13 - Night Cap

“That… was amazin’,” Lilah sighed, embarrassed that she’d eaten the entire piece of sinful cheesecake. 

“It sounded like it.”

With a quizzical glance at Tony, she asked, “Sounded like it?”

He peered down into the empty highball glass, smiling at the stack of slowly melting ice cubes.  “Yeah.  You were making sex noises while you ate it.  Your whole dinner actually.  You always do that?”

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.”  Lilah closed her eyes, willing the indignity away.  It wasn’t something she did all the time, nor did she do it intentionally.  When it happened, she typically wasn’t even aware of it. 

“Nope.  Not kidding.”

Of course he wasn’t.  Her body may not show it now, but a fat chick still lived inside of her, and the girl loved her food.  Clearly, Lilah was going to have to keep a tighter lid on her Petunia Pig alter-ego. 

“No, I don’t do it all the time,” she finally sighed, pushing the empty dessert plate away in disgust.  “Just when somethin’ tastes really good.”

“In that case, I’m glad you liked your dinner.”

“Can I get you anything else?”

There was a God who watched out over fools and children, because the lovely Tori arrived, seamlessly interjecting herself into Lilah’s mortification.  Hopefully that blatant display of cleavage looming over the table would provide Tony with sufficient distraction from the abominable 'sex noises'.

“Lilah?”

“Just the check please.”

“But o’course," came the perky agreement, the accompanying smile aimed directly at the handsome Mr. Bongiovi.  One more reason for Lilah to want to throw up.  "Will that be on one tab or two?”

“Two,” she requested at the same time Tony said, “One.” 

She’d accepted his invitation with every intention of paying for her own dinner.  Now that he’d been subjected to her food crooning, there was no way she was backing down on that.

Lilah firmly reiterated, “Two, please.”

Tori ignored her and waited for Tony to issue the final mandate.  Feeling peevish at the blatant rebuff, Lilah almost wiped her spoon clean and offered it to the waitress.  If she was going to eat the man up, she might as well have the proper tools, right?

It was probably for the best that she didn't find the nerve to do it before Tony chose to put them all out of their misery.  He didn't drag out the argument any longer, offering a smile and nod of acquiescence to Tori.  “Two is fine.”

Biting back the urge to stick her out tongue in a silent 'take that', Lilah quickly found that any sense of victory was to be short-lived.  As soon as the girl had gotten out of earshot,  Tony firmly reclaimed his original stance.  “I’ll pay ‘em both.”

“Tony, you don’t have to do that.”

“But I asked you to dinner, so I am doing it.”

“I can pay for my own meal,” she stubbornly insisted, to which he lowered his eyebrows in a perturbed scowl.

“Lilah, I don’t give a good goddamn if you can pay for every meal in here.  You’re not paying for yours.  Now let it go.”

A shiver stole up her spine.  His resolve would be intimidating in the right situation, but, in this case, she found it quite flattering.  She had been out with very few men who wouldn’t take advantage of her offer to save themselves a little money.

It’s another sign.  He’s different.

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure.”

Tori arrived with the checks and Tony immediately brought out his wallet and credit card.  With another flirtatious smile, she accepted it and sashayed away with a flounce of her little barmaid skirt.   

“Thank you,” Lilah murmured, wondering how the hell she was sitting here with this man, when he could clearly be out with any number of women.  Women like the young and beautiful Tori who didn’t have either the physical or emotional scarring that she did.

Not for the first time, she experienced a moment’s insecurity over why she was here  If she couldn’t get through a single evening without curling into her shell, she wondered how she was ever going to feel comfortable with him. 

Oh fuck a duck, already!  You felt comfortable in his ‘enchanted forest’ today, so stop being a whiny ass!

“Welcome.   You ready to head back to the hotel?”

The time had come for the Harley coach from this fairytale day to turn itself back into a pumpkin taxi.  Lilah had no complaints.  It had been a lovely time at the ball.

“I’m ready whenever you are.”

✧✧✧

The trip back to the hotel was nice.  Not at all awkward like she thought it would be after the debate over who was paying for dinner.  Tony pointed out the taxi window at a few sights he was familiar with and asked if she’d ever been to Ireland or Europe before.  She told him that most of her travel had been done in the United States.  Back and forth they went until, much to her surprise, the twenty minute cab ride had flown by and, with it, much of the lingering worry about being able to relax with him.

The man was soooo easy going!  His laid-back sociability made him insanely easy to talk to when she wasn’t having a retarded hyena moment.  There was something about him that was… a little... mesmerizing?  It baffled her as to why he didn't have a horde of women following him around.

