He shrugged again.
"Oh c'mon," I said. "Tell me."
"Alright," he said. "Yeah, it's the truth. But it's not like I put on a suit and tie and go into the office or anything."
"Do you even have an office?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said. "In downtown Detroit."
"Yikes."
"In the nice part," he clarified.
"There's a nice part?" I'd been downtown enough to know that there were some nice parts. It's just that usually, you had to go through some distinctly un-nice parts to get there. "But seriously," I continued, "We've spent practically every day together. When would you have time to work?"
"As soon as you leave."
"You can't be serious."
"Totally serious," he said. "I used to work days. Now, I work nights, mostly from home. No big deal."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, no big deal. What exactly do you do, anyway?"
"You're changing the subject," he said.
"There was a subject?"
He nodded. "You, me, Friday night. We'll celebrate your birthday early."
I gave him a wicked grin. "Should I wear my birthday suit?"
"Definitely," he said. "Just not in public. Unless you're ready to witness a good old-fashioned ass-kicking."
"Hey!" I said.
"Oh, it's not your ass I'm talking about." He pressed his lips to my neck. "It's the guys who'd be ogling it."
"Hmmm," I said. "Maybe I'll wear sweatpants."
"Baby," he said, "whatever you've got on, you'll look great to me."
I laughed. "I wasn't really gonna wear sweatpants."
"Good," he said, "because I wasn't really gonna pick you up at eight."
I pulled back to squint at him. "Huh?"
"I don’t think I can wait that long. Let's make it six."
Chapter 43
"What do you mean you can't go out?" Erika said. It was Wednesday afternoon, and she'd just called to make plans for the weekend. "It's your birthday," she c
ontinued, "And it's a Saturday. You're turning twenty-three, not a hundred."
"Are you sure?" I asked. "Because I'm pretty sure I spotted a gray hair last week."
"Oh shut up," she said. "If you don't end up totally shitfaced by midnight, they'll revoke my best friend card. C'mon!"
I listened with a smile, touched that Erika would make a special trip home just to celebrate my birthday. "I wish I could," I told her, "But I've got to work that night."
"On your birthday? Seriously? Get someone to switch with you."
"I can't," I said. "The flu is going around the diner, and half the girls are out of commission. I'll probably end up working a double shift as it is."
"Maybe you should get sick too," she said, "if you know what I mean."
She sounded just like Lawton. And just like with Lawton, the offer was tempting, but I just couldn’t. It would only strain my co-workers further. And I knew all too well how stressful that would be. Business didn't stop just because half the staff was home in bed. And besides, my time at the diner was quickly running out.
"I wish I could," I said, feeling a different kind of guilt. "I'm really sorry."
"Then how about Friday?" she said.
"Sorry," I said, "I can't."
"You working Friday too?"
"Not exactly," I said.
"Holy crap," she said. "You've got a date."
"Gee, you don't have to sound so surprised about it."
"Am I surprised that someone asked you out? No. But am I surprised you actually said yes? Yeah. Definitely."
I had to laugh. "I'm not that picky."
"Yes you are," she said, "and too damn busy for your own good. So, who's the guy?"
"Well," I said, "remember—"
"Wait," she said. "Don't tell me. Save it for Saturday. I want to see your face when you give me all the juicy details."
"But I'm not seeing you Saturday," I said.
She laughed. "Oh, yes you are. You're not getting off that easy. How about I'll bring the party to you? What time do you leave for work?"
I was working the graveyard shift. "A little after ten," I told her, "but – "
"Perfect," she said. "I'll swing by your house-sitting gig at seven."
"But I'm not supposed to – "
"Yeah, no parties where you're staying, I know. Don't worry," she said. "It'll just be me. Something nice and simple. A girls' night. Sound okay?"
I felt myself smile. "It sounds more than okay. It sounds awesome. Want me to make dinner?"
"Screw that," Erika said. "You're the birthday girl, remember? I'm bringing the thing that's definitely not a party to you."
Chapter 44
When Lawton picked me up on Friday night, I felt strangely self-conscious. I'd dug out my favorite cocktail dress, a short, black strapless number that I'd gotten for a steal at a consignment shop. The dress was obviously expensive, or at least it had been for its original owner, whoever that girl might've been.
The shoes were a different story. They matched the dress only in the sense they were black with a daring level of heel, but they were anything but expensive. I didn't care. And if the look on Lawton's face was any indicator, shoes were the last thing on his mind when I opened the Parkers' front door.
"Wow," he said, a slow grin spreading across his face. "You look –" He sucked in a breath as his gaze ran the length of me. "Wow," he said again. "You look amazing."
"Thanks," I said, my voice a little breathy, both from the look in his eyes and what he was wearing. Until now, I'd only seen him in casual clothes, or – I smiled to think of it – nothing at all.
Sure, I'd seen pictures of him on the Internet, dressed up for a night of clubbing or whatever – but in person, the vision before me was another animal entirely.
He wore black tailored slacks and a V-neck silvery shirt, set off by a sleek black blazer and designer shoes. His hair was as unruly as ever, but it only made his clothes look that much more sexy, like he was dressed for success, but ready for sin.
"You look pretty amazing yourself," I said, giving him a good, long look. "So what's the plan?"
"The plan," he said, pulling me close to whisper in my ear, "is to make it a night to remember."
