Touch Me Now

by Donna Hill

  For a moment the air stopped moving. She could feel his pulse pounding through his veins. She pressed her head tighter against his back willing her mind and body to absorb his hurt and replace it with healing energy.

  Layla came around to stand in front of him. She looked up into his eyes and then cupped his face in her hands and rose up to kiss him.

  He drew her to him, held her as if he would never let her go. His mouth moved hungrily over hers with an urgency that stole her breath away.

  His fingertips pressed into her flesh as a low groan rose up from his throat.

  She held on, certain that she would fall from a great height if she ever let him go. Heat unfurled deep in her belly and rushed to her head, banged in her veins.

  His mouth dropped to her exposed neck where he planted hot kisses, laved her with his tongue to send jolts of electricity shimmering through her.

  “I want you,” he groaned, hot and heavy in her ear. His thumbs brushed the underside of her breasts then glided upward to caress them.

  Layla whimpered in delight. It was so hot. So hot. She wanted to tear her clothes from her body to gain some relief.

  Maurice shifted and his hands were under her dress, hiking it up above her hips. He hooked his fingers along the elastic band of her panties and pulled them down. And then he was on his knees, between her legs with his mouth pressed against her sex.

  Her legs trembled, but he held her tightly by her hips. His tongue slid along her clit and found her wet and ready.

  Tenderly he suckled the hardened bud until she was a mass of electrified sensation.

  Her fingers dug into his shoulders. Her head was flung back as the intensity rose higher and higher. She was certain she was screaming with pleasure as he delved deeper, faster, teasing her in that deliciously sinful way of his.

  She was on the brink of coming. Her breath came in short, hot gasps. Every sinew in her body was on fire. Her muscles tightened and then trembled uncontrollably as the mind-numbing climax slammed into her.

  She cried out his name over and over as wave after wave of release washed through her leaving her limp and totally satisfied.

  She realized that Maurice was standing in front of her. The room seemed out of focus. Her heart was still racing. She felt her knees give way, but Maurice had his arm around her waist. His hand slid between her thighs and he pushed a finger inside her. Instinctively her insides clenched around his finger and she trembled.

  “We’re not finished,” he said urgently. He took her by the hand led her into his bedroom. Quickly he rid her of her clothing and then his.

  Maurice pulled her onto the bed. The lay facing each other. He ran his hand languidly along her side, down the dip in her waist, over the curve of her hip, before dipping his head to suck a needy nipple into his mouth.

  “Ohhh....”

  He nipped her just a little with his teeth and her hips pushed up against him.

  Maurice groaned. His erection throbbed. He stretched toward the end table and dug around inside for a condom. He turned onto his back, put the packet between his teeth and tore it open. Skillfully he rolled on the thin sheath.

  He turned to Layla. She moved toward him and eagerly gave him the kiss that he sought and then his hands, his mouth, his tongue were everywhere at once, igniting every nerve in her body. And then she was pinned beneath him, her legs spread wide on either side of him.

  He stroked her thighs, coaxed her knees until they bent and then he was inside her and all the air stuck in her lungs.

  Tiny explosions of light went off behind her lids as the length and breadth of him filled her.

  He remained perfectly still, relishing the exquisite sensation of her wet, velvet heat that wrapped around him like a glove.

  Layla tried to raise her hips, to heighten the friction, to feel more of him, but he held her perfectly still.

  He used his weight to hold down her hips while he pulled slowly out of her and then back in with the same erotic deliberateness.

  Layla whimpered.

  “Sssh.” He pushed into her again and again then covered her mouth with his to swallow her cries. “Spread your legs for me,” he whispered against her mouth. He nuzzled her neck. She did as he asked. He thrust deeper, held them there then pulled out slowly until only the swollen tip remained inside her.

  She tried to rise up, to get him back, but he held her fast.

  “Not yet. Just give in to the experience. Feel it. Feel me. Feel me,” he groaned and began to move, slow and steady, in and out, each time hitting a new spot, igniting another delicious sensation.

  Every fiber of her being tingled and throbbed and pulsed. Her thoughts swam. She was a ball of unbelievable feeling, transported out of her body.

  She gripped the sheets in her fists to keep from screaming as the first burst of her climax roared through her.

  Maurice groaned as her insides gripped him in a vice. He pushed her thighs apart, flexed his hips and rammed into her over and over as the world exploded into a million lights and doused them in their flame.

  Layla curled in Maurice’s arms. Her thoughts were cloudy, her body still hummed. Her limbs felt leaden. She was sure she wouldn’t be able to move for days. He stroked her hair.

  “You okay?” he asked quietly.

  “Hmmm.”

  He kissed the top of her head then pulled the sheet up over them. “Get some sleep.”

  “Will you go with me to the party?” she mumbled.

  “I’ll think about it. Sleep. You have to work tomorrow. I don’t.” He kissed her again and she acquiesced into a peaceful deep sleep.

  Chapter 21

  “Morning.”

