Don't Go

Lila

He stood in the massive doorway of his Penthouse in a pair of perfect gray athletic pants that looked softer than her pillow, and a cream colored sweater that hung off his shoulders like it had been knitted for him, while the high neck flipped up to brush his nape at the back. He'd pushed the sleeves up his forearms. His hair was mussed, falling across his eyes.

His feet were bare.

And huge.

Lila's mouth was open. She needed to close it. But he was…beautiful.

"Delilah?" he said. "Are you okay?" Something about his voice sounded a little off—a little too bright, but she didn't have the braincells left to figure it out.

He was gorgeous. She swallowed. Hard.

"Delilah?" He sounded worried now. She definitely needed to speak. Speak, dammit!

"You're barefoot," she blurted.

He looked down at this feet, then one side of his mouth slid up in a half smile and Lila would have sworn her heart was going to pound out of her chest. "I am!" he said happily.

Okay, something was definitely wrong.

"Did you want to come in?" He stepped back, opening the door wide and throwing an arm out towards the inside of his Penthouse. "Come in! Wait, how did you get up here?"

"Oh, the staff let me through." She turned and waved awkwardly at the security guard in the reception area. She hadn't realized when she came up here that he had an entire front desk just for his apartment. That had been an awkward moment in her pajamas.

Dane frowned at the security guard—who quickly stopped smiling and turned back to face the elevator—then beckoned Lila inside, still shooting glaring looks at the man in the reception.

She walked carefully into the entryway, scanning the open plan of the Penthouse with wide eyes. The floor was black marble here, the walls a mix of rich burgundy red, and white. There was leather and gold accents everywhere. It was understated and even more beautiful than the office, and Lila found herself suddenly even more nervous.

She stood there in her pajamas and a wool throw rug. She wasn't wearing a bra. Tucking the ends of the blanket around her arms more tightly, she gave him a tight smile. "I'm glad you're still up."

"Yep, still up," he said and even though his voice was low, there was that brightness to it. She couldn't quite figure out—

"Did you want a glass of wine? I have some."

Ah, that explained the slightly goofy smile that kept breaking on his face. He started for the kitchen, but she blurted, "No!" and grabbed for his arm—her hand landing on the bare skin of his forearm and she yanked it back when he looked at it and frowned. But he stopped walking.

"You don't want a drink?" He asked.

"No, I have to work in the morning," she said quickly.

He scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah…"

Looking past him into the incredible kitchen, she could see two empty wine bottles on the counter, one on its side.

Oh dear. This wasn't going to work. She was wrong to have come. "I'm really sorry I bothered you so late, Dane," she said hurriedly. "you're obviously taking some time off and I shouldn't have intruded."

"Don't be silly. I texted!"

"Yes, you did." She didn't tell him she'd already been in the elevator when it arrived on her phone.

"Come in. Let's talk. I owe you an apology. I was an ass today."

She blinked. Had he just apologized? But he was drunk, did it even count? She sighed. "No, Dane, really. We can talk to tomorrow."

"Don't be like that, it's late. Let's relax." He tugged at her sleeve to usher her towards the living room, but she only took one step.

"No, really. I'm sorry. This isn't the time. I shouldn't have—"

"Delilah, I'm glad you came. Have a coffee!"

"Dane—"

"I'm serious."

"Me too, this is the wrong time."

"It's really not! I texted you remember!"

"Yes, but—"

"Come, sit!" his tone was beginning to darken and Lila cursed herself for coming up there.

"No, I'll go." She started towards the door. "I'll talk to you in the morning."

"But—"

"Dane, I'm sorry, please—"

"Delilah, I'm glad you're here—" he took her arm and her skin tingled where he touched and that just wasn't okay.

She stopped and whirled on him, her eyes squeezed shut as she blurted, "I know you are, but you're also drunk, so I can't have this conversation with you!" she snapped, then clapped her hands over her mouth.

Dane stared at her for a second, like she'd slapped him. In the awkward silence, he looked away, at the windows, then back. "Actually, I'm not drunk. Not anymore," he admitted. His voice was almost normal.

"I'm so sorry," Lila breathed. "I-I know it was a rough day. I wanted to make sure you were okay. And I was angry…this isn't the time. I keep making these stupid decisions around you. I promise you, this isn't me. I just…it doesn't matter. I'm sorry I disturbed your night. I'll go and next time I won't come uninvited." She patted his arm. "Thank you for not being angry that I came."

He stared at where she touched him, but she turned away, shaking her head at herself and her own stupidity. What was it about this man that scattered her head?

"Delilah?"

"Yes," she said without looking back, she was almost at the door.

"I don't want you to leave."

She froze in place.

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