Obsessed by Ever Lilac

 

 

 

7

 

 

Amber

 

He calls me all mine.The words are so romantic. Loving. Which is why I don’t know why they fill me with shivers. The way he says them makes the hair on my neck prickle and yet they make me feel like I’m being ripped open between my legs.

Invaded.

Overthrown. Broken. Done for.

And that liquidizes me. It’s like they mean more than what they sound like. They mean dark things. Things a girl should run away from and yet I smile at him as he sits on the edge of my bed.

He looks down right hot. Dressed in khaki pants, a pale blue shirt and a navy blazer. Every time I look at him, it makes me bite my lip like a lovesick teenager. But it’s not just about his appearance.

It’s his essence.  The nitty-gritty that makes Stan him.

The concert is tonight and he’s going to be there with me.

Support me in that rare way that only he knows how. Personally, I don’t know how he does it and it makes me curious about him and I ask a lot of questions. He answers them reluctantly, like he doesn’t want to talk a lot about himself.

Like all his focus is on me.

To be honest...he almost doesn’t talk about himself at all. All the info I’ve managed to get on him is that his life, especially in his younger years wasn’t easy. It makes me ache for him.

But he doesn’t seem to want me to ache for him. Not in that way anyway. Instead he wants my mouth. And my body. And all the rest of me.

When we kiss its fireworks. Crushing. So much so that all the four season could pass outside of my window and I wouldn’t have a clue as long as Stan’s lips are on mine. As long as he drinks me and holds me.

Reveres me. We’ve only known each other for a couple of days but I already don’t know how I’ll ever be able to live without him.

It scares me. In a good way. Mostly in a good way.

Right now I have butterflies in my stomach, twisting and twirling in front of Stan because I want him to help me choose what I’m going to wear. His eyes watch me intently and he swallows hard like I’m poking at bottomless emotions.

“What do you think?” I ask with my hands on my hips and I push out a little more than necessary because whenever we kiss, his hands are always groping my butt which he seems to be extra fond of. “Too much?”

“You’re beautiful,” he says in a serious voice. “You always are.” He waves with his two fingers at me, the chain bracelet around his wrist flickering in the light. “Now enough prancing around. Get in my lap and let me taste you.”

My cheeks heat because that’s all we seem to be doing. Kissing. Nuzzling. Petting. The situation is different between us. We’re no longer roommates.

We might even be something more than lovers. But I don’t know if there is a word for that. We seem to be something undefinable. Something that shouldn’t even be talked about. Only whispered.

“Patience,” I smile and he groans miserably, rubbing his forehead and his leg twitches. “Think I’ll change into something else,” I murmur. “Wait here.”

Going into the bathroom and getting out of my dress that was a little too cutesy, I step into my second choice and when I catch my own reflection, I bite my lip.

I think Stan is going to like this one. It’s risky. Maybe even a little too risky, but he’s a guy, right? Don’t they love as much skin as possible?

With my heart fluttering, I dance into the living room, pirouetting in front of him.

His face drops and I stop playing around. His eyes look cornered. Threatened. His hand that’s resting on his knee is clenched and his mouth turns into a firm line.

Maybe Stan isn’t one of those guys who likes this kind of look. At least not on me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask in concern. “Do you hate it?”

The dress is in a sapphire color, transparent just below my behind and around the cleavage. It molds around my body, showcasing every little curve.

“Not that one,” he says in a strained voice, pushing his fingertips together and for a second he vaguely reminds me of a gangster. “Take it off.”

“What?” I jerk my chin. “But I like this one. It was expensive.”

He doesn’t seem to care one bit about how expensive it was. All he seems to care about is that it’s showing too much of me.

“Put on another if you don’t want me to pull you over my lap and make it sting.”

The words sound both sharp and devoted and I gasp, looking at him in surprise. He doesn’t take my surprise in consideration, still looking pissed. I thought he was joking at first but then I swallow, surprised that my body reacted with raising my temperature at his comment.

“Why can’t I just wear this one?”

“Amber,” he says in a stressed voice, his eyes filling with strange emotions, “please...” He looks like he’s having a tough time with this. Like he’s struggling against something. “There will be men at the concert.”

“Always is,” I murmur and his eyes go to mine. They’re practically begging me.

“You’re not meant for them. You’re meant for me. You dress that way for me. You smile for me.” His fists clench again and he takes a deep breath. “Nobody else.”

“Because I’m all yours?”

Something harsh flickers in his gaze, his nostrils flaring. “Do you deny it?”

That would be a lie. Pointless.

I shake my head and he exhales, closing his eyes for just a second and when he opens them again, he’s smiling. Looking...

Normal.

It makes me exhale too and I murmur, “Be right back.”

