by Cari Quinn
He grabbed his T-shirt, and again bound her with a shoddy knot. Her wrists this time. Then he dug around and unearthed her bra from where she’d tucked it under her pillow and wrapped it around the T-shirt to hitch her to the headboard. They both knew she could’ve been free in a heartbeat if she chose.
“Love your DIY bondage,” she said breathlessly. “Lube’s in the nightstand, by the way.”
Nodding his thanks, he withdrew the tube and quickly donned a lime-green condom. Lovely. He knelt between her parted legs, his attention on her face “Still with me?”
She nodded and moistened her kiss-swollen lips. His stubble had scratched her, and her jaw and cheeks were so pink that her freckles seemed even more prominent. Innocently wicked, that was his Layla. Even if she wasn’t his.
Swallowing the knot of nerves, he lifted her thigh. “You’re shaking.”
“No.” Her smile bloomed as if she’d turned up the dial degree by degree. “That’s you.”
He started to deny it, then noticed his fingers spasming around his cock. “Damn.”
“Are you okay?” she teased softly. “Is this your first time doing this?”
“It’s my first time doing it with you, so yeah. This is the first time.”
A tremor went through her, and he smiled. “That was you.”
“All me.”
“I want all of you.” She moaned and arched when he lifted her hips, nudging her higher with his knees beneath the backs of her thighs. He traced her puckered hole, making sure it gleamed. Then he slipped in a finger, added another. When he was certain she was ready, he replaced them with his cock.
Slowly, so slowly, he inched inside, watching her eyes for any sign of pain. She whimpered, and he stopped, only moving again when she gave an impatient nod for him to continue.
“Goddamn. I’m not worthy,” he whispered when he’d finally seated himself deep. Her giggle unintentionally drove him inward, and they both groaned at the increased friction.
They didn’t laugh anymore after that.
She tucked her knees close to her chest while he plowed in and out, his thrusts long and measured. The burn in his balls wormed its way into his consciousness, but it couldn’t compete with the fever-brightness of Layla’s eyes. They stayed locked on his, even when he jerked forward to kiss her with the hunger he could no longer hold back. He hammered into her, riding her as relentlessly as his need demanded. He knew she could take it, that she would never be satisfied with anything less than everything he had to give.
They rocked together toward the finish, her pale curves damp with sweat, her pussy slick from the desire he’d yet to fulfill. He hadn’t touched her clit, and she begged him with her eyes, with her wordless whimpers. She writhed against the fabric around her wrists, and he didn’t want her skin chafed. But God, he didn’t want this to end.
He pushed into her harder and harder, her moans eventually melding with the roar of blood in his ears. The rhythm took him over. He knew he made sounds too, but he didn’t know what he said. If there were words or just mindless mumbo jumbo. And then he settled on the one word he could manage, over and over.
“Layla.”
Somehow through the haze, he found the firm nub of her clit, and he rubbed her with the same frenetic pace his cock had set in her tight little ass. He relished the silken fist of her channel contracting around his length, sure he’d never experienced anything quite as exquisite as this. That she seemed to be right there with him, exulting in every stroke, only strengthened the feeling.
Finally the supernova behind his eyes exploded, and his body went with it, launching into hers with a force he might’ve regretted had he still had functioning brain cells. Then she screamed and shuddered and dragged him with her into the dark.
Chapter Nine
Aidan stood in the hallway, his attention riveted on what was occurring in his bedroom. His. This was his townhouse. His fiancée was currently being made love to just a few feet away. And here he stood, like a voyeur. Not saying a word. Not stopping what was happening. If he even could.
They hadn’t made any declarations. No pesky little three-word phrases had been exchanged. If he’d been anyone else and hadn’t once found himself in a situation where he’d said those three words within twenty-four hours of meeting someone, he might’ve laughed off the impossibility. Who fell in love overnight? But he’d been there. He’d fallen in love with Layla so fast he hadn’t taken a full breath until he’d moved into her apartment.
As a doctor, he should be able to write off what he was witnessing as infatuation. She was in a vulnerable place. Sawyer was the hearts-and-flowers type. Add in some combustible sexual chemistry, and it wasn’t surprising they were fighting some strong feelings. In time, those feelings would disappear. If he marched in there and told Layla she needed to send Sawyer home, she would.
