Cotton Candy

by Gaja J. Kos

  He’d caught her stealing glimpses at the silver embedded in his beard, after all. And she certainly didn’t look like she was having second thoughts about his age.

  But did he?

  Laughing, he shook his head and stepped into the shower.

  His younger self would pale in comparison to all he’d do to Lily if things went well this afternoon. His ID might have other ideas, but his cock sure felt at its prime.

  After he cleaned himself up and trimmed his beard—leaving it just long enough for a little of that silver to still show—William made his way into the kitchen where he did yet another thing that hardly happened in his life. He made himself breakfast.

  Morning wood. Masturbation.

  Now this…

  And not just black coffee and a smoke, either. But an actual breakfast consisting of honey-coated waffles and freshly squeezed juice.

  All of it before seven thirty a.m.

  It was like that old, good part of himself he’d lost somewhere along the road had returned. And it was all thanks to Lily.

  He powered on his tablet, dug into his food, and checked for any early reports on yesterday’s opening.

  If this was what a mid-life crisis looked like, well, William had to admit he actually saw the appeal.

  7

  Well and Utterly Fucked

  Staying focused on her lectures seemed an impossible task with William slipping into her mind at irregular, but very intense intervals. At least the deliciously inappropriate daydreams made Rowell’s self-praise manageable—although Lily had received a few snide comments from the woman in question due to her absence the previous night.

  Attendance wasn’t mandatory, but nothing slipped past the hawk’s keen eyes. Every performer liked a full room, she supposed. However bored. The lecture had been a complete and utter waste of time as Lily had learned from one of her acquaintances—but, of course, that didn’t stop Rowell.

  Nothing new there.

  After that attempted lobotomy was over, Lily spent her lunch at a small restaurant, clicking away on her laptop and fighting to put the Biennials article into something that at least resembled coherent sentences. Far too often, she found herself going on and on about William’s work—right up to the point where even she became annoyed with the endless praise. It was almost as if she were doing a piece on the bloody amazingness that was Mr. William Charleston. But regardless of how hard she tried, crossing things out and toning others down, Lily couldn’t ignore the truth.

  Of all the photographs she’d seen, William’s not only stood out, but stayed with her.

  “Kiss-ass,” she muttered to herself as she delved yet into another paragraph of how ingeniously he managed to capture Sleepy Hollow’s mystical atmosphere without venturing into anything too dramatic or far-fetched.

  By the time she was done—and despite her best efforts to the contrary—the article still looked like a bloody hymn dedicated to one William Charleston.

  Fucking hell, how could she possibly give this to her editor after what happened last night?

  She glared at her screen, but instead of deleting the whole thing, she wrapped her fingers around her coffee cup. She was being silly. No one knew about her and the gorgeous almost silver fox, so they couldn’t possibly assume she was being biased.

  Which she wasn’t.

  She meant every word she’d written. It didn’t matter how bored or annoyed the other photographers had made her at the press conference—or how indecently hot William had made her. She had never let her personal feelings get in the way of looking at art with an objective eye, and she wasn’t going to start now.

  Her fawning over the darkly brooding photographs wasn’t a consequence of their kiss, even if the lie had, in a way, been easier to accept than the reality of the situation.

  The man was bloody brilliant.

  He was talented to the point Lily was fairly certain should be illegal. That much genius simply couldn’t be contained in a single, honed and deliciously tempting body.

  She winced and scraped the adjectives from that last thought.

  No, she didn’t like the art because of the man. If anything, she considered herself lucky to have been able to meet the man behind the art. Well, maybe even sleep with him when the time came. But none of that changed the impression his work had left on her.

  God, it sounded insane, but it had spoken to her soul, whatever that was.

  She sighed. Even if William were to send her to hell, she’d still stand behind every praise she’d written.

  Yeah. She was well and utterly fucked.

  “You look stunning.” Audrey flopped herself onto her stomach on Lily’s bed. She placed her freshly drained martini glass on the floor, blue eyes scanning every inch of Lily’s body. “Just promise me you’ll report every detail of how your dashing gentleman won’t be able to keep his hands to himself.”

  Lily grimaced at her, then snickered. “We’re not having sex on the first date.”

  “Sure you’re not.” Audrey burst out laughing. “Your fuck-me meter is off the charts, darling, and I have no doubts his will be, too, once he sees you.”

  Well, Audrey wasn’t wrong, exactly. She had been willing to have sex with him up against the gallery wall… She glanced at herself in the mirror. Nor was her clever friend mistaken about the outfit.

  The dress fitted her like a charm—a thigh-length black Phillip Plein she’d managed to snatch at an online sale. It had a massive silver skull done in glittering stones that stretched across her breasts and reached all the way down to her navel, and the rounded neckline was just deep enough to show off the goods while not being too obvious about it. She loved the dress on its own, but somehow knowing William would see her in it made it…more. If she weren’t brimming with anticipation, she might have scolded herself for the ridiculous thought. As it was, imagining William taking it all in…

  The heat in her cheeks returned with a vengeance.

  Audrey was infuriatingly right as always.

