The Billionaire's Hidden Heir

#22 - Tethered

Adrian

"Of course, I do, Forest Lily," I breathed out, stepping into her. Needing her to know that I wanted to do more than opening a door for her, I reached for her hand and drew her close. I couldn't believe it when she let me, her hand incredibly soft in mine. It reminded me of the first time we met. This time, however, she had on an unfamiliar scent that filled my car and made it practically impossible to focus on anything but her. It remained her, though. Something earthy with natural notes that were reminiscent of the forest she loved. What was that? Violet? I inhaled, greedily, the scent filling me with a sense of calm and connection to her world...to her. Tethered to her presence in a way that felt both grounding and intoxicating.

Backing away would have been the most sensible thing to do, but I was feeling anything but sensible right now... tonight. Make that the entire day. And now that I had her so close, finally, I couldn't keep myself from wanting more. Just like all those nights during our marriage when I convinced myself that I was only doing my duty to the Frost name, I gave in. To the desire for my wife. Ex-wife. My mind fired back. I shook the thought away, not caring about titles at the moment as my head dipped, anticipation of finally tasting her after so long filling every inch of me. A silhouette of beauty against the backdrop of all those fairy lights, she sent my heart fluttering too when she leaned into my touch, giving me a glimpse of the trust we once shared. Could this moment get any better?

"Adrian..." Her trembling voice put a million stops to all the raging desire, forcing me to look at her. She didn't move, which I was grateful for, but everything else about her screamed heartbreak.

"Lily?" I panicked, cursing myself for pushing this.

"You don't deserve to call me that." She mumbled, halting my world. I stared, the rawness of her words making me realize this had nothing to do with my stupid decision to kiss her. It still remained something I had done, though. Not tonight, but that night.

Without the raging anger I'd held on to like a lifeline five years ago, I stood there, truly experiencing the depth of her hurt. It was not only in the words, or how she'd said them, but in everything about her. The girl I should have seen. Guilt flooded in, hammering at every false belief I'd held against her since the day she upended her signature on our marriage certificate. All of them except that one thing. Those images of her throwing her head back as she let that bastard pleasure in ways I felt I hadn't as her husband. The damn things had their claws in so deep not even the depth of her hurt that was tugging at the chords of my heart could dislodge them. I held her closer. The only thing I could do to keep myself from drowning or giving in to the prickling rage simmering under the surface of my skin over the pain of our shared past.

"We should go in," she said, pulling away.

I wanted to keep holding on, but I let her go, studying her as I stepped back. Admiring the hell out of her. From the girl who'd simply run out of the Mirage, tears streaming down her face after demanding for a divorce, displaying her defeat that had only brought me a fleeting satisfaction that day, this Lily was truly different—stronger, in a way that went beyond the sweetness she let people see about her. And damn was that intoxicating and irresistible. Something I wanted to savor when I finally got a chance to taste it. And that would not be tonight, I decided, even though I had gone all out to make this dinner memorable. Even though I desperately longed to bridge the distance between us, I knew some things could not be rushed. So I put a lid on everything and bowed before her, falling in the character I should have been portraying tonight.

When she arched an eyebrow at me, I repeated the history lesson Cassandra, the owner of Radiant Bean Coffeehouse and our host tonight had given me. She called the experience she promised me tonight at the Grand Hall, 'rediscovering Radiant Springs by rediscovering its culture'. A plan she'd come up with when talk of saving Radiant Springs was in the works. She'd chosen to save the Grand Hall, a long forgotten social space that would transport future patrons to the years of its past grandeur once they stepped through its doors. Although I wasn't oblivious to the fact that Cassandra hoped me and Lily would rediscover more than the little town's rich culture while we dined tonight.

"According to hundreds of years of tradition, you are only considered a gentleman if and when you act accordingly." I concluded, staring at Lily's confused expression. "That includes making sure that your gorgeous legs don't suffer any hurt while you disembark from your coach."

Lily's gaze darted to her legs that I imagined were killer under that dress, then to my car and back to my face, understanding of what was really going on registering. "This is not a coach and that sounds like a stupid rule to base such a judgement on," she argued, giving me a taste of our long-forgotten banter I was determined to experience again. "And jerks could easily fake being gentlemen by simply 'acting' accordingly. And broken legs are better than broken hearts."

Ouch! Her words pricked at that guilt, but I waved it away, focusing on her. "But it is, my lady," I offered her my hand again with a grin. She took it reluctantly. I wasn't complaining. Having her this close again, even if it wasn't real was everything. "A modern version, if you will." I added. "And jerks can actually learn to be gentlemen for those they find worth their effort," I finished with a wink, hoping to lighten the mood. It did the exact opposite with Lily tensing beside me.