“What about you?”

“Me?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

“I know you have more . . . experience than me. Are you clean?”

The curious expression switches to one of irritation. He assumed I was irresponsible; it’s only fair for me to do the same. “I always use a condom. I’m not stupid.”

I nod, feeling the reminder of our sex sliding down my inner thigh. This is crazy. Why do I keep doing this when it leaves me with so much regret?

Blake comes to stand in front of me in all his naked glory. His eyes search mine, and he sees it—the torment he’s caused within me.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t inherit the sensitivity gene.”

“The pretend-to-care one would have been nice,” I chide, folding my arms in front of my chest.

“Lila.” He cradles my face in his hands. “I care, and I’m going to find a way to make this up to you. Do you want me to run you a bath?” He leans in to kiss my lips tenderly—a peck for each corner, then ending in the center.

As soon as he lets go of me, I start walking backward. “I think I’m just going to go to bed. Besides, it’s going to be hard to top the lemon drop.”

He laughs, real and throaty. “I already have that covered.”

“We’ll see.”

He reaches out, running the back of his fingers along my jaw and down my neck. “I meant what I said earlier . . . why I call you Lemon Drop. This is all I can give you, and I hope it’s enough for now because I don’t want to lose this. I swear you’re the only thing I look forward to these days.”

I lean into his hand, buying myself time to form a response that won’t give away what I’m really feeling. He’s not equipped for that right now. “I don’t want to lose this either.”

“We need to be smart about this.” I know he’s talking about the condoms, and maybe even my falling heart, so I don’t ask for any more explanation. I don’t want to hear it.

I nod, and without another word, I turn to walk back to my room. The lemon drop was the most sensually sweet thing I’ve ever experienced, and he just ruined it. Realizing the tart remnants of the candy are still in my mouth, I roll it against my tongue. Still tart. When I stop and think about it, the tartness lasts longer than the sweet coating. Sex for us is the sweet coating, and everything else that comes with it, or doesn’t come with it, is the unwanted tart center.

That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop eating them.

“DO YOU HAVE PLANS FOR TONIGHT?” Reece asks, coming around the corner to my cubicle.

The sight of her makes me smile. She’s dressed in a white camisole with little black eye glass graphics plastered all over it. It’s a little cute and a lot quirky—reminds me of her whimsical personality.

I shake my head to wake myself up, remembering how much it aches from only sleeping three hours last night. My shift at Charlie’s ran late, and then I had to come into the office. I’m dreading having to shift from here back to waitressing in just a few hours. At least it’s Friday. “I have to work.”

“That sucks. What about tomorrow night?”

She’s pretty anxious for a girl who got shit-faced three nights ago. She was a zombie the next day—going through the motions and not noticing anything else that was going on around her. Yet, the way her eyes light when she asks makes me feel bad about having to turn her down. Her question also reminds me of my impending evening with Pierce Stanley. I still haven’t said a word about it to Blake; things have been so . . . different between us.

Wednesday night he greeted me at the door after work and made me come hard against the wall. Then he fed me a pasta dish he’d made, and got me naked again in his bed. It ended like it always does. Every time, it hurts a little more, because every time, I fall further into him. Maybe, if I sink far enough, I’ll be in his heart, and he’ll feel the same.

He fulfills my physical needs and unravels my emotional ones. I have to be willing to let him go. If he can’t give me what I ultimately want—what I’ve always wanted—then I need to cut the strings and move on. It’s so much easier to sit here and think about how I’m going to do it than it is to actually do it.

He wasn’t home last night, and that’s the difference between us and a real couple. He didn’t mention anything about being gone. I wonder if there’s someone else . . . if that’s why he’s so secretive about everything. And that’s one thing I don’t think I can do—be one of his many.

Reece snaps her fingers in front of my eyes. “Earth to Lila.”

“Sorry, I’m tired. I have an event tomorrow. I’m free Sunday through Wednesday night, though.” Crossing my fingers beneath my desk, I hope she doesn’t ask anything more about tomorrow. I’m not a good liar.

“What event are you attending tomorrow?”

Shit. “A benefit.”

Her eyes narrow in on me. “For what?”

And secrets crumble. “I’m not sure exactly. It’s for work . . . Stanley invited me.”

“As in Pierce Stanley?”

“Yeah . . . that would be the one,” I answer shyly.

Her mouth falls open. “Oh. My. God.”

I place my finger over my lips, doing my best to quiet her. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Are you freaking kidding me?” she squeals. “It’s Pierce Stanley. That’s a huge deal. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“This is why I didn’t tell you,” I reply, waving between us. “Besides, it’s not a date or anything like that.”

“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Drop it.”

“Fine, but I’m calling you first thing Sunday morning, and I want details.”

I raise an eyebrow, giving her a glassy stare. “There won’t be much to tell. Now, when are we going to do girls’ night?”

“What if we make a standing Tuesday night thing . . . you, me, and Dana?” she exclaims, clapping her hands together.

Smart girl. “I like that. I’ll ask Dana about it tonight at work, but we might want to lay off the alcohol a little bit.”

“Yay. Look, I’ve got to get back to work before Mr. Ryan starts looking for me. I think he’s still reeling from the way I acted Wednesday. Text me later.” As she walks away, I notice the red high heels she wears with her black and white ensemble. I have a whole new respect for that girl.

Before my thoughts drift back to Blake, I look back down at the color board I’ve been working on all day trying to decide what I’m missing. I never go for conventional because that’s not what’s going to set me apart. It’s not what’s going to help me achieve my ultimate goal—to become a top designer with a renowned national firm. I’m in the right place. I have award-winning people around me. The rest is up to me, and this is an opportunity I won’t let pass me by.

The phone rings, startling me a few inches out of my chair. For unimportant people like me, the cubicle phone rarely makes a peep. I bring the phone to my ear, expecting it to be a misdial. “Hello.”

“Ah, Ms. Fields, it’s a pleasure to hear your voice.” No introduction needed—Pierce’s voice is as discernible as a church bell on Sunday.

“How was your trip, Mr. Stanley?” It’s not like I’m going to tell him his voice or anything else about him is of any sort of pleasure to me.

“I believe I told you to call me Pierce.”

“And I believe you just used a title before my name. Besides, don’t you think that’s a little inappropriate?”

“I didn’t realize you had so much fire in you when I offered you the job.” His voice tells of an obvious smile. Even though I’m not with him, I can practically see his dimples and the creases around his eyes when his lips curl.

“Hmm, was my hair color an oversight?”

He chuckles—deep and reverberating. It’s enough to make me sit back in my chair and enjoy the banter-filled ride. “Nothing about you escaped me. Trust me.”

“So, what can I do for you, Pierce?” I keep my voice low enough not to garner any stares or spark the office rumor mill. In five days, I’ve learned that it’s not much different from high school as far as that goes.