  She was dressing up for William’s—although, consequently, her own—benefit, but, shit, the ensemble looked stunning. The Plein coupled with heeled, ball-buster ankle boots and a classic camel coat was the perfect blend of rock and elegance.

  Precisely her drug of choice.

  That. And William Charleston.

  “Where did you run off to, anyway?” she asked as she started to unpin the hot rollers from her hair.

  Audrey had been nowhere in sight when Lily had walked back into the gallery to tour the rooms. That, in itself, wasn’t surprising as they agreed not to stick together given who Lily was meeting there. But the two texts they exchanged during the day left a lot to be desired.

  “Went for a couple of drinks with Bram and his buddies.” Audrey pursed her lips, cutting off Lily’s reply. “Didn’t have time to type… Then didn’t exactly see the letters all that well any longer. The hangover today wasn’t helpful, either.”

  Ah, that explained the dark circles under her eyes, then, as well as her absence at uni. But it definitely did not explain the lack of hearing all about her friend’s evening. She’d been with Auster for fuck’s sake. And given how perky the professor had been when he realized Audrey was at the gallery…

  Hell, Lily expected to see her laughing manically as she recouped what went down between them.

  “So what went wrong?” She pulled another hot roller out and inspected the curl, then spied Audrey’s reflection in the mirror. Definitely not chipper enough. “Shouldn’t this be like a jackpot or something? You’ve been trying to get him alone for a year now, hon.”

  “That’s just it. We weren’t alone. Not even for a fucking minute.”

  Lily glanced over her shoulder. “Maybe Auster didn’t want to push his luck. You are still officially his student. If he made a move and you reported him…”

  “He’s shagged students before.”

  “Decades ago. Rules were a bit different back then. More bendable.”

  A
long, suffering groan was Audrey’s answer, followed by something that sounded a lot like “I’m bendable.”

  But there was a hint of a laugh lurking beneath it all, too. Audrey wasn’t about to give up on their charmer of a professor anytime soon, that much was certain.

  After running her fingers through her hair to gently break up the curls, Lily took a brush to them to add a bit of that polished, glamorous effect. She bit on her lower lip once she was done, gaze pinned on Audrey’s reflection.

  “Maybe I can ask William to put in a good word for you. The two of them seemed quite chummy yesterday.”

  “Still fucking upset I missed that,” Audrey mumbled, bracing her chin with her palms. “Though I guess a massive amount of good looks like that confined to a single space must break some universal law designed to keep our poor ovaries from exploding.”

  “You know what”—Lily chuckled—“you might be onto something there.”

  The two men had looked remarkably dashing, even if her attention was drawn only to one. Pushing those ridiculous “exploding ovaries” gifs from her mind, she checked her hair one last time, then threw herself on the bed, letting Audrey see all the pent-up crazy she’d kept on a short leash until now.

  “I still can’t believe you have a date with William Charleston.” Audrey shook her head, a wicked smile resting on her lips. “William fucking Charleston.”

  “Yeah.” She grinned.

  A part of her still couldn’t believe last night had been real. She knew she cleaned up well, but the thought of him finding her attractive… The memory of what he’d said to her…

  Ignoring the onslaught of butterflies low in her body, she winked. “I just have to keep myself from drooling all over him, and I’ll be fine.”

  “Please. Like he’d mind a bit of saliva,” Audrey said dryly.

  Silence stretched between them for a second, almost two. Then they burst into laughter, chortling uncontrollably until Lily’s stomach started to ache. Once she finally managed to catch her breath, she picked up her martini from the nightstand and ceremoniously lifted it into the air.

  “To dashing older men. May they continue to age like fine wine.”

  Audrey clinked her empty glass against hers. “And get over what’s proper for long enough to fuck us silly.”

  8

  Black Tights

  Of all the things William imagined on his way over to the pub, he never thought he’d walk in to see his date tucked behind a corner table, her brow lightly furrowed as she pored over a book. Her brown curls spilled across her bare shoulders, the way she was angled making her breasts so fucking inviting that the whole tent-in-the-pants thing was starting to become a bloody serious issue all over again.

  Actually, the sight of her made William stand there like a complete tool before a couple of glances from the other patrons got his feet moving. He veered over to the bar to pass on his order for a single malt scotch, then made his way through the throng of people milling around the high tables dominating the center of the space. He paused again, briefly this time, just to take in the view.

  A dream. It had to be.

  After all the times life had fucked him over, William had stopped believing that there was anything really good about it. People pushed through their existence, making up false happiness through too many hours spent in pubs—which, in his case, more often than not turned sour the instant he started downing his drinks just to forget how bloody irritated he was by the company around him. By the fact that he knew he should be enjoying a quiet night at home, but couldn’t because Trisha would be there, finding yet another thing to fight over.

  Yeah, watching someone enjoy a book in the middle of a pub was a dream. Especially when he’d already caught a glimpse of the brilliant person behind it.

  “Good evening, Lily.”

  “Evening, William.” She smiled up at him, a blush creeping up her cheeks, and closed the novel. Ursula Le Guin’s The Left Hand of Darkness.

