Текст книги "Lies Unspoken "

Автор книги: Lisa DeJong

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

“WHAT’S EATING YOU TONIGHT?” Dana asks.

I’ve been standing in front of the bar staring at a tray of dirty glasses for God knows how long. I hadn’t even realized I was doing it until just now.

“I’m just tired,” I answer, shaking myself out of Lila-land. The truth is, Blake was gone when I woke up this morning, and he hadn’t come home before I left for work. I don’t want to think about him, but there must be part of me that cares or I wouldn’t feel this way. It’s like someone burned a tiny hole in my chest and the pain keeps spreading the longer I go without hearing from him. I hate feeling like this.

“Liar.”

Tapping my fingernails on the old wooden bar, I contemplate how much I should tell her or if I should tell her anything at all. It bothers me that he disappears all the time without any explanation, not that he really owes me one. He’s said that he doesn’t work so what does he do for days at a time? Where does he go?

I try to chase any twisted yet viable explanations from my mind, but that’s easier said than done. Does he have women across town who he spends the night with? Is that who Aly is? I’ve been thinking about her since he said her name the other morning, hoping she’s nothing more than a character in his dreams.

“It’s Blake.”

That sparks her interest right away. “What did he do now?”

More nail tapping. “He kissed me.”

Her eyes double in size. “I knew it. You lasted longer than I would have, though.”

“It’s not like that.”

Sure, he kissed me. It was nice, but then he just left after—the epitome of romantic.

“Well! Spill it,” she demands, glancing around to make sure no one is within earshot. She knows me well enough to know I’m not the kiss-and-tell kind of girl.

“It was the best and worst kiss I’ve ever had. How is that even freaking possible?” I’m more expressive about it than I thought I would be, throwing my arms up in the air.

“You’re going to have to elaborate.”

“He came in all mad because I left the bar without telling him. He yelled at me, then he kissed me, then he told me to never let it happen again.”

She steps back, shaking her head. “I’d say he likes you, but he doesn’t want to. And, I’m sensing a bad case of commitment-itis.”

“So what do I do? I have to live with him.”

“First off, don’t you dare fall for him. He doesn’t deserve you.” She pauses, a huge smile spreading across her face. “I’d fuck him, though. Just once because I bet you all my tips that he knows exactly what he’s doing.”

She’s crazy. Nuts actually. I turn back to the bar, signaling to Charlie that I need another round.

“Lila, listen to me for once.”

I keep my back to her.

“How many guys have you been with?” she asks when I don’t react.

I turn to glare at her.

She continues, “From your nice non-answer, I’m going to guess that you’re a virgin, or you’ve had, at maximum, one or two partners. Nothing to be embarrassed about, but Lila, Blake could rock your world. At the very least, he’ll show you how good things can be under the sheets.”

“When you say it like that, it sounds pathetic.”

For the first time since I’ve worked here, I’m actually happy to see Charlie standing in front of me. He saves me from Dana and her insane ideas. “What do you need?” he asks.

“Two Bud Lights, and a shot of Jager,” I blurt, hoping he puts the order together just as fast. I already told Dana more than I should have, handing her enough ammo to make the situation worse.

“Look, I know you don’t want to talk about this anymore, but be careful. Seriously,” she says, squeezing my shoulder.

As she walks away, I realize there’s only one option. I have to move, get my own apartment so I don’t have to deal or think about Blake. It’s the only way.

My whole life is in a tailspin. Blake hasn’t come home, and I have no way of getting ahold of him, not that I’d try. Charlie’s is keeping me busy, but it’s not challenging me in the ways I want. It’s not why I sat in crowded classrooms for four years.

Since I left work last night, I’ve been thinking about Pierce’s offer, and how stupid I’ve been for not calling him back right away. It’s an opportunity that most of the people I graduated with would kill for.

I pace my room to keep my nerves at bay. He called three days ago, and there’s been nothing but radio silence on my end. I’m quieting the voices that keep telling me I’m not good enough or qualified enough because I need this—a reason to stay in Chicago.

“Stanley.” Pierce’s deep voice floats through the phone.

“Hello, Mr. Stanley.” My voice shakes. I quicken my steps to chase the nerves away. “It’s Lila.”

