Imperfectly Bad
Page 10
“I like the way you think, Mr. Ziviani.”
And even though, seconds before, I’d been laughing, I cringed hearing her say that sentence. A sentence that held so much meaning. I half expected to be hit with an onslaught of memories.
But I wasn’t.
Instead I felt my heart skip a beat as Layla slipped her hand into mine and without another word, we made our way out of the office to the apartment.
We didn’t talk at all on the way, both of us seemingly lost in our own thoughts. I couldn’t stop thinking about everything I was feeling. Things that I hadn’t thought existed within me anymore. To say that it scared the shit out of me was an understatement.
Once inside, I offered Layla a drink but she shook her head as she casually looked around. “How long have you lived here?” she asked.
“Not long. Tyler, my roommate, and I moved here this summer. We were living in a condo with Shane and Emma, two college friends, but once they got married they were ready to be on their own. Tyler and I couldn’t afford the hefty payment on our own, so we moved.”
She cocked an eyebrow at me. She knew I made plenty of money. “Really?”
“No, not really. Tyler was too proud to let me pay more than half, and living with him is important to me. So here we are.”
“Where is he?”
“Not here. I’m assuming he’s with his girlfriend.”
I turned and opened the refrigerator. Leaning down, I paused before grabbing a bottle of water. “He’s always with her.” The fact that I was being left behind by my friends was all too real and I took it out on the fridge, slamming it shut before I straightened and chugged some water. Within seconds I felt her arms snake around my waist.
“You don’t have to be alone,.” she whispered into my ear.
I spun around in her arms, reaching behind her to set my bottle down on the counter, and my hands found their way to her cheeks. Taking her face in my hand I looked down at her, searching for a sign. But deep down I didn’t need it, I already knew. My breath became short as I realized I needed Layla . She was the key to healing my past. She’d helped me stop thinking about Jenny. It wasn’t something I’d taken note of until that point but, slowly, the hold that Jenny had had on me was melting away. I found myself caring less about her everyday. Instead I wanted Layla. “I don’t plan on being alone again, Layla.”
“But I thought—”
Before she could argue or question me further, I dropped my head to press my lips gently against hers. She froze in place and I could tell she was shocked—hell, I was shocked myself. As our lips rested, barely touching each other, my mind raced with what I was about to do.
The number of nasty things we’d done with our mouths recently would take more than my fingers and toes to count, but kissing? No. Even in the most fervent of situations I’d managed to avoid kissing her on the lips. Any other part of her skin was fair game. What Layla and I had was sex, pure and simple. Sex was void of emotion. Kissing… well, kissing was full of it. Kissing was what mothers did to their children’s knees when they hurt themselves. Kissing was a husband’s greeting to his wife after a long day. Kissing was a physical expression of an emotion so deep that words just weren’t enough. When you kissed someone you gave a part of your soul to them, a part that couldn’t be taken back. I’d given so much of my soul to Jenny that it had ruined me for anyone else.
Or at least, that’s what I’d thought.
For the briefest of moments we both remained still and the action felt stilted, felt… false.
“Rob,” she whispered against my mouth and I felt her breathing increase in line with my own. My heart pounded in my chest and all the air left the room.
Without further thought, I tentatively ran my tongue across her lower lip. As if knowing that this was something big for me, Layla remained still. Her warm lips felt cool against the heat of my tongue and her breath smelled like cinnamon.
There was no going back from this. If there was one thing Rob Ziviani never did, it was a half-assed job. If I was going to kiss her, it was going to be the best damn kiss of her whole fuckin’ life.
Somewhere along the way I’d made the decision that this thing with Layla wasn’t just sex anymore. What it was, I didn’t know. I just knew that I wasn’t afraid.
Not anymore.
Pressing my lips to hers I coaxed her, urging her to open. It had been so long since I’d last done this that I wondered for a second if I remembered how. That was, until the softest of whimpers left her mouth and her tongue darted out to meet mine. Using more force than was likely necessary, I pushed her back against the wall and lifted her hips. In the weeks that we’d been fucking, we’d learned each other’s cues and she immediately knew to wrap her legs around my waist. The part of my brain that dealt with emotion took over and we began kissing like teenagers, our hands exploring each other’s bodies as if each touch were new. And in a way it was. Something inside me was coming to life.
Knowing that we wouldn’t be able to keep it this sedate for much longer, I pulled away, albeit reluctantly. For a second we stared at each other, our eyes saying what our mouths couldn’t. Layla lifted a hand to my mouth, running her finger across my lips that were surely swollen from the vigorous attention they’d been given. Her touch was reverent and the corners of her lips twitched. My heart was pounding knowing that it was the first time in a long time that I had actually kissed someone. I mean really kissed, not only with my lips but with my tongue… and maybe even a little bit of my heart.
Needing to pull us both back into the moment, I jerked my head toward my bedroom and said, “Shall we?”
The small smile on her lips grew as she nodded her head. Needing no further encouragement, I carried her to my bedroom and placed her gently onto the bed.