The whisper turned into a kiss, which for me, turned into thoughts of rushing back to his place for an appetizer of the physical variety. "Are you sure you wanna go out?" I teased, running a hand slowly over his jawline.
I was only half-kidding. At his place, I knew what I'd find. Pure bliss. I wouldn't have to worry about my too-cheap shoes or too-small cubic zirconia earrings. I wouldn’t have to worry that I was too quiet or too loud.
And honestly, I was just the teeniest bit nervous. In some ways, this felt like a first date, filled with all the unknowns, good and bad.
For a couple of weeks now, I'd been dating the boy next door – this incredibly sweet guy who had walked my dog and carried me shirtless across his lawn. He plied me with popcorn and woke me with kisses. We shared a fence, a love of comedies, and a loathing of seafood.
His public persona was very different. That guy wasn't mine. The boy next door was, or at least it felt that way.
After tonight, would I see him the same way? More to the point, how would he see me? I wasn't a Brittney. I wouldn’t dance on the table or squeal like a groupie. No, if I squealed near Lawton, it was for reasons entirely unrelated to his celebrity status.
On the Parkers' front steps, my question hung in the air. Maybe Lawton was having second thoughts about going out, too.
As I stroked his jaw, he closed his eyes, and his lips parted ever so slightly. And then, as if the action took far more effort than it should have, he pulled away. "Hell yeah, I want to go out." He reached up to his face, placing his hand over mine. "It's your birthday, remember?"
"Not until tomorrow," I reminded him. "
"Then we'll celebrate at midnight," he said.
Out in the driveway, a car was waiting for us, but it wasn't his usual hot-rod. It was a sleek, black limo sport utility vehicle with tinted windows and a smartly dressed driver, who opened a rear door and closed it behind us after we settled ourselves inside.
Alone with Lawton, I edged close to him and leaned over to whisper in his ear. "Can I confess something?"
"Anything."
"This reminds me of prom."
He laughed. "Yeah?"
"A little," I said. "Except we didn't have a limo." I eyed the setup in front of us. "Or a fully stocked bar." I grinned over at him. "Hey, is that champagne?"
"Oh yeah. It's a celebration." He put an arm around me, pulling me close. "My girl's birthday.
The way he said "my girl" sent a happy tingle from my ears straight down to my toes, stopping at a couple of key places along the way. "Your girl, huh?"
"Yeah." His gaze met mine, and I found myself lost in the moment, oblivious to everything but him, and the restrained intensity of his words as he added, "If I have anything to say about it."
Slowly, I nodded, forgetting that he hadn't exactly phrased it as a question. I felt my tongue dart out between my lips for the briefest instant before I caught myself. If my thoughts kept going on their current trajectory, we'd never make it out of the limo.
He leaned forward to pour us each a glass. "To you," he said, before giving my champagne glass a little clink with his own and downing the whole glass in one, long drink.
"Wow," I said. I wasn't much of a drinker, but the champagne was too fabulous to resist. It took me a little longer, but I drank until my own glass was empty and then grinned up at him. "So why the limo?" I asked.
He met my smile. "Aside from the fact it's a celebration?"
I nodded.
"How about this?" he said, leaning back against the leather seat. "I'm gonna skip answering just yet. At the end of the night, maybe you can tell me."
I narrowed my gaze in mock suspicion. "So there's gonna be a quiz? No one said anything about a quiz."
He leaned his head close to mine un
til our foreheads were touching. "Lemme give you one reason right now." His arms closed tight around me, and a moment later, our lips met softly at first and then not so softly.
I ran a hand behind his neck, feeling the thick strands of his hair sift over my fingertips as I savored the feel of his lips on mine.
When he pulled away, I was breathless and hungry for more.
"See?" he said.
"What?"
"Why it's better if I'm not driving."
"Actually," I said, "I didn't quite get that. Would you mind repeating it?"
So he did. Again and again.
What can I say? I'm a slow learner.
Chapter 45
Between long, lingering kisses and sips of champagne, I watched the landscape change around us from suburbia to highway and finally to an urban cityscape.
Soon, we were in the heart of downtown Detroit, passing ornate brick and stone architecture from the city's glory days. It was interspersed with signs of urban decay – a gas station with long-outdated prices, a boarded-up building that covered an entire city block, a burned-out car that hadn't been hauled away.
"It's not as bad as I expected," I said as we passed a bustling nightclub with a long line of stylishly dressed patrons waiting outside the main entrance.
"You don’t ever come down here?" he asked.
"Not usually," I said. "At least, not so much anymore." I grew up in Hamtramck, a city almost completely surrounded by Detroit. In high school, I'd gone downtown every once in a while to hit Greektown or a museum, but mostly I stuck to the suburbs.
"Well, it's like anyplace else," Lawton said. "You got your nice parts and your not-so-nice parts."
I gave him a sideways glance. "Which part are you from?"
He was quiet for a moment as his gaze drifted past the tinted window, where an empty lot was littered with broken beer bottles. It was sandwiched between two massive office buildings, unlit and apparently unoccupied. "It wasn't the nice part," he said.
From the tone of his voice, it was pretty obvious that particular topic was closed, at least for tonight. It was probably for the best. Half-drunk with champagne and kisses, I'd never do any serious conversation justice.
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