  Oh, hell…

  He didn’t think it was possible for the woman to make him more aroused, but there she was, reading his absolute favorite book. If it weren’t for that flicker of rational thought he stubbornly held on to, he would have gotten down on one knee and proposed right on the spot.

  As it was, he merely shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the chair set opposite Lily’s bench.

  “I won’t bite,” she said sweetly, arching an eyebrow. “Unless you prefer to keep your back to a full room rather than sit here with me in plain sight.”

  He didn’t. He was one of those people who felt trapped far too quickly unless he had a view of the space, however small. But cozying up next to her on that bench… Well, it made him seriously consider braving a faint spell of anxiety just to keep him from getting arrested for indecent exposure. Randy old man.

  He swallowed. Ah, to hell with it…

  “If you don’t mind.”

  Lily shot him a look that made it perfectly clear just how much she didn’t. He slid into the empty spot next to her, their knees brushing lightly.

  For long moments, neither of them said a thing, and that suited William just fine. After all, he was a bit preoccupied with taking deep, measured breaths and fighting the impulse to stare at the hem of Lily’s dress. He’d accidentally witnessed how it clung to her shapely thighs, and it was impossible to block out the visual now.

  Fuck, he always did have a weakness for smooth, black tights.

  “Good choice of book,” he said just to divert his attention.

  So much for using silence to control himself. He needed something, anything to keep his mind—and mouth—occupied with something that wasn’t Lily Summers’s bloody brilliant body. His cock, however, didn’t get the memo.

  He placed one hand across his lap to cover up his erection.

  “It’s been on my TBR list forever.” She tapped her fingers against the cover, then absentmindedly caressed the thick spine. A bloody erotic gesture if there was any. “I heard a few bad reviews, so I’ve been putting it off for ages.”

  “And were they right?” he asked cautiously, hoping to god she wouldn’t rip it apart.

  Her entrancing green eyes widened. “Shit, no. To be completely honest, for a while there, I was so immersed I almost forgot who I was meeting.”

  Perfect, perfect woman.

  William leaned a little closer. A mischievous smile tugged on the corners of his lips as he brushed one of those curls back off her shoulder, her skin smooth beneath his touch.

  “Should I be jealous?”

  Lily’s laugh was low and husky, and for what felt like the millionth time, he regretted choosing a public venue instead of just asking her over to his place for a drink.

  No. That’s precisely why you picked the bar.

  He sighed inwardly. Sometimes, he really was the biggest thorn in his own chivalrous side.

  “Well…” Lily pursed her lips, the glimmer in her eyes growing brighter. “I guess that depends on how thoroughly you charm me, Mr. Charleston.”

  William told himself he wouldn’t have done it if it hadn’t been for the invitation in her voice. And maybe he would have actually believed the lie if he could bring himself to care.

  Dropping his hand onto that damned, titillating thigh, he leaned over and kissed her.

  9

  A Quick Fuck-and-Run

  For one tiny, tiny moment, Lily froze. This was just…wow.

  William Charleston was kissing her in a pub. No, not only was he kissing her, slowly caging her against the wall, but his hand was traveling up her inner thigh, and if it reached any farther, he would know just how treacherously wet she was for him. She was pretty sure the panties and tights were already compromised.

  She suppressed a hungry moan when his tongue brushed against hers, then leaned back a little, settling herself against the corner as William all but climbed on top of her. Fucking hell, she wanted him on top, wanted to be crushed under his weight. Wanted him to take her right then an
d there, audience be damned.

  Luckily, the thought was enough to smack some sense into her dazed brain.

  “William,” she breathed, but stole another kiss before allowing him to retreat.

  For what it was worth, the man looked about as flushed as she felt. Still, his hand continued to tease her thigh, those unnerving fingers of his creating curving patterns across her far too sensitive skin. The caresses continued even as the waitress walked over and deposited William’s drink on their table—and shot a conspirator’s grin Lily’s way.

  Oh god. She turned an embarrassing shade of pink.

  Of course she did.

  This wasn’t something she had experience in, and listening to Audrey’s wild stories was so not the same as being an active participant.

  This… This was new, completely uncharted territory.

  She’d only ever had two sexual partners in her life, and both had been boyfriends for a few years before things watered down, all the way to the inevitable, mutual breakup. One-night stands just weren’t on her repertoire.

  So why did she want William Charleston to ravish her senseless?

  Her six-month dry spell couldn’t be it. She’d crossed paths with a number of attractive men, but none made her want to shimmy out of her panties for a night of fun.

  Was it the thrill of hooking up with someone older?

  William said he didn’t do casual, but casual could potentially be interpreted as a steady sex partner without the whole relationship aspect attached. Audrey certainly used the term that way. So, truly, his statement did not necessarily mean he was averse to a quick fuck-and-run, right?

  But no, that wasn’t it, either. She could practically feel his desire for something grander etched in those bloody fabulous strokes of his fingers.

  The man might not have said anything outright, but he wanted more than just what her body had to offer.