Page 18 of Wicked Lies Grow Wildflowers
I roll my eyes but I can’t help the blush that creeps up. “Don’t get your hopes up too much, I’m sure there are plenty of ways for you to keep earning my wrath.”
“Nowthatsounds like you intend to have me around for a while.” Of course that would be his response. I think he likes our push and pull, and I have to admit, I do too.
As the meal went on, things got more personal, and he started asking about my family, a topic that is off-limits on all dates forever, let alone a first date. No one wants a broken girl with baggage. I tried to brush off his inquiries, and blessedly, hegot the hint. I could tell he wanted to know more though, but I appreciate that he didn’t pry. His eyes took on an edge when I said that I don’t have any family aside from my mother who I’m essentially estranged with.
That situation sobered me enough that the buzz from my wine dissipated and I suddenly wished to be home, away from the questions. This is why I don’t date. I just can’t voice my past trauma, let alone try and make someone understand it. Xander will either run away from the crazy or pity me like all the others, and I can’t bear to face either. Therefore, deflection is the best answer. The energy in the air has shifted and he can definitely tell. He flags down the waitress to pay the bill, and I excuse myself to the bathroom because I need a breather.
Exiting the bathroom, I’m distracted with fixing my hair and almost crash right into Xander—again. Why is this becoming a common theme with us?
“Didn’t we meet just like this?” he asks smugly.
“You’re very funny.” My voice reeks of sarcasm. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah, baby, lead the way.”
He just called mebaby. I think I may die.
When we arrive at my apartment, he walks me to my door. “Thank you for coming, Wildflower.” He leans down and brushes his lips against mine softly, testing the waters. I lean into the kiss, letting him continue his advances. He languidly kisses me back, taking his time, tongue slowly reaching out for entrance into my mouth. I open up for him and deepen the kiss; he tastes like the sweetest dessert.
I so badly want to invite him in but I don’t. It’s too soon. I need to take things slow, feel them out first. I already feel like we’re rushing things, but I don’t have much dating experience to go off. We’ve known each other for nearly a month now andthat’s enough time for our first date to feel appropriate. Still though, I’m not ready to take things any farther than this.
I’m pulled out of my thoughts when his hand roams up my stomach. He cups a breast in his hand and squeezes gently, my nipples hardening beneath my bra at the contact. I moan into his mouth and claw my fingers into the door behind me, wishing I could dig my nails deep enough to keep me anchored in this moment all night, drowning in the taste of him, forgetting anything else. I could act like a normal, baggage free girl and pretend just for the night that I could let him get close, but that isn’t my reality. I’d wake up in the morning sad that it was built on a lie. So, I gently push him off.
He steps back as I say, “Goodnight, Xander, thank you for dinner.”
I step into my apartment, shutting the door and him out—the only thing I know how to do.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
XANDER
She pushedme away and while I was expecting it—I’m still pissed. She was intoxicating me all night with her silky voice and lush lips. I could stare at her forever, and I could kiss her for the rest of my life. But she shut me out. Against my usual desires when it comes to women, I actually wanted to stay there with her. I obviously would have been more than okay with fucking her if she let me, but she could have at least let our kiss drag itself out a little longer.
I feel like I was teased and now I’m even more bothered by her than before. These simple and seemingly innocent interactions are far from enough for me. I don’t just want more, Ineedit. I need all of her. She’s driving me fucking crazy and that’s saying something because I know I’m naturally a little crazed to begin with. She tastes like honey and she feels like bliss. I wanted to strip her down right there in the hallway, uncaring who could pass by. She makes me lose all rational thought whenever she’s around me. The cold and calculated killer becomes dumbstruck for once, and there isn’t a damn thing I want to do about it.
She knows I’ve been watching her though, and that’s less than ideal. I thought I was being careful enough, but obviously not. I’m being too bold, too forward in my pursuit of her. Despite all of this, it didn’t seem to phase her. If it did, there’s no way she would have still gone to dinner with me. I’m also glad that she willingly divulged personal info, not that there was much I didn't already know. The only thing I’m still mostly in the dark about is her family. I know she only has her mother, but she doesn’t like to talk about her and I want to know why. Is her mother the one who shaped her into the paranoid and slightly flighty woman she is today? She can act so bold sometimes, but I know it’s just a mask to keep people from prying below the surface, a mask I’m well acquainted with. I want to peel it off her and see what’s underneath.
I think back at how it felt to have her pressed against the wall, her body soft and pliable under mine. The feel of her softness in my hands, how perfect and fuckingrightshe is. How badly I wanted to take off her top and take her nipples into my mouth as I grasped her breasts. How her tongue worked mine. In a few short weeks, she has occupied nearly all of my waking thoughts and it’s only going to get worse. I can’t quell the attraction, and I surely can’t tame the obsession. The only thing I can do is make her mine. I won’t rest until then—I can’t.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MAEREN
My mind was reelingonce Xander left. I didn't want the night to end, but deep in my rational brain, I knew I shouldn't let him in, literally and metaphorically speaking. He seems like bad news, probably due to the broody persona he carries, and yet, he is magnetizing. I’m finding myself completely unable to stop the draw to him. Letting my better senses win, I settled on a text to say thank you for dinner once again. We had a short conversation afterwards which I ended by saying I was going to bed. He texted me one last time to tell me,“Goodnight, Wildflower,”and I envisioned him whispering it right into my ear as if he were laying next to me.
My tumultuous feelings are giving me whiplash and I can hear my mother’s words telling me this won’t work out, that I’m not good enough. I let them sink into my thoughts until they feel like reality and know I’m probably setting myself up for heartbreak.
As I’m leaving work the following day, there’s a flower on my car. I smile before tucking it away in my bag. The rest of the week passes uneventfully and I still haven’t heard from Xander again. I have little time to dwell on why that is though—it’s timefor dinner with mommy dearest. I stop for cheap wine on my way over because if one thing is going to help me through the next couple of hours—it’s alcohol. It also helps that my mother has some alcohol dependency, and showing up with a fresh bottle will get me on her good side for at least five minutes. This probably makes me somewhat of an enabler, but it’s easier this way and gives me a fifty-fifty chance of making it through this meal semi unscathed.
When I pull up to her quaint suburban home, I notice a fairly nice pickup truck sitting in the driveway next to her car. Great, she must have company and neglected to mention it. Likely on purpose so I couldn’t find an excuse to back out of this stupid dinner altogether. I hate dinners alone with her but dinners with guests are even worse, if you can imagine it. Having a witness to our inevitable fighting is one of the most mortifying experiences life can possibly curse me with.
Grabbing the two bottles off the passenger seat, I slam my car door and stuff down the rest of my annoyance as I walk up the driveway to the yellow front door and knock. The bright paint color adorning the door is far happier than the woman who lives behind it. I hear laughing inside and a minute later the door opens, my mother’s smile falling off her face as if it were never there at all. I stand there awkwardly as she critically scans me from head to toe with cold and assessing eyes.
“Maeren, come in,” she says callously as she steps aside for me to enter. The smell of lasagna fills my nose as I walk past her and hear shuffling in the kitchen.
“Who else is here?” I question, wanting to get the introductions over with.
“Oh! Haha, silly me, I forgot to mention that Simon would be here! Honey, come on out and meet my daughter, Maeren.”