“Lila?” The way my name rolls off his tongue stops my maniacal pacing. It reminds me how easy he is to talk to.

I run my fingers through my hair, inhaling deeply. “Yeah, airplane Lila. I’m sorry it took so long to call you back. I didn’t know if I should respond, but I’ve had time to think about it, and I’d like to apply for the apprenticeship. If it’s still available, that is. I—”

“We’re still hiring,” he cuts me off. “Would you be able to come down for an interview this afternoon?”

“Today?” Shit. I don’t have anything to wear to a real interview.

He laughs. “This afternoon would be today.”

How bad do you want it, Lila? Do you want to crawl back to Nebraska with your tail between your legs? “Yeah, I can make it. What time is good for you?”

“Two o’clock.”

“Don’t you need to check with your secretary or something first?”

“No, Ms. Fields, if there’s something scheduled then, I’ll cancel it. Just make sure you’re here.”

“I’ll be there,” I say, opening the closet door.

We both mutter a short goodbye before I toss my phone onto the bed and start thumbing through Mallory’s closet. I need to look professional with enough edge to showcase my eye for color and design. Mallory is a basic-with-a-hint-of-elegance type girl; this will take every bit of my creativity. Not that I’m a fashionista by any means.

I pull a sleek black pencil skirt off the hanger, and then shop her closet for the perfect shirt. Nothing catches my eyes.

Frustrated, I throw the skirt over the end of the bed and shower. If this interview doesn’t pan out, I might not get another chance anytime soon. Everything has to be perfect. I can’t go into it thinking I can’t do it. I can’t go in thinking about Derek or Blake or all the other reasons my life hasn’t been going the way I want.

After drying and straightening my hair, I pull it back in a perfect bun at the nape of my neck, letting a few wavy strands stay loose around my face. It makes me look older—professional.

I wonder what Blake would think if he saw me like this, in my element, reaching for my dreams. Would he find it attractive? Would the skirt I picked out bring on a replay of the other night? I shake my head, trying to chase it away. Stop thinking about him, Lila. He’s not worth it.

I select a blush-colored lace bra and panty set to give myself some needed confidence. Feeling sexy always allows me to keep my head up, no matter what I’m doing, and I definitely need that today.

There’s a silk blouse I brought with me—white with black polka dots that will look great paired with my pencil skirt. I pull it from my small corner in Mallory’s closet and put it on, leaving the top three buttons unfastened.

After a layer of make-up, a toothbrush, and a pair of black pumps, I’m ready to go an hour before I need to leave.

To kill time, I sit down with today’s paper. If I get this job, and continue working at Charlie’s, I’ll be able to afford my own apartment. Looking at the ads, it seems that apartments in this area are some of the most affordable. I circle a few that I think will fit in my budget and set it aside, hoping I get to call on some later.

Thinking about Charlie’s reminds me that I’m supposed to work a shift tonight. With no idea how long the interview will take, I text Dana and ask if there’s anyone who could possibly cover my shift. In case there’s not, I grab the little pieces of fabric Charlie calls a uniform and tuck them into my purse.

Bored and anxious, I throw on my black coat and head to the train stop. It takes me less than thirty minutes to get downtown, and the map on my phone leads me straight to Stanley Development. It’s a high rise with wall-to-wall windows—the kind of building I always dreamed about working in one day. Like the big shot executives in the movies.

The lobby has white and black granite floors, gray walls, and a huge antique chandelier hanging high up above. It’s a timeless design—one that only requires a change in accessories every now and then.

“Can I help you?” the doorman asks. He’s an older gentleman who smiles as if he has the best job in the entire world.

“I’m looking for Pierce Stanley’s office.”

His smile widens. “Twelfth floor. Elevators are down the hall to your left.”

“Thank you.” I wave and start walking, trying to stop myself from gawking. I hit the up button and wait with two men dressed in ill-fitting suits. When the door opens, we squeeze in with several other people. Here goes nothing, I think to myself. The higher we climb, the harder it is to breathe. My life isn’t dependent on this, but it sure as hell feels like it.

I follow the two suited guys out when we reach Pierce’s floor, noticing they’re around my age—fresh out of college.

