Though sharing it with someone is new for me. I’ve never brought anyone here before, but I hadn’t even thought twice about bringing Lilah here.
What the hell does that say?
I’ve never been interested in sharing rooftop views and conversations over sushi, yet here I am.
I tell myself that I’m pulling out all the stops in order to achieve my goal, but another part of me knows that isn’t completely true. I find myself enjoying this a little too much and I know I need to pump the brakes.
“This is incredible,” Lilah says beside me, forcing me to abandon my troubling thoughts.
Still brooding, I don’t say anything as she begins to fill me in on the random day trips she and her mom used to take to New York City during the summers when she was a girl.
I’m only half-listening at first, but in true Lilah fashion her enthusiasm proves to be contagious and pulls me right out of my dark mood.
When I tune back in and focus on the way her lips are moving, I’m reminded of something that has been evident from the start, that Lilah Tucker is fucking trouble.
Seventeen
LILAH
The view from up here is breathtaking. I feel like I’m suspended on a cloud high above the bustling chaos taking place below us.
City lights shine bright, illuminating the dark sky instead of the twinkling stars I’m used to back home in Connecticut.
Andrew finds it mind boggling that I’ve lived in close proximity to a city like this my entire life and I’ve never truly explored it as an adult. I tell him that the trips with my mom stopped around middle school.
As I grew older, I never felt compelled to venture here on my own. Well, scratch that. I felt plenty compelled but there was never enough time. Or money, for that matter.
My head was always buried in a book or I was too busy putting extra hours at the local diner to save for college.
New York City was always on my to-do list, but then the months melted into years…
“That’s too bad,” Andrew says at the end of my spiel. “We’ll have to come back and do it the right way then.”
My thoughts take a dangerous turn at his off-handed remark and I stare at him open-mouthed. He doesn’t seem to think anything of it while he stares back at me with that trademark smirk of his in place.
I hate the little dance my heart is doing at the moment because it’s a tale-tell sign that I’m getting my hopes up. Something I promised myself I wouldn’t do.
His words make it seem like he plans to stick around for a while and something about that is both comforting and disturbing.
I can’t get attached to a man like Andrew, although I suspect it’s already too late. There’s no telling how long his attention span will allow him to linger on me.
The pessimist in me wonders how much time I have before he inevitably grows bored. Nothing about me is glamorous or easy and most men I come in contact with don’t linger once they figure that out.
What’s driving Andrew to stick around? I wish I could read his mind.
“I can’t believe you whisked me off to New York City on a Wednesday night,” I tell him, deciding it’s best to move on and change the subject.
We’re sitting in lounge chairs, surrounded by nothing but open space. I thank my lucky stars that I’m not afraid of heights because our elevation would be cause for panic.
Andrew’s languid form is sprawled out in his chair as he stares out at the adjacent building. Before we sat down, he pushed our chairs together until there was no space between them.
When we were seated, he pulled my feet onto his lap and began massaging them like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Why did things end between the two of you?”
Perplexed, I sit up a little in my chair and look at him.
“What are you talking about?” I ask right back.
“You and the guy who was eye-fucking you at the supermarket. Why did things end between you?” His naturally deep voice is smooth and sends a thrill through my entire being.
“Oh, Mason?”
“His name isn’t important. Tell me what happened between you,” he demands and I can hear the rising stiffness in his voice.
“Why does it matter? We’re not together now. It obviously didn’t work out.”
“He definitely wants to change that,” Andrew summates evenly. His palm is running up and down my legs, igniting sensuous sparks all over my exposed limbs.
I’m shaking my head at him before he can go any further.
“That’s false. We broke up in college because we were better off as friends. Tonight was my first time seeing him in years.”
It feels weird discussing someone from my past with Andrew. He never struck me as the type who’d be interested in hearing about my previous relationships.
“He has a girlfriend by the way,” I follow up.
“And if he didn’t?” Andrew watches me carefully for my response.
“I’m here with you, aren’t I?” I reply raising a brow. His possessive nature never fails to amaze me.
“Just making sure I won’t have to fuck anyone up later,” he says calmly.
My eyeballs nearly fall out of their sockets at the way he cloaks those ominous word in such a casual tone. I think he can read my reaction because he goes on to further explain.
“I don’t share. Plain and simple. If anyone tries to take what’s mine, they’ll regret it before they can complete the fucking thought.”
Gulping, I remain silent for a beat. Why does being claimed by him feel so wickedly empowering? Not once have I ever wanted to belong to someone so badly.
He makes the prospect of being his so incredibly tempting it’s to the point where I almost crave it on a visceral level.
But I need to make sure we’re on the same page first. Because I don’t share either. At least not
