Free Gilded Lily by Pauline Allan Page A

floor, beside the couch. Needless to say, she’d trip over the shoes by the door and toss the old pizza boxes in the trash in order to have a place to sit down.
    Now the room was spotless. Neat stacks of art magazines were sitting on the coffee table, and crates of Nicholas’s record collection were sitting against the wall.
    Lily startled when she turned to find Adam standing behind her. He looked rugged, masculine in a snug dark blue T-shirt that stretched across the vast planes of his broad chest. Nicholas hadn’t been near Adam’s size, but he’d carried a familiar shape like his big brother—muscular arms, tight waist, long legs. Lily blushed. Would his cock be as thick as Nicholas’s? She took the glass from his hand, taking a sizable drink of the sweet red liquid.
    “Nick said you liked sangria.” His grin was wicked. “I can see he wasn’t kidding.”
    “Um, yes.” Did he have to stand so close? One sniff of his woodsy cologne made her pussy contract. Underneath the spicy aroma she could smell the crisp scent of soap. She took a step back. “I like the sweet taste more than a wine.”
    “I hope you’re hungry.”
    Lily pulled at the edges of her sweater. “I am. It smells so good.”
    He pressed his hand to his chest, pretending to be offended. “I told you I could cook.”
    “Well,” she said as she walked by the counter to snoop at what he’d made, “I’m impressed.”
    They sat down at the table. Hiding a smile, Lily tipped the glass to her lips. He’d picked a bundle of wildflowers she recognized from near the pond. The pretty blues and yellows were a stark contrast in the white vase sitting in the center of the small, round table.
    God, she hoped Tony would like him. As nervous as Adam made her, the intriguing mystery of the man made her want to know more, and she was going to need Tony’s support to make that happen.
    Then she remembered the sound of his gasp when he’d seen her welts. Adam could never be interested in a woman like her. You’re crazy, she remembered Keith saying after she told him about the belts she kept hidden on her side of the closet. What kind of man would play this game of yours? A sick, sadistic son of a bitch. He’d often reminded her that no man would want her once he found out how depraved she was.
    She took a sip of wine, trying to squelch the nauseated sensation. No, Adam wasn’t a sick, sadistic son of a bitch. He had kind eyes and a beautifully scarred hand that held a story of his tormented past. No, he wouldn’t be the kind of man who would play her game.
    The meal was perfect. Adam was right. He was a great cook. He was even kind enough to eat a slice of the cherry cobbler she’d brought and comment how great it tasted. Lily sat up a bit straighter. She loved to cook for someone, but somehow the compliment coming from him felt like a warm hug to her heart. They shared stories about Nicholas. She told Adam about the time they went skinny-dipping in the pond and the two students she’d hired to take care of the lawn had found them. Adam shared the experience of when he taught Nicholas how to drive a manual shift. Their laughter carried throughout the stable house.
    She looked around the room. Nicholas was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. He should’ve been lounging on the worn couch, feet propped up on the arm, with a cigarette dangling from his lips. But he wasn’t there. He was buried in a huge cemetery in New York City. The booming sound of his laughter had faded with the beautiful presence that once lived in this very room.
    “So, do you want to see the paintings Nick was working on?” Adam’s voice brought Lily’s thoughts out of their dark haze.
    Lily dabbed at her mouth with the napkin. “I’d love to see them.” The thought of seeing Nicholas’s artwork brought a glow to her heart. She missed her friend and ached to be near him again. In some way maybe this could bring her closer to him.
    “Come on.” Adam stood up and