With her hair spread out over my pillow she looked like an angel and I ran my hands down her arm, feeling the goose bumps covering her skin. I slowly unbuttoned her shirt while she nervously nibbled on her lip. Once the fabric fell open I admired her. It was the first time I had really allowed myself to revel in everything Layla. Before it had always been about satisfying a need, rushing toward that euphoric high, but now… well, now it seemed like so much more.
“God, you’re beautiful,” I whispered before slowly trailing featherlight kisses across her stomach. She arched her back and bucked beneath me, and I smiled knowing that she was enjoying this just as much as me.
Intending for this time to be different from the rest, I sat back on my heels and tore my shirt off before unzipping her skirt. She wiggled her hips as I pulled it down, revealing her tiny lace thong. The sight had my heart thumping inside my chest, the anticipation almost more than I could take as I put my knee between her legs, making her spread for me. Usually at this point I was all about the get in, get out. But not this time. This time was different.
Unable to explain to her the change in our relationship, I continued kissing every square inch of her body before pressing myself back to her lips, hoping that she sensed the difference. Whether or not she was feeling what I was became irrelevant as her hands tangled in my hair and we pushed ourselves closer together, creating much needed friction through our clothes. She moaned softly as I ran my hands over her gloriously perfect tits. I smiled against her mouth.
“I haven’t dry humped in ages.”
Layla’s hands made their way to my face and I half expected her to say something, but she didn’t, choosing instead to stare into my eyes.
Over the years I’d seen a chick flick or two, but the sappiness of the storylines never ceased to amaze me. Everything always seemed contrived—the emotions too sickly sweet, too corny, too… perfect.
The connection hit like a lightening bolt and I knew that those scenes weren’t contrived, or corny. They were just perfect.
Untold emotions flickered in her eyes for a second before she pressed her lips to mine and kissed me. The first time I had been kissed by a woman in God knows how long. Even when I’d slept wit
h Jenny the other week I’d managed to avoid it, too used to it for anything to change, and too filled with a need to own her to care. But having Layla take charge was a new experience—one I intended to take full advantage of.
Without breaking the seal of our mouths her hands moved to my hips, her fingers managing to undo my belt and unbutton my pants before she pushed them down my thighs with her feet. I snaked an arm underneath her and unsnapped her bra, causing her tits to fall free. Instinctively, I moved to them, drawing her nipples into my mouth and flicking them with my tongue.
Reason told me to go slow, to savor the moment, but my body fought against it and my hand moved down of its own accord to trace the top of her lace thong. She pushed herself up to meet me but I wasn’t about to give it up that easy. Instead I teased her, running my fingers up and down the outside of her panties. The fabric was damp and I knew she was ready for me. As she writhed beneath me, wanting more, I continued to suck and tease her nipple with my mouth at the same time as my fingers dipped into her. She hadn’t been expecting it and gasped as I thrust myself in and out, making sure to take the time to hit her sweet spot.
The chemistry between Layla and I was undeniable. In the short time we’d been together our sex life had been more than incredible. Circumstances dictated that we’d had to be fast, but tonight was different. It didn’t have to be the horny race it usually was. Tonight, we could be slow and methodical. It wasn’t about the finale.
It was all about the journey to get there.
The gift of time was a welcome one and we took our time removing all our clothes—and not just with our hands. When we were finally naked, bared to each other completely, I held my body above hers. Sweat glistened on our skin, and my chest heaved with ecstasy. What had I been thinking of all these years? The actual getting naked part had never been so thrilling… or hot.
I gave her one final peck on the lips before moving towards the nightstand to grab a rubber. Whatever this was, while great, wasn’t enough for me to risk becoming a dad. I placed a kiss at the hollow of her throat, trying to show her just how much this all meant. The fact that I was using kisses to convey feelings was a concept that did not pass me by. Frozen in place, I didn’t move until she ran her fingernails up my back and I shivered. Every communication between us within these four walls had been wordless, and I wanted to be sure that this was what she wanted and not just what she thought I needed from her, so I pushed back until I could see into her eyes again. My hips rocked against hers, the head of my cock gliding through her arousal and making us both suck in air.
“Yes,” she whispered, so quietly that had the room not been totally void of all other sound I would have missed it.
I pushed into her, gritting my teeth and letting out a low hiss as her warmth welcomed me. My forehead dropped so low that I felt her breath against my face and, my eyes locked on her. Wanting to revel in the feeling of her tight around me, I guided myself in and out at the most excruciatingly slow pace. It wasn’t long before I felt myself building and when her eyes rolled back I knew she felt it too. Just knowing that much spurred me on and I kept pace, propping myself up with my elbow so I could touch her with my free hand.
Touching was another thing I avoided during sex—other than the necessary, obviously—but with Layla I couldn’t stop myself. My finger traced an imaginary path from her temple to her chin, her neck to the valley of her chest, down her stomach and back up her side. My touch was reverent. Every inch of her skin was smooth and felt like velvet beneath my fingertips.
My heart was racing as I felt her tighten around me. Her eyes found their way back to mine just before her orgasm overtook her and that was enough to push me over the edge finding my own release shortly after. Unable to let go of the indescribable feeling, it was only pure exhaustion that made me stop moving.