She smiled her thanks as he held the hotel lobby door for her.

And he’s got manners. Where is his fatal flaw that keeps him single?

“Are you ready for bed?”

I'm sorry.  Say again?

Astonishment had her eyes flying wide and throwing him a look of incredulity.  That couldn’t possibly mean what it sounded like it meant.

“Obviously not the best choice of words,” he chuckled, coming to a standstill at the entrance of the hotel bar and pushing his hands in his pockets.  “I’m gonna grab a drink in the bar.  If you're not tired, you’re welcome to join me if ya want.”

She chose to ignore that he’d already had at least four drinks.  He was in his own hotel and wouldn’t be driving anywhere.  If he wanted another drink, who was she to judge?  And if he wanted her to join him...

Why not? 

“Sure.  Maybe they’ll have a cute l’il umbrella drink I like.”

Two hours later, she had accumulated enough umbrellas for a miniature beach.  Lilah actually only drank about three Bahama Mamas, but Tony asked the bartender to stick extra ones in each drink.  The aftermath easily netted her half a dozen of the multi-colored paper parasols.  Oh, and a slight tropical buzz, definitively ensuring that it was easily one of the most enjoyable nights she’d spent in ages. 

He wasn’t defensive or secretive when she asked him about his music preferences, and she was pleased to find out that they shared similar taste in Coldplay, Matchbox Twenty and Train.  Her adamant assurance that Andrew's buddy sounded just like Pat Monahan had him laughing.

He was also open and forthcoming when she wanted to know what initially drew him into photography.  Lilah could even agree with his rationale that it was surest way to not be the subject of the pictures.

They exchanged stories about their work, with Lilah revealing some of the more humorous ones from her tech-challenged students, while he told her about the crazier musicians.  She still couldn’t get over the Slayer documentary. 

“It was kinda like a test for myself.  No, I’m not a metal head, but now I know I can separate myself from the music and do good video for pretty much anybody,” he explained, and she had the fleeting thought that maybe his fair dose of whiskey might be making him more talkative than usual.

She nodded her understanding while trying to unsuccessfully to swallow a yawn.

“Am I boring ya, Bluegrass?”

Rolling her eyes toward the ceiling, she apologized.  “Sorry, Jersey.  The alcohol is making me sleepy.  I guess it’s time for me to turn in.”

He grinned at the nickname and  immediately reached into his pocket for a couple of bills to toss out as a tip for the bartender.  There had been only minimal quibbling over the drinks when they first arrived.  He agreed to let her pay for her own, but staunchly refused to let her buy his, saying that his macho pride wouldn’t tolerate it, and she respectfully accepted that. 

Standing, he gestured toward the door with his head.  “C’mon, I’ll walk you up.  What’s your room number?”

“Five twenty-seven.”

She didn’t understand his laughter until Tony explained,  “I’m in five twenty-three.  Two doors down from you, I guess.”

“Well, at least you know the way.”

“True ‘dat.”

He gestured for her to lead the way to the elevator, appreciating the gentle sway of her hips as she walked in front of him.  His demeanor had softened a lot toward Ms. Bennett today – particularly in the last couple of hours.  She lost a good deal of her timidity after a drink or two, and let her real personality shine through. 

The stories about the tech students had been funny, but what had been even more entertaining were her one-line smartass comments in response to whatever he was saying.  The unexpected sarcasm caught him off-guard a couple of times, making him laugh out loud. 

Lilah Bennett was fun to hang out with, he thought as the elevator doors parted on the fifth floor.

Their doors were at the far end of the corridor and both were quiet on the journey, in deference to the late hour and other guests.  Upon arriving at five twenty-seven, Lilah stepped up to the door, then turned so that it was at her back and tipped her chin up with a sleepy smile.

“This is me.”

“So it is.  I’ll just say goodnight and let you get some sleep then.”

Without even thinking, he leaned in to dust her mouth with a simple kiss, much like he’d given to a hundred other casual female acquaintances.  Unlike those hundred other females, as soon as their lips touched, Lilah mewled out one of those damn-sexy food purrs.  This particular instance of that tiny noise packed a bigger punch than her extended appreciation of the Bailey’s cheesecake.

“Does that mean I taste really good?” he asked, withdrawing half a step.  They weren’t touching - not even standing all that close, really - but he thought he could taste her breath as he peered from beneath hooded lids. 