  Layla’s eyes fluttered open. Maurice gradually came into focus, standing above her holding a steaming cup of coffee. He was shirtless. His pajama pants hung low on his slender hips.

  A smile eased across her mouth. “Morning.” Her tongue felt thick. She reached for the cup. “Thank you.”

  He sat down on the side of the bed. “Sleep okay?”

  She nodded. “You?”

  “Like a well-fed baby.” He grinned. “It’s almost ten.”

  She pushed her hair away from her face and covered a yawn. “Do you always get up so early after…a long night?” Her cheeks heated.

  “Years of training.” His eyes crinkled. “I’ve been up since six.”

  She blinked back her surprise. “Wow, I feel like a real slacker.” She sipped more coffee and started to feel a little more alert. She set the cup down on the nightstand and sat up against the pillows. She pulled her knees toward her chest and felt the ache. A flash from the night before teased her thoughts.

  “Want me to run you a shower or you want to do that at your place?”

  “My place. But thanks for the offer.” She took him in. “How’s the leg.”

  As if thinking about it for the first time, he reached down and massaged his thigh.

  “Better than it’s been in a very long time.” His eyes moved over her face. “I owe that to you.”

  “I wish I could take the credit for that but I can’t. You have to do the work.” She tossed the sheet aside and stood.

  “Hmm. You look very edible in the morning, Ms. Brooks.”

  She snatched the sheet from the bed and wrapped it around her naked body then padded off to the bathroom.

  They stood framed in his doorway.

  “See you later?” he asked.

  “I’d like that.”

  “I’ll stop by the spa around three.”

  “Okay.” She pressed her fingers to her lips and then placed them against his stubbled cheek. “See you later.”

  Layla sailed through her morning and gave extra special attention to each of her clients. All of them gushed about how good she
was, how wonderful they felt and that they were going to recommend her to all of their friends.

  At three on the dot, Maurice showed up. She locked the door and devoted the next hour and a half to making him forget everything that wasn’t her.

  For the rest of the week they spent all of their free time together, talking, laughing, exploring the town, strolling along the beach, waking up together in the morning and sleeping together at night.

  When she wasn’t with him she felt as if a part of her was missing, and she counted down the hours until she would see him again.

  Maurice was actually happy. He felt good inside and out. The pain was virtually gone. The nightmares had vanished. The thoughts that constantly twisted inside him were pushed to a corner of his mind, no longer dominating everything that he did or how he felt.

  He was only slightly reluctant to conclude that it was because Layla was in his life. She had opened up a space in his soul and entered it. They’d known each other for almost two months but he felt as if he’d been waiting all his life for her. The fear of his growing feelings for Layla was still there but he wanted to battle them and win.

  He’d opted for a crisp white shirt beneath the midnight blue suit that Layla had helped him pick out on one of their excursions into town. He grinned at his reflection in the mirror. She had great taste. He slid his tie around his neck.

  Although he’d been initially reluctant to attend the party, he’d rather do the mix and mingle thing than spend an evening apart from Layla and run the risk of the single men ogling his woman.

  His thoughts jerked to a halt. His fingers stilled. His woman? Wow, when had that notion slipped in and found a home? Was Layla his woman or was this thing that they had going on a passing fling—a result of the magic of The Port?

  He straightened his tie, took his wallet from the dresser and put it in his pocket.

  Whatever it was, it was changing him in ways that he had never expected. Would it last? Was it real? By habit he massaged his thigh. He looked toward his cane that stood propped in the corner. Not tonight. Tonight he would be like every other man.

  Layla stepped into her killer heels that were definitely designed for style and not longevity on the dance floor. She did a pirouette in the mirror and the skirt of her knee-length, teal-colored cocktail dress fanned out around her long legs. The halter top aptly supported the weight of her breasts and the deep opened back teased the imagination.

  She dabbed her favorite scent behind her ears, the pulse points at her wrists and in the valley of her breasts. A final coat of tinted lip gloss and she was ready for her night out with Maurice.

  As excited as she was about the event itself, she was equally apprehensive. For the most part she and Maurice had created their own cocoon, a fantasy world of sorts. It was only the two of them. This would be the first time that they were together in a big social setting, among her friends.

  In the time that she’d gotten to know Maurice she knew that his mood could shift at the drop of a hat. He could go from open and gregarious to dark and dangerously distant in the blink of an eye, and she was never sure what would set him off. She knew that most of it was a result of the demons that he still wrestled with and the issues that remained off-topic, and the flare up of pain that was a constant reminder that he was no longer the man that he once was and could never return to the life that he believed defined him.

  Her fingers shook ever so slightly as she slipped her earrings in her lobes. It was more than that. She should have told him about tonight. Desiree told her as much as well. But things had been going so well between them and she didn’t want anything to upset the balance that they’d established.

  She drew in a breath and faced her reflection. It will all work out, she inwardly chanted.

  Her stomach tightened at the sound of the knock on her front door. She prayed she’d done the right thing.

  Maurice’s eyes lit up the dark when he saw her standing in the doorway.

