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He gave in without a fight this time, leaning in and finding my lips with his. I breathed him in, dragging my fingers through his hair as he groaned into my mouth. What I really wanted him to do was take me home and let me crawl into his lap and stay there for the rest of the day.
Being with Lucian was like soaring the unknown tracks of a roller coaster at high speed for the first time. My body jolting and my stomach lurching and the wind whipping my face as I screamed. I felt that way every time he looked at me now, and I wondered if for even a second, he did too.
“Gypsy,” he whispered against my lips, pulling away just far enough to meet my eyes. “I want you to know that I’m proud of you. What you did today was a good thing.”
I swallowed and offered him a smile, but inside, I felt like I wanted to cry.
“DO YOU LIKE IT?”
Gypsy stood in front of a display of black lace embellished bras, her eyes cutting over the patterns like razors.
“This is weird,” she said finally.
Her gaze darted around the store, taking inventory of the watchful observers around us. I knew she was anxious, but I was still trying to narrow down why. It wasn’t until another woman tapped me on the arm and showboated her pearly white teeth that the mystery started to unravel.
“Excuse me?” The interloper held up two different bras in her hands. “I was wondering if you had these in my size, 34D?”
I stared at her incredulously, but my response wasn’t necessary. Gypsy took it upon herself to answer.
“Do you seriously think you’re fooling anyone with that, sweetheart? He doesn’t work here, so get lost.”
The woman stomped off, and Gypsy edged closer, irritation brewing in her eyes. She was marking her territory, being me, and I was just coming to understand what was happening. We were in a store full of women. And some of those women had decided they had an appreciation for me, judging by the sly smiles they tossed my way as I looked around the room.
I knew that Gypsy would find it difficult to believe, but I rarely noticed such things. I had suppressed my sexuality for so long that the lustful gazes of complete strangers weren’t even on my radar.
For seventeen years, there wasn’t a woman on this earth who could make me succumb to her temptations. At least, not until her. And now I had a decision to make. One that could teach Gypsy a lesson, or one that could make her feel secure. The latter option was wrong, given that I wasn’t here to comfort her. If she grew accustomed to my comforts, then it would only prove to hurt her more in the end.
I wanted more than anything for her to be strong enough to stand on her own. To see that she was smart and capable of living a life she deserved. But I also wanted to hold her and tell her that it was okay. That I was hers.
And it was all wrong.
I pulled her against me and whispered in her ear. “Those women don’t mean anything to me, pet. You have nothing to worry about.”
“Right.” She buried her head against my chest, obscuring her eyes as I petted her hair. “Because I don’t mean anything to you either.”
My hand froze, and unjustified irritation bubbled up inside me at her accusation. Of course, she had every right to say it because it’s exactly what I’d been telling her from the beginning. But when she said it, I wanted to tell her how wrong she was. Already, I’d shown too much weakness as far as she was concerned. I was breaking every rule I’d set and doing everything I promised myself I wouldn’t, so I stayed silent.
It was a coward’s move, yet also, the right move. It might hurt now, but in the end, I hoped she would see I was doing what was best for her.
The car ride home was a quiet one, and even though I’d convinced her to buy some clothes, she’d still have a lot of shopping to do on her own.
I was surprised she didn’t complain when I took her to regular department stores where the price tags were generally under fifty dollars per piece. It wasn’t about the money; it was about the materialistic spell she’d been under for so long. But it seemed that somewhere between the darkness of last night and the dawn of today, that spell had broken.
She picked out the pieces herself. Things I didn’t necessarily expect. They weren’t as tight or form fitting as her old clothes. They weren’t meant to display her body and drive men mad. They were items with purpose and comfort. Tee shirts, jeans, shorts. A few summer dresses and a single pair of flip-flops. After a brief argument over who would pay, I slipped the sales woman my card and won the battle.
