Gilding Lillian
Page 15
“I don’t expect anything from you. I only want you to stay until you don’t want to stay anymore.”
“But I never meant to come back at all.”
She watched with alarm as he went a deathly white.
“Then why did you? And don’t tell me it was for that damn picture.”
“No. It was an excuse—to see you.”
“Then why, Lillian? If you don’t mean to stay, goddamn it, why?”
“I don’t know!” She twisted out of his grasp and rose to her knees beside him. “Look what you have done to me, Griffin Bennett! Look!”
Naked, hair a tangled mess, eyes red from crying, she wiped at her dripping nose with the back of her hand, beyond caring. She was as far from the meticulously crafted persona she had once been as she could imagine. And it was abundantly clear it was entirely his fault—the beautiful, terrifying, maddening, unfathomable creature staring at her as if she had lost her mind.
She truly hadn’t meant to come back. When she’d left Morgan yesterday, she’d made up her mind. She would go to New York. Perhaps she needed distance as well as time to clear her thoughts. But when the cab driver had asked her where she wanted to go the address had come out of her mouth. It was as if the feral and primitive impulse Griffin had unleashed when he’d first kissed her had tired of her vacillation and seized control. She’d been unable to do anything more than lean back and close her eyes during the hour ride to her former home.
He reached for her, but she twisted wildly, avoiding his grasp. “Don’t touch me. Don’t! I can’t think when you touch me.”
He lowered his arm.
“Lillian,” he said softly. “Tell me what to do.”
“Do? Nothing can be done.” She railed at him. “You have ruined me with your talk and your questions and your…your love! I can’t think about other men. Do you understand? A man needed me, and I told him I could not help because of you. I could not do my work…because of you. I thought if I got away, but being away from you.” Her breath hitched. “You’ve ruined me.”
Wracking sobs stole her words and whatever dignity remained. Helpless, she covered her face with her hands.
The mattress shifted and she felt his warmth in front of her. He did not touch her, but she knew he was there. She tipped forward the slightest degree and met his reassuring strength with her forehead. Inching forward on her knees, she closed the space between them until she was pressed along his length. Only when she turned her head, settling her cheek along the line of his shoulder, did he rest his hands, ever so lightly, on her hips. Then he went still as she cried out her frustration and confusion.
Long minutes later, he guided her back onto the mattress. They lay side-by-side, Lillian sniffling quietly against him. His fingers trailed the length of her spine, tracing hypnotic curlicues over her skin. Her eyelids felt swollen and heavy.
“You have to know I didn’t mean for this to happen.” She looked up at him, dragging her cheek over his skin, too weary to lift her head. “I never would have told you how I felt if I had known it would have this effect on you.”
She reached for him, touching his handsome face with her fingertips, saddened by the thought of never having heard him say he loved her.
“No.” She shook her head for emphasis.
“No?”
He cupped her cheek, searching her face intently. As the blue flecks in his gray irises went a sparkling sapphire, she felt a breach. It was as if her heart were being pressed open like the great doors of a cathedral.
“Tell me now,” she whispered.
“I love you, Lillian.”
His words passed through her unguarded core, penetrating her soul.
“Again,” she insisted.
“I love you.”
Her vision blurred before she felt droplets spilling over her lower lashes.
“Again,” she pleaded, breathless.
“I.” He kissed away the tears from one cheek. “Love.” And then the other. “You.” He pressed his lips to hers in a gesture so timeless and pure Lillian knew a brilliant moment of undeniable golden truth.
“Il mio amore,” she told him when he lifted his head to look down at her.
“What does that mean?”
“My love.”
His smile was quick but tight.
“Is that what you call the men reckless enough to fall in love with you?”
“No. It is what I call you. Only you,” she told him patiently. “I don’t know if you will understand. I admire you for coming home for your father. I respect you for accepting your responsibilities. I enjoy you, your body, and your company. I still don’t know how, or if I will ever be able, to love you, but you have made me believe, Griffin. I believe you love me. I didn’t before,” she admitted gruffly. “But I do now. Can you keep it for me? For both of us? Il mio amore, my love. Can it be enough?”
She waited. He relaxed beneath her, a confident grin dawning across his face, lighting him up like a sunrise over a meadow. She thought her heart might burst in the silent, sanctity of the room.
“More than enough.”
Nothing further needed to be said, Griffin pulling her close and enfolding Lillian in his precious love.
The End
Publisher’s Note
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About DawnMarie Richards
DawnMarie Richards’ grandmother introduced her to the romance novel, providing an endless, ever-changing supply of dog-eared Harlequins from a stash kept in a paper grocery bag. As a romance author, DawnMarie writes what she most enjoys reading—passionate love stories spiked with sensual heat in all the right places. She delights in doing that very thing from her home in southern Arizona, which she shares with her husband and their crazy dog, Rand. Want more? Visit www.dawnmarierichards.com.