“May I help you?” a professionally dressed woman with a perfect blonde bob asks, a welcoming smile on her face.

“Yes,” one of the guys answers, “I’m here to interview for an apprenticeship with Mr. Stanley.”

“I’m here for the same,” the other guy pipes in.

I stay back, waiting for her to see me, but in the back of my mind I know if this is my only competition, I’m a shoe in. Both of these guys came dressed like they don’t give a damn. There’s no flair—nothing that says they want to be remembered after they’re gone.

“Take a seat,” the woman says to them. “Someone will be with you in just a few moments.”

They walk away, and the receptionist’s eyes focus in on me. “How can I help you?”

“Hi. I’m Lila Fields, and I have an interview for the apprenticeship at two.”

Her eyes travel my body, but quickly come back up. “Oh, yes, Ms. Fields. Mr. Stanley will be seeing you soon. Please have a seat, and I’ll let him know you’re here.”

“Thank you.”

I pull off my coat before taking a seat. Each second feels like an eternity as I wait nervously, memorizing every detail of the swanky office. This really is where I aspire to be . . . my dream.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see two sets of eyes on my crossed legs and adjust myself so I can’t see them at all. At least I know the skirt is a homerun.

“Lila.” It’s the way he says my name, more than his actual voice, that’s distinctive. Looking to my right, I see Pierce standing there in a light gray suit with a baby blue button-up underneath. His dark hair is slicked back away from his face. He’s a breath-taking vision—the kind I’ve only seen in designer suit ads.

“Mr. Stanley.”

I stand on shaky knees, ready to shake his hand, but he grabs the coat from me instead, walking it over to the receptionist. “Can you put this in the closet please and make sure Ms. Fields gets it before she leaves.” It’s a command, not a question.

He motions for me to follow him, and I do. His hands are tucked into his pockets, lifting his suit coat just enough for me to get a peek at his perfect backside. It should be illegal to look that good in wool. At least the scenery keeps my anxiety at bay.

At the end of the hall, he opens the door to an office that is bigger than my whole apartment. The floors are the same as the entry, but a plush white rug sits in the center. An oversized mahogany desk sits on one side, and a couch and bookcase on the other. A large table sits in the middle displaying models of high rises. I’m tempted to go get a closer look, but my legs are too wobbly to venture too far.

“Do you like it?”

For the second time today, I catch myself gawking. “It’s huge.”

He laughs, running his thumb along his lower lip. “The bigger, the better, right?”

My face turns a bright shade of red. “That’s what they say.”

“Take a seat,” he instructs, pointing to one of two black leather chairs in front of his desk.

I do as he asks, forcing one foot in front of the other. Once I’m comfortably seated, I feel a little more in control. “Do you conduct all of the apprenticeship interviews?”

He grins. “I don’t. But I thought you’d be more comfortable interviewing with me personally.”

“Why do you want me?” I shake my head, realizing the weight of my words. “For this position, I mean.”

“I saw something in you, and I want to explore it.” His voice is deep and masculine; I could listen to it all day. “Tell me, where did you go to school?”

I open my purse and pull out a copy of my resume, handing it to him. “UCLA.”

“And you’re from Nebraska?”

“Yes, long story,” I answer, crossing one leg over the other. One simple question, and my heart is already racing.

“What is your goal? What do you want to be when you grow up, Ms. Fields?”

“I want to design commercial spaces. I don’t want to arrange furniture or put together centerpieces. I know I have to start at the bottom, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make a name for myself.”

“What inspires you?”

I sit back, a little more relaxed. “It’s usually something small. A piece of art or fabric. I take in the colors and the lines and imagine it on a larger scale.”

“Name the last space that made you think, I wish I’d come up with that.” His eyes never leave me. So intense. So powerful.

“I’m not sucking up when I say this, but whoever designed your entrance is a genius.”

“Really?” he asks. He’s going to tell me he hates it, or it’s outdated. I feel it. “Because I designed that myself.”

I stare openly.

He laughs. “It’s okay, Lila. Very few people know I did that.”

I nod, darting my tongue out to moisten my dry lips. “So what does this apprenticeship involve?”

“We’re working on two hotel projects in the next couple months. The Design Apprentice will assist our design team in transforming them, and if all goes well, take on a permanent role in the company.”

