My traitorous heart squeezes.
He raises the glass to his lips, takes a gulp, swallows, then steps forward to hand it over again. “It’s safe, okay?” He raises a brow, wordlessly asking if his display is enough to gain my trust.
“Thank you.” I take the offering and bring it to my lips. The smooth scotch awakens a slight burn all the way down my throat. I don’t stop drinking until I’ve consumed every last drop.
“You’re welcome. Now, how about that bath?” He takes my hand, gently placing it in his. “You’re still trembling.”
“Did you ever think that maybe I tremble because of you?” I entwine our fingers and squeeze to mask my vulnerability. “You unsettle me.”
The pad of his thumb sweeps across my wrist, back and forth, gently exquisite. “You unsettle me, too. Beyond anything I’ve ever experienced. Why do you think that is?”
I wish I knew.
It’s clear this pull has something to do with the thrill of the unknown, only the more I learn, the more my attraction grows.
“Maybe there doesn’t need to be a reason.” I inch forward, reaching for him, tangling my fingers in his shirt, feeling the hard muscle beneath. “Maybe this is just a phase that hit us both at the same place at the same time.”
“You’re no phase, amore mio. I can guarantee that.”
When he says those things—the endearing luscious words—I fall for them every time. My skin becomes awash with goose bumps. My breathing falters. Now is no different.
“What if that’s all I can offer?” I tug him into me. “What if right now is all there is?”
“You said you don’t do one-night stands.”
“It’s still daylight outside.” I grin, undoing the buttons on my blouse, exposing the lace bra beneath.
“I already told you, once will never be enough. I meant it, Lay.” He presses his forehead to mine, ignoring the skin I’ve put on display. “You need to go take that bath.”
“Why?”
“So I’m forced to leave you alone.”
I close my eyes, drowning in the closeness. In the pure affection that’s entirely new to me. “And if I don’t want to be left alone?”
A gentle groan rumbles in his throat. “Take the bath, Layla.”
I nuzzle my nose against his. “I don’t want to.”
The groan builds, the sound increasing my thrill.
I slide my mouth over his, the connection featherlight. In an instant, he’s all over me, stalking into me until I’m backed into the wall, the glass taken from my hand to be dropped to the carpeted floor with a heavy thud.
He steals my mouth. My decency.
I claw at him, yanking at his shirt, forcing him closer. He responds with a harsh grip of my ass, his fingers digging into my flesh, his groan changing to a growl.
“I need you,” I murmur against his lips. “Now.”
He ignores me, kissing, clutching, parting my knees with his own. I’m so ready for this. Too ready. It’s almost embarrassing.
“Take the bath.” He snakes his tongue over mine. “Walk away because I’m too weak to make the decision for you.”
I can’t. I wish I could. This isn’t in the best interest of either of us. I know this. I know it with every fiber of my being. And still I can’t move.
“Take it, Layla,” he begs. “You’re not ready to sleep with me yet.”
“I’m not?”
His chuckle is faint. “No, amore mio. You’re not.”
My blood runs hot, my pulse pounding at the apex of my thighs. But I believe him. The warning slips through the lust haze to give me a good shake.
“Okay.” I plaster a hand to his chest and force myself to retreat. “I’ll take the bath.”
“Good.” He turns and stalks away, disappearing into what I assume is the bathroom.
I pause a second to regain my composure before I follow, entering the gleaming white room a few steps behind.
He stands in the middle of the tiled floor, staring at the tub already towered with bubbles, the fluffy clouds piled above the rim, a towel folded and waiting on the vanity along the back wall.
“You didn’t need to do this for me.” I move farther inside. “I could’ve run the water myself.”
“I’m sure you could, but I like having someone to indulge.” He shoots me a lackluster smirk, his attention skating over my cleavage to my stomach. “It’s been years.”
“A romantic? Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”
It was meant as a joke, but the seconds that follow become far deeper than that. Tense. I’ve fractured the lust by bringing us back to the real world.
We both have information we could use against each other. Ammunition. The repercussions potentially run deep.
“And yours with me,” he promises and makes his way toward the hall. “I left a robe hanging on the back of the door. Take your time. Relax. Call out if you need anything.”
“And if what I need is you?”
“Then maybe hold off for a while.” He meets my gaze for a beat before returning his attention to the hall. “When we’re finally together, it won’t be fast. I assure you, Layla, you’re going to want energy in reserve.”
12
Layla
He pulls the door closed in his wake, leaving me to picture exactly how long fucking him might take as I remove my clothes.
My shoulder protests the movement and once I’m naked, the angry red lines marking my body explain why. The purse strap had a free-for-all with my skin.
A quick glance in the mirror doesn’t come without a pained breath, either. My left cheek is viciously swollen along the bone, the puffiness almost reaching my eye.
I force myself to turn away, shoving my concern about Cole finding out to the furthest reaches of my mind, and climb into the bath.
The warm water is quick to soothe me, the heat coating my exposed skin in a sheen of sweat as the bubbles cuddle my chest all the way to my neck.
It doesn’t take long for the scotch to go to my head, numbing me perfectly, making the shaking stop. The silence will be my downfall, though.
The long stretch of quiet gives me too much time to picture this energetic sex Matthew alluded to. My imagination runs rampant with wild scenarios that aren’t entirely my forte.
It’s been a decade since I experienced passion. Even longer since I felt adored.
Benji and I made things work because of Stella and the family business. And we played our roles well. But below the surface, we were far from wedded bliss. We flatlined before our daughter was born. No romance. No energy. Little lust.
It wasn’t long until I discovered my husband was cheating on me, and I was okay with that. I always thought he was owed a mistress or two for what he was forced to give up. Especially when I would quit sleeping with him for months on end.
I kept the knowledge to myself, too. I never betrayed him to Cole due to fear of the punishment that would follow. Or worse—the death sentence.
Maybe it was wrong to pretend I didn’t know. Maybe Benji would’ve stopped if I asked. But I kept quiet for my own sake, too. Not just to keep my daughter’s father alive, but because it was a relief to rely on strangers to fulfill a duty that was meant to be mine.