Once it was over I fell next to her, completely drained and not entirely sure of what had just happened. I was staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought when I felt her fingers on my arm. I looked to her, suddenly scared of what she might think of the black ink on my arm.
“That was intense,” I managed to say.
She nodded, her finger still tracing the letters of my tattoo. “I think that was your heart finally healing.”
“So what do you say you let me take you to dinner?” I asked as we walked the corridors from the meeting room back to my office. It was a big step for me. I hadn’t been on a serious date in…
Well, a really long time.
Her face flushed red, and I loved that she was so innocent. “Do you think that’s such a good idea?”
“Sure, why not?”
“Well you know, the firm’s views on fraternizing…”
I waved away her concerns with a flick of my hand. “Oh, angel, I violated those rules a long time ago.”
“Rob,” she scolded.
“What? I’m not gonna lie.”
After our meeting I’d waited behind for her, wanting to see what she thought about meeting up properly. And by properly I meant not just to have sex. Using humor was my way of hiding that fact that I was incredibly nervous. For the first time in a long time I was asking rather than telling, and it was fuckin’ scary.
We reached her desk and I stopped as she sat down and flipped her computer screen back on. She started to go about her business, alternating between filing papers and tapping away on her keyboard, effectively ignoring me. But I was having none of it and crossed my arms across my chest and tapped my foot.
She looked up at me from behind her screen. “Oh, you’re still here,” she teased. “You need something?”
Nice try, Layla, but two could play that game.
“Don’t make me embarrass you and make a huge showing of just how little I care about the company’s policy on fraternizing.” I smirked and wagged my eyebrows.
“You’re incorrigible,” she muttered, but a small smile played across her lips despite her feigned irritation, and I threw a silent celebration knowing that I’d won.
“I like it when you talk smart to me.”
She waved me away.
I turned and started towards my office door. “Meet you in the parking garage at seven, okay?”
I didn’t bother to wait for an answer. I knew she’d be there.
How could she not be?
Exhaustion had long since set in as I made my way to my car, but even that couldn’t keep me from being excited at the thought of spending some time with Layla. There was something about her that gave me hope again. Little by little, she was restoring my faith in women and I was actually starting to believe that they weren’t all heartbreakers. It was an odd concept but maybe—just maybe—they weren’t all stupid and out to get me. It had only been a few weeks, but our relationship was evolving, becoming something so much more than me numbing my pain.
Approaching my usual parking space, I smiled when I found her sitting on the hood of my car.
“You better have not dented that,” I teased, unlocking it as she jumped down.
“You try wearing these things all day.” She motioned down to her feet, and possibly the sexiest high heels that I had ever seen.
Holding my briefcase in one hand I pulled her into me with my free arm. She squealed as she collided with my chest.
“Well, whatever they are, they make you look fuckin’ adorable.”
She wrapped her arms around my neck and I pulled her closer, leaning down to cover my mouth with hers. Everything around us faded into the background when our lips touched, and when we pulled back we were both breathless. We stared into each other’s eyes before dropping our arms and I winked at her as I started towards the driver’s side door. She kept her eyes on mine as she made her way to the passenger side.
The first part of the journey was quiet. Things at work were still manic and I was running through the rest of my week in my head when finally Layla asked, “So, where are you taking me?”
“Only my most favorite secret place on the planet.”
We joked as I drove. She told me about her past, how she was a native New Yorker and had grown up in the Bronx. It had been rough for her being one of the few white girls in her neighborhood so she had learned to be quite tough. I made a comment about her looking too sweet to be a seasoned New Yorker.
“I’m a lot tougher than I look,” she said.
“You’d have to be to hang around with me,” I half-heartedly joked, wondering if that was part of the reason she was with me. The unease was not a welcome feeling and I swallowed the lump in my throat.
“You’re not so bad.”
I looked out the corner of my eyes at her. I loved that she tried to see the best in me, but she didn’t even know the half of it. I pulled into the parking space that I seemed to choose every time I came here and threw the car in park.
“A bookstore?” she asked. “This is your favorite secret place?”
Okay, not the reaction I’d been expecting. I felt like she was judging me, and I could sense my walls shooting back up.
“Well, it’s not just about the bookstore,” I defended myself. No one, not even my best friends knew about this place and all it meant to me. I was trusting her with this. With more than this. That’s why I’d brought her here. This place had become my sanctuary from all the drama over the last few years. It was important to me.
And, against the odds, so was she.
A gentle hand on my knee interrupted my thoughts, but before I could say anything she said something that made my chest tight.
“Even if it was just a bookstore, I would think it’s awesome.”
Those simple words of reassurance, of validation, were enough to make the apprehension melt away. This had been the right decision, I just knew it.
I took her hand and led the way. I loved the way our fingers fit together—like she was the missing piece to a puzzle that had remained unsolved for far too long. The bell sounded as we entered the store, and I weaved us around the other customers, pulling her quickly past all the stacks toward the back of the store.