I wonder if he notices my eyes lighting up. “When will you be making a decision?”

His lips curl. “I think I already have. Can you be here Monday morning at eight?”

“Seriously?” I ask, wanting to jump from my chair.

“It’s yours. The pay isn’t much, but if you succeed, it’ll be worth it in the long run.” He probably closes quite a few business deals, layering the good with the bad.

“What is the pay? Can I ask?”

“It would be stupid not to. Fifteen dollars an hour during the apprenticeship.” Right now, that’s a lot for me, but he doesn’t have to know that.

“I’ll take it.” I want to jump up and hug him, but I don’t.

He gets up from his chair, coming around his desk. “You made my day, Ms. Fields,” he says, offering me his hand.

“Likewise,” I say, placing my hand in his. “Thank you. For everything.”

The second he lets go of me, I head to the door, anxious to call everyone I know. “Did I dismiss you, Ms. Fields?”

Every part of my body stops moving, heart included. Once I regain my composure, I look back. “Sorry. I thought you were done with me.”

He takes long strides toward me, only stopping when we’re a couple feet apart. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Excuse me?”

His eyes drink me in. The way he does it leaves me feeling exposed and naked. “Is there a man in your life right now?”

What does this have to do with the job? Why would he be asking me this? He’s a powerful man behind a very successful business. What does he want from me? On top of that, the question is totally illegal. I learned that much in Business 101.

“Technically the interview is over,” he says, putting an end to the swirling thoughts in my head.

Blake’s face flashes through my mind, but I dismiss it. We’re nothing but an inconvenience to each other—definitely not dating.

“No,” I mumble, shaking my head to confirm the same. Since Derek, there’s been no one. I don’t think someone special even exists.

“Good.” He smiles then walks back to his desk. “You’re free to go now.”

I’m in a complete daze as I walk down the hall. Another strange Chicago job interview, but like the first, this one goes my way. It doesn’t mean I don’t question Pierce’s motives. We shared forty-five minutes of non-life altering conversation on a plane, and it landed me here. I would have run ten miles in heels if it meant the job would mine. I just want it to be for the right reasons.

The receptionist hands me my coat before I even ask for it, and I quickly shut myself in the elevator, afraid Pierce will change his mind. As I ride down, I pull out my cell phone and see a text from Dana, letting me know she found someone to cover my shift. I could have made it since the interview didn’t take as long as I thought it would, but it gives me time to celebrate.

I text Mom and Mallory, letting them know I’m on my way to living the dream and step back out into the cold winter air.

A SMILE CURVES MY LIPS as I make my way down the narrow hallway that leads to the apartment. Today was unexpectedly amazing . . . I haven’t had many days like that lately.

My phone was full of unread texts I’d ignored during the train ride home.

Mallory: I knew you’d find something. Details . . .

Mom: So happy for you. If it doesn’t work out, you always have a place at home.

Mom had mixed feelings about me moving here. She was happy I’d finally started to move on from Derek, but she was hoping I’d do it a little closer to home. The only thing that will give her reassurance is time.

I tuck my phone away and pull my key out. It turns easily, and my mouth falls open when I see Blake leaning against the kitchen counter waiting for me. I wasn’t expecting him today . . . or tomorrow . . . or even the next day. Not after what happened the other night.

“Hey,” I whisper, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

He pushes off the counter, eyes locked with mine as he stalks toward me. My heart pounds against my chest, enough that I hear it between my ears.

He stands so close that moving forward even an inch would have us touching. Reaching behind me, he slams the door shut. I shutter. From head to toe, a jolt rips through me. He’s not even touching me, but I feel him. The heat radiating from his body. His warm breath. I read the intense desire in his eyes, and then it all becomes too much.

Shaking my head, I try to push past him, but he wraps his arm around my waist, pulling my back to his chest. “Please don’t go.”

“What?” A part of me wants to snuggle against him—to feel the warmth of his body—while the other part is begging for space.

He walks us forward, pointing at the marked up newspaper I left on the table this afternoon. “Don’t go,” he says again.

“I have to. I’m done with this. One of us has to go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, tilting my chin with his finger so my eyes are level with his.