His face drops the second time too. But this time it’s in awe and it makes my pulse flutter. This dress has a dark color and a sweetheart neckline. It’s not my usual style. Makes me look a little nocturnal but maybe that’s not so bad.

Stan doesn’t seem to think so at least. He seems turned on by the look, more turned on than he was by the skimpy dress.

“I like those colors on you,” he says, “they suit you.”

“You don’t think it’s a little too murky?” I ask, running my hand down my body and Stan seems to appreciate the movement.

“No. You’re perfect in them.”

I flush, pulling a strand of hair behind my ear because the way he says it doesn’t even give room for any protests.

“How are you feeling about tonight?” he asks and I shrug.

“A little nervous.” I twist my hands. “But...I shouldn’t complain since I have all the support that I need. I have you...”

He nods firmly. Like the two of us are entwined. 

“And my brother and Gina are coming too.”

For some reason Stan doesn’t seem to like the idea of that. Not that I know why. He has never even met them.

“They’re joining us?”

I nod. “It’ll be fun. I think we’re all going to get along great. Just know that Gina is a little on the suspicious side and my brother can come across as arrogant, so don’t take that personally.”

A muscle ticks in his jaw. “I won’t. But I thought it was just going to be you and me.”

“You’re going to have to learn how to share, Stan,” I snigger, adding softly, “think you can do that?”

“Share you? Absolutely.”

He grits those words, making me jolt and I look at him with wide eyes. He sounds like he can’t think of anything worse. Like sharing me would be a nightmare.

But then he seems to jerk himself, proceeding with telling me a funny story and it makes me laugh. Stan might be a little on the possessive side, but it’s nothing that I can’t handle.

I glance at his big, strong hands, the sharp cut to his jaw. Those eyes.

Swallowing I tell myself, that yes, I can definitely handle him. I can definitely handle him.

So far...

Tilting his head to the side, he suddenly murmurs, “Will you pull your hair over your shoulder for me.”

I raise my brows but I do as he tells me. “Like this?” A long, dark wave falls beside my face.

“Like that,” he rasps before mournful pain marks his eyes. It frets me. I don’t want him to be in pain. “You remind me a little of someone when you look like that.”

“Who?” I ask in surprise, because this conversation doesn’t feel like our other ones. Usually it’s me talking about myself and I’m always expecting him to tire after a while but he never does.

But I’m more interested in him and I get a slight kick out of this new information.

“My mother,” he replies and I perk my ears because he never talks about her. Or his family. “She was a cellist, just like you.”

That makes me sway a little and I take a step closer to him and he opens his legs, for me to stand in between them.

“I didn’t k...know that.”

“I didn’t tell you,” he says, doing a hard shrug before thoughtfully shaking his head, his eyes filling with memories. “My father was crazy about her. He loved her more than he loved himself. She was his everything.”

Giving Stan a warm smile, I murmur, “That’s so romantic.” My smile widens. “So sweet.”

His eyes turn affectionate, like I’m being far too innocent and he raises his hand, gently wiping out my smile. “It wasn’t romantic, all mine. It was dangerous.”

I glance at him in surprise at the ruthlessness in his voice and he rubs his eyes, suddenly looking tired.

“He damaged her.” Stan’s voice tenses from old anger. “He found out that she was going to leave him, give him up and replace him with her successful music career instead. The idea alone ate at him. He wilted away right in front of our eyes until he one day decided to something about it.”

I’m afraid of his answer, but I still whisper, “What did he do?”

“He stuffed us all into his car...”

“No...” I gasp, putting my hand in front of my mouth, my heart hurting, chafing me.

“And drove us off a bridge,” Stan finishes, shifting in his seat. He glances at me. “I’ve never told anyone what really happened. Always thought I’d take that dirty secret to the grave.”

At first I don’t know what to do or say. I’m still standing between his legs, the warmth from his skin seeping into mine.

His eyes flicker, like he’s expecting me to revolt. Tell him to stay away and give me his key, because his history is so dark. But I would never do that. Feeling closer to him now more than ever.

“Thank you for telling me,” I say in a low voice and then I clutch his hand. “Your secret is safe with me.” I swallow. “And I want you to know that you don’t have to hide anything from me. I mean it.”

“Do you?” he rasps, sounding like he’s doubting me. Like he wants to protect me from something and at the same time expose me to it.

“Yes.”

His fingers comb into my hair and he arranges it back to the way it was, murmuring something about liking it better that way, before yanking me to him, causing me to stumble into his body.

“Fearless.” His mouth pulls to the side in a half smile. “I’ve always liked that about you.”

We kiss and I get caught up in him. Entrapped. I don’t even register that he used the word always.