Barrett buries his face against my neck as his hips keep pumping. “God, you’re still so fucking tight and soaking wet. I can’t last much longer, but I don’t want to ever stop.”
Wrapping his arms around me so tightly I can barely breathe, Barrett’s thrusts eventually falter, and then his hot, thick release is pulsing inside of me.
His lips find my neck, kissing, licking, sucking on my skin as my lower body keeps grinding on him, chasing my own release.
“Sorry, baby. I couldn’t wait any longer.”
“I’m close,” I tell him as I squeeze my eyes shut. “You’re still so big…stay.”
“Stay inside of you? Hell yes. Keep my cock warm until it’s hard for you again.”
His dick twitches, and that’s what finally sets me off. I erupt, wriggling and whimpering, clenching, and releasing around his shaft.
“Oh, fuck yeah,” Barrett groans. “That’s it, baby. Making me so hard again. Can you take more?”
Blinking my eyes open, I lock eyes with Barrett’s heavy-lidded gaze and nod. “Yes, fuck me. You feel so good.”
His lips slam down on mine, his tongue tangling with mine for a hot second before he pulls out of me.
The next second, he’s spinning me around so my palms and cheek are pressed to the vending machine as he takes me from behind.
He fucks me so hard and powerfully that bags of chips fall from the machine as it rocks back and forth.
I wasn’t even sure if my body was capable of a third orgasm before Barrett reaches around the front of my body. His fingertips find my clit, rubbing it as he slams into me until he sets me off.
With a roar, Barrett slams deep one last time. His sex swells and throbs with his release that goes on and on until we’re both slumping sweaty and spent against the machine, all his weight against me.
I’m still trying to catch my breath, to wrap my head around having all types of amazing sex in the hospital’s snack room, when Barrett kisses my cheek and says, “Come home with me.”
“What?” I ask, certain I misunderstood.
“I want you to come home with me. Stay with me for a few days.”
“Oh.”
“You don’t want to?”
“I, um, I do. It’s just…I have this…”
“Have what?” he asks.
I start to tell him I can stay with him for a few days until I have to leave for the interview in Atlanta, but I decide to hold off in case I change my mind and don’t go.
“Nothing. I would love to stay with you, especially after what happened today. I’m just not sure how my dad will react,” I explain when I turn around to face him.
“I’ve talked to him, and he’s okay with it,” Barrett says, which is surprising.
“How?”
He leans forward to kiss my neck. “I told him I needed to know you’re safe until they find the fucker who did this and that I could keep you hidden until they find and deal with him.”
“But I…I don’t know who he is or what he wants with me. My dad does, though, doesn’t he?”
Barrett nods. “He thinks it’s some asshole your father’s club pissed off.”
“Yeah,” I reply, even though the things the man said to me felt more personal, like he knew me, even though I had no clue who he was or what he wanted.
“You need to come with me, Lyla. Don’t be difficult, my beautiful Lyla.”
He definitely said my name more than once.
“You don’t know me yet. They won’t tell you the truth about me.”
I have no clue what he meant about “they” won’t tell me the truth.
My father?
I wouldn’t be surprised at all that he’s keeping secrets from me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Barrett
Once Lyla and I are dressed again, I notice that she’s practically swaying on her feet.
“You’re exhausted. Let me take you home,” I offer, hoping she hasn’t changed her mind about coming to stay with me.
“Okay. Can I just go check on Thane one more time?”
“Yeah, sure,” I agree. “I’ll be right outside the door in the hallway waiting,” I say as I pull out my cell phone. I need to check in with Isaac before we go and let him know I convinced her to come home with me. I hate having to lie to Lyla. But if it’s for her own good, to keep her safe, and make sure she never finds out the horrible truth, then I guess it’s worth it.
I type out a short text message that says, Lyla wants to stay with me. If you don’t like it tough shit, just in case Lyla were to see the message on my phone.
The only reason she would go snooping through it is if she didn’t trust me, which would be fucked-up, but I would deserve it. Either way, better to cover these tracks.
If anything happens to her, you’re dead is Isaac’s response, which is probably one hundred percent true and not to keep up any appearances.
A moment after Lyla goes into Thane’s room, my brother and Jordan come out.
“I still don’t get what you two are doing here,” I tell them. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” RJ answers immediately. “One of our customers mentioned the shooting. We’re concerned citizens.”
“Bullshit.” Pointing to the room behind them, I say, “That’s the man who kidnapped Jordan, right?”
“Uh, yeah,” RJ answers for the kid, who stares at the ground with his hands shoved in his front jeans’ pockets.
“So, what? Are you two here to try and finish the job?”
“What job?” RJ asks.
“Killing him,” I whisper.
“God, no,” RJ replies. Followed by, “Maybe?” making me have no idea what the truth really is here. I deserve the shadiness, though, since I’m a liar too.
“Look, I get that you hate him for what he did,” I tell the two men. “But you can’t hold a grudge against him. Lyla cares about him, and, ah, she’s coming to stay with us.”
“She’s going to stay with us? You, me, and dad?” RJ asks.
“Yeah, if dad doesn’t have a problem with it. Since he’s never home, I figured he won’t notice or mind. She’ll sleep in my room.”
“Wow. Moving fast yet again,” he says, making me cringe. This is not like what happened with Laurel. I’m not marrying Lyla, just letting her move in and hopefully keep having sex with her as often as possible.
“It’s just temporary. As much as you’re at the shop from the crack of dawn until time to hit the sack, you probably won’t even notice she’s there.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
“Swear to me you won’t lay a finger on Thane from here on out.”
“I won’t touch him,” RJ grumbles.
“Good. If you do anything to upset Lyla, I’ll beat your ass. That goes for both of you,” I say to add Jordan into the threat.
The kid holds up his palms and says, “I wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“You know if you step a toe out of line, all we have to do is tell your mama, and she’ll whoop your ass.”
“No, it’s worse than that,” Jordan replies. “She’ll be disappointed in me. That shit hurts worse than my dad’s fists.”