“Then I am. I can’t do this hot and cold bullshit. I moved here to make life less complicated, and you’ve turned it into a freaking Rubik’s cube.” I want to be angry. I need the strength to put distance between us, but I can’t. Not when his skin is against mine. He paralyzes my ability to be the strong woman I strive to be.

“I don’t want you to go.” His nose is pressed against my hair. He inhales, curling his fingers around my silk shirt.

“Blake.” As his name leaves my lips, the fabric moves up my stomach. When I feel his fingertips brush across my skin, the hair on the back of my neck stands up. It’s been too long since I’ve felt this way—needing to have someone else’s skin against mine. Blake might be the last person I should be doing this with, but he makes me aware of my own heartbeat, strong and thunderous.

Laying my head back against his shoulder, I allow him to explore my neck with his mouth. His calloused hand runs the length of my stomach, increasing my desire. I’ve never wanted in the way I want him. His touch is wiping all doubt from my mind.

I shouldn’t do this.

I can’t do this.

A guy like Blake will only distract me. He’ll grip me tight, and then when I think I’m safe—when I think my heart’s safe—he’ll let me go. I can’t afford to take that risk. I can’t afford to have my heart shattered again by a guy like him.

“I can’t,” I whisper, trying to loosen his grip on me. He doesn’t let up.

“You can,” he says, crossing his arms over my stomach. “Because I’m done fighting you. I’m done fighting this.” He turns me in his arms, holding my face in his hands. “I don’t want a relationship, but I want you. Be with me . . . just like this.”

I close my eyes. I don’t want a relationship, but I want you . . . what does that mean exactly? Is he making an exception? What if I don’t want to be his exception? The sensations he sent through my body just a couple minutes ago linger, making it hard to think.

“I don’t understand,” I finally say, my voice shaky.

His hands still cupping my face, he walks me back until I’m against the wall. His gaze is powerful, paralyzing me. No one’s ever looked at me like that. Not Derek, not anyone. “I want to fuck you so good that you’ll be begging me to fuck you again. Then tomorrow, I’ll do it all over so you don’t forget how good my cock feels buried inside of you.”

He slides his fingers down around the base of my neck, then down my arms, letting his thumbs brush against my breasts. “The way your body curves into mine, the way you shudder under my touch; I feel it, Lila. You want this. I know I want this.”

If I could orgasm from words alone, I’d be clenching around every single syllable that just fell from his lips. He grips my hips pulling me into him. So big. I’m like an alcoholic that’s been given a sip; there’s no going back.

Standing up on my tippy toes, I brush my lips against his, pulling his lower lip between my teeth. I savor him, not sure where this is going or what I’m doing exactly. When he pulls away from me, my heart shrinks.

“Before we do this, you have to agree to one thing.”

I nod nervously, anxious to just have his mouth on mine again.

“No feelings. No attachment. Just you and me, like this. Can you do that?”

Can I? I don’t want a relationship, but am I ready for this? He’d be a distraction—a welcome one . . . or maybe not. It’s a decision I’ll probably end up regretting either way.

My gaze travels between his eyes and lips. He has me so hot and full of want, or want to be full of him. I answer the only way I can, fisting his T-shirt while licking my lower lip. A sexy, half-smile highlights his mouth, then it’s on me, everywhere my skin has been exposed. He encircles me in his arms, tugging my skirt up from behind. Then he lifts me, forcing me to wrap my legs around his waist. If it weren’t for his jeans and my thong and panty hose, he’d be inside me. God, I want him inside me.

“Do you know how sexy you are? Dressed all professionally and shit,” he mutters against my neck. “I’ve always wanted my own little secretary.”

I moan, arching my body into him. “What are you going to do to me then, boss?”

“Fuck,” he groans. His thumbs flick over my nipples, and I realize I’ve never needed someone so badly.

Snaking my arms over his shoulders, I bury my face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his usual scent. I nibble and suck while he walks toward his room, his arms holding me tightly against his strong body.

I have seconds to change my mind. The sane part of me is screaming to put an end to this madness, but the mind is a small part of the body as a whole.

He rests one knee on the bed, allowing me to fall back. He kisses me. Deeply. Desperately. My world is spinning so fast; it’s going to fall right off its axis. He expertly undoes all my buttons, exposing my lace bra. A low growl escapes his lips, as he sucks my nipples through the thin material. I pull his hair between my fingers, feeling the need to drive him as insane as he’s driving me.