Her milk chocolate hair faintly swished in denial.  “It... means you felt good.  I didn’t really get an actual taste.”

She wasn't the only one who didn't get a good taste and, before he could over-analyze it, Tony decided that he wanted one.  And that he would have it.

Tony planted a beefy palm against the door's surface, a scant inch to the right of her head, and leaned in close.  He could feel the fine Irish whiskey swimming like fire through his veins with each beat of his heart, and it acted like his favorite camera filter, softly smudging out all the useless noise and leaving only her face in sharp focus.

"Lemme fix that for ya,” he offered quietly, before slanting his mouth over hers.

Her lips immediately parted on a whisper-soft sigh, and he used the opportunity to claim swift possession of the sweetness that lie inside.  One of those erotic purrs fired up and gradually swelled from the back of her throat, ultimately vibrating against his teeth.  He could taste the combination of sugary fruit juice and rum swirled through with the faintest hints of cheesecake and whiskey.

Fuck she tastes sweet.

When she timidly pushed her tongue into his mouth and melted against him, Tony went stiff as a board behind his zipper.  Blatant desire had him curving hard fingers over her hip and filling her mouth with his tongue.  He took his time, thoroughly exploring every dark, wet crevice while her increasingly frantic fingers plundered in his hair.

The woman kissed like a damn angel. It was so fucking sensual that he found himself pinning her to the door with his hips, rocking into her softness.  His groan of appreciation now overrode hers as the predominant sound ringing in his ears. 

She tasted good.  She felt good.  She made him feel good.  His alcohol-blurred thoughts encouraged him to take her.

“What does she want with you?”

“She wants backstage at my fucking show.”

“God only knows what she’s after.”

Fuck Jon and Dorothea’s voices rudely interrupting his horny haze with a high-octane dose of reality. 

He couldn’t do this.  Not now.  Maybe not ever.

“Lilah,” he breathed, his resolve almost shattered by her cloudy gaze.  The blue-green irises were unfocused and shining like glass, but he blinked away their Bambi-esque effect, putting a cork in his rampant desire.  “This isn’t a good idea.”

“Oh.”  Slowly allowing her hands to fall away, she pushed her shoulder blades flat against the door to create some space between them.  At the willing retreat, Tony eased away, his footstep silent against the carpet runner.  “Yeah, it’s probably not.  I’m sorry.”

The embarrassed flush that mottled her neck annoyed him.  “Why are you apologizing?  I’m the one who kissed you, and I’m not a damn bit sorry.”

After blinking her lashes rapidly several times, she seemed to gather some kind of inner composure and nodded once.  “Good.  Because I’m not either.  Not really.  You do taste good, by the way.”

Christ, when she flipped that switch to go from meek and mild to confident, a light went on inside her.  Did she know how that hint of swagger intensified her sex appeal?

He knew the answer to that without asking.  No.  She had no idea.  He didn’t know what her deal was, but she didn’t carry herself like a woman who wanted to attract that kind of attention. 

“So do you, Bahama Mama.” 

It was so tempting to steal another taste, but if he didn’t walk away now, he might not walk away at all.  And, regardless of her heated stance against marriage, Lilah wasn’t the type for a casual screw.  He couldn’t resist a quick brush of his fingertips against her cheek though.  The skin there was satiny soft.

“Call me when you get to Istanbul and we’ll work out the details of the show.”  He had exchanged cell numbers with her earlier, in the bar.  Their time together had eased his worry over giving up that personal information.  She wasn’t crazy, and she wouldn’t sell it to the highest bidder. 

The pink tip of her tongue came out and moistened her still-damp lips, commanding his gaze even as she nodded.  “Okay.  I’ll be there the day before.”

It was his turn to nod.  Good.  They were back to business.  “Sounds like a plan.  Good night, Lilah Bennett.”

Then, before he realized what she was doing, Lilah popped up on her tip-toes and pulled his face to hers for another sweet, searing kiss that stole his breath.  Tony was ready to haul her into his arms and devour every last granule of sugar in that sweet mouth - Jon and Dorothea be damned - when she slipped out of his grasp as easily as she had stepped in.

“G’night, Anthony Bongiovi,” she uttered softly.  “I had a good time today.  Thank you.”

He looked mutely on as she pulled the key card out of her back pocket and slipped it in the slot.  When the lock released and the door swung inward, Lilah stepped over the threshold and turned to offer him a tentative smile.

Then, in one of his least profound moments ever, he mumbled,  “Yeah, no problem.  See ya next week.”

Sometimes he wondered if he was a fucking idiot.