  “You look…incredible.”

  “Thank you,” she managed unable to take her eyes off of her chocolate candy in front of her. “And you…”

  He grinned. “You have good taste. Ready?”

  She nodded. She took her tiny purse from the table by the door and they headed out.

  When they drove up to Melanie’s home, the entire landscape and two-story house was awash in muted white lights. The soft strains of music drifted to them on the balmy breeze. The air was filled with electric energy. Valets scurried about parking cars along the property and the well-heeled guests dotted the landscape in varying degrees of finery.

  Maurice turned the keys over to the valet and Layla grabbed his hand. “I’m happy you decided to come.”

  He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss before they started along the path to the front door.

  As usual, Melanie had outdone herself. The ground floor had been turned into a full dance area. All of the furniture had been removed. A four-piece band was set up near the back wall. Five massive linen-topped tables were lined from end to end with an assortment of cold and hot foods and everything from caviar to grilled salmon, roasted duck, steamed vegetables, and everything in between. And of course there was the dessert table that redefined decadent.

  The bar took up another wall and servers in black and white outfits carried plates of tiny appetizers. It was all a little overwhelming to anyone who was unaccustomed to Melanie’s extravagance. Layla grew up in this environment. And although she’d distanced herself from it in later years, it was still “just another party.”

  Layla felt Maurice tense next to her as they moved through the gathering guests. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and looked up to find his expression stiff and unyielding. His brows were drawn together in a tight line.

  “I thought this was close friends,” he said, looking around disparagingly. Images of Lawson family shindigs flashed in his head. All the pomp and circumstance and phony friendships, and purposeless conversations curled his stomach. A shaft of pain seized his leg.

  “It is…sort of,” she said, forcing cheer into her voice, hoping to ease the tension.

  His jaw clenched.

  She pressed her head against his arm. “Come on, we’re here to celebrate Desi and Lincoln’s anniversary,” she gently coaxed. “They’re really cool people and so are their friends. We’ll have fun. You’ll see.”

  Maurice pushed out a breath of reluctant acceptance. “What’s back there,” he asked, lifting his chin in the direction of the yard.

  “Let’s go see.” She took his hand to lead him out back just as Melanie and Claude approached.

  “There you two are.” Melanie hurried over to the couple and embraced Layla in a tight hug. “He’s edible,” she whispered in Layla’s ear then stepped back.

  “Mel, Claude, this is Maurice Lawson.”

  Maurice extended his hand to Melanie and then Claude. “Thanks for having me.”

  “Of course. Layla hasn’t stopped talking about you. I’ve been dying to meet you.”

  A waitress approached with a tray of drinks.

  Melanie plucked a flute of champagne from the tray and the trio followed suit.

  “To a wonderful evening,” Claude said.

  They touched glasses.

  “Where are the guests of honor?” Layla asked.

  “Out back. Come. I’ll introduce you around.”

  Melanie linked her arm through Layla’s and the men walked behind them.

  “Did you tell him?” Melanie whispered.

  “No.”

  Melanie shot her a look of alarm. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “So do I,” she said on a breath of hope.

  They stepped through the opened French doors and out into a wonderland. Lights draped the trees, giving the night a starlike quality.
The manicured lawn was covered in enormous white tents with circular tables beneath, all set with white china, sparkling silver and crystal glasses.

  There was another band set up along the perimeter and a row of chafing tables with even more food. At least a hundred people floated around.

  “There they are,” Melanie said, pointing out Desiree and Lincoln across the lawn.

  They wound their way around the tents to the guests of honor.

  Desiree squealed in delight when she saw Layla. “So glad you’re here,” she said, squeezing her hands. She looked over to Maurice.

  “So glad to officially meet you. We’ve been ships in the night for weeks.” She grabbed Lincoln’s arm. “Lincoln told me you two already met.”

  “Yes, we did.” He smiled at Lincoln and they shook hands. “Good to see you.”

  “Yes, you too. Glad you decided to come. Have you all eaten?”

  “No, we just got here.”

  “Well, there’s plenty of everything,” Melanie said. “Relax, eat, enjoy, mingle. I’m going to do my hostess thing.” She tiptoed and pecked her husband’s lips then wiped away the smudge of lipstick with the pad of her thumb before she flitted away.

  “I don’t know about you guys, but I could use a real drink,” Claude said, holding up the delicate flute of champagne and making a face.

  “Now you’re talking,” Lincoln agreed. “You game?” he asked Maurice.

  “Sure, why not.”

  “In that case, if you ladies will excuse us,” Claude said with a short bow. The three men walked off to the main house.

  “Girl, I can see why your head is spinning over that man,” Desiree said once the men were out of earshot.

  Layla blushed and heaved a sigh. “Yeah, he’s a special guy. I’m really falling for him, Desi, but…”

  “But what?”

  She lowered her head. “He’s a hard man to get to know. There are layers to him that he won’t uncover. Under all that virile exterior he has a lot of anger and guilt.”