His tongue trails a path down my stomach, tracing a circle around my belly button, and then going down to the top of my skirt. He rests his chin on my abdomen, looking up at me, eyes hooded. “You have way too many damn clothes on.”

I’m thinking the same about him. Finding the zipper along the side of my skirt, he slides it down and makes easy work of discarding it. My hose and panties follow.

I watch as he stands and pulls his shirt over his head, his eyes never leaving my naked form on the bed. This is the first time I’ve let myself be exposed in front of someone I didn’t love—someone I’m not even sure if I like most of the time. I thought it would be strange, but the way he looks at me makes me feel wanted. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this sexy.

I wiggle on the bed, squeezing my legs together to keep my body occupied. There’s a growing hunger; the longer I watch him, the more I feel it.

I stare as he pulls his zipper down and pushes his jeans and boxers down over his throbbing cock. It’s impressive, I have to give him that.

“Open your legs for me,” he demands, walking over to his nightstand. I don’t comply. I can’t because I’m too busy watching him. He pulls out a condom and glances over at me, shaking his head.

“Legs, Lila,” he says again, a little louder this time. I comply as he makes his way back to the end of the bed, carefully rolling on the condom along the way. His body could be a sculpture; it’s well proportioned—lean and muscular. He sets one knee between my legs and runs his fingers against my opening. Arching my back, all I can do is look at him.

A grin spreads across his face as he wipes his soaked fingers against the inside of my thigh. “Who are you wet for, Lila?”

Unable to form real words, I attempt to reach for him, to pull him down to me, but he presses against my chest to keep me away. This is not normal—the amount of desire I have for him.

His fingers brush against the top of my thighs, so close to where I actually want him, but far enough away to deny me what I need. “Who, Lila . . . who did this to you?”

“You,” I whimper, reaching my hands toward him.

He lifts his other leg up and holds his body above mine. “Tell me what you want.”

I lift my hips, but it’s no use. It doesn’t give me what I want. “You. I need you inside of me. Now.”

He lowers himself on top of me, his lips parting as he enters me. There’s nothing slow and sweet about it—he pushes in as far as my body will allow him. “Fuck,” he mutters, pulling back out. “You feel so fucking good wrapped around me.”

I moan, feeling the pressure build as he thrusts himself into me over and over. With Derek, it was all about him. He didn’t touch me like this. He didn’t wind my body like this. He wasn’t Blake.

Blake holds my hands above my head, kissing my lips and neck. I wither under him. Every time I think I’m going to scream, he captures my lips, swallowing my cries. The tingle between my legs intensifies. I’m going to lose it, and by the quickening of his movements, he’s going to come right along with me.

“Who are you going to dream about tonight in your sleep? Who’s going to be touching you?”

I pant, arching up to take in more of him. “You, Blake. I’m going to think about you.”

His lips curl up at one side. “Good girl.”

Without notice, he lets go of my hands and uses my leg as leverage to flip me over onto my stomach. I lift my ass, making it easier for him as he pounds into me. When he presses his hand against my lower back, my body falls over the edge clenching tightly around him.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, wrapping his arm around my stomach. He’s throbbing inside of me as my body grips him. When I come off the high, we both fall onto the bed. I’m sated, tired, and more relaxed than I’ve been in months. I’d do it all over again right now if he asked.

Blake rolls off me and lays at the edge of the bed. I hear him breathing heavily, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. What do two people who aren’t dating do after sex?

“Are you okay?” he finally asks, breaking my thoughts.

I turn to face him. He’s staring up at the ceiling, rubbing his hand along his jaw. “More than okay.”

“Good.” He glances toward me, and then rolls off the bed and heads to the bathroom without another word. When he shuts the door behind him, I take that as my cue. There’s not going to be any post sex cuddles. No bed sharing. This is what he meant by leaving our hearts out of it.

I slip off his bed and hurry to pick my clothes off the floor before making my way back to my bedroom. I thought I was okay with this, maybe I still am, but it’s not what I’m used to. It doesn’t mean I wouldn’t do it again.