Wouldn’t she?
He didn’t move.
This was on him. He’d set up this scenario. All risks came with consequences—and sometimes regrets.
He balled his hands into loose fists, but he didn’t turn away. From where he was standing, he couldn’t see much. Shadows mostly. A flash of ankle or thigh. But he could hear the moans and occasionally, the laughter. The frantic slapping of skin as they moved together. Hard and fast at first, before the pace slowed. A few beats passed, filled with the sound of their uneven breathing. Then more laughter and more slapping skin.
Aidan sucked in a breath of air rife with the decadent scents of sex. She’d finally found someone with the stamina to keep up with her.
After they quieted, he turned and walked down the hall. He needed a drink. Or several, chased by a sleeping pill. His presence wasn’t wanted in his bed, but there was always the couch.
Moving silently, he made his way into the kitchen. He didn’t flip on the light, just splashed brandy into a glass and stood drinking in the dark. When he finished the first glass, he poured another and left the decanter on the counter. Why kid himself?
He’d been doing that way too long.
Sometime later, footsteps sounded in the hall, way too heavy to be Layla. Great. Just what he needed when he was on the way to drunk.
Sawyer slapped on the light, then stopped dead, his mouth going slack as he spotted Aidan. Aidan toasted him with his glass—this was the third—and indicated the bottle. “Care for a drink?”
“How long have you been here?”
Hours. No, it probably wasn’t that long. Maybe not even two. Time passed in a blur when one was trapped in their recriminations. “Long enough. Drink?”
“I don’t usually drink.”
Aidan smiled. “Figures.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re wholesome. Nothing wrong with that,” he said, holding up a hand when Sawyer would’ve launched into a self-righteous tirade. He could practically see the indignant thought bubbles forming and exploding next to the man’s sex-tousled hair. “Just calling them like I see them.”
“If I’m so wholesome, what the fuck am I doing here?”
“I bet you’ve asked yourself that question more than once the past few days.”
“Yeah.” Sawyer crossed his arms over his impressive chest. Luckily he’d pulled on his jeans before making his trek.
Aidan suppressed a chuckle. Lucky for Sawyer, anyway.
“I’ve changed my mind.”
Aidan cocked a brow. “Too late for that, son.”
“I’m not your son, and I wasn’t referring to her.” Of course not. As if he’d even consider walking away from Layla now. “I meant the drink.”
Aidan got down a glass and gestured. “Help yourself.”
Sawyer poured several fingers of brandy, then tossed them back. Not two minutes later, he reached for the bottle again.
“I have no intention of getting drunk with you,” Aidan said mildly.
Sawyer swirled his brandy and lifted his gaze to Aidan. “Why are you? Getting drunk?”
“It seemed l
ike the thing to do.”
“You told her to invite me here tonight.”
“I did.” Aidan returned his attention to the glass. He’d be having his fourth soon, he was reasonably certain. “I don’t blame you for falling in love with her.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
Sawyer glanced toward the window and the night beyond. “She’s your fiancée. I understand that.”
No denials. Aidan had to respect him for not giving token resistance. For what it was worth, Sawyer Blake was a stand-up kind of guy.
She could’ve done worse. And already had.
Aidan shook his head, a smile he didn’t feel crossing his lips. “Honor among thieves. It’s admirable.”
“I’m not a thief. You opened the door and asked me in.”
“Subtext, Sawyer.” He clapped a hand on Sawyer’s shoulder and took back the decanter. “Figure it out.”
“Here’s some subtext for you. What the fuck’s your problem?” Sawyer slammed down his glass, his eyes glittering as vibrantly as the crystal. “You have a woman like her, you don’t fuck it up. You don’t shove her toward me, then step back and act as if you’re wounded that she has feelings and isn’t just your blow-up doll to manipulate at will.”
“I’m not wounded.”
“No? Then why are you standing in here drinking alone?”
“What did you expect me to do? Ask you to move over so there was room for all three of us in bed?” Aidan cocked a brow. “You’re the one who decreed what was off-limits. Not me.”
“I said DP was fine.” That Sawyer flushed slightly upon saying it might’ve made Aidan grin under normal circumstances.
If he wasn’t considering what it would be like not to have Layla between them.
Aidan nodded. “Yes. You did.”
“I also agreed when she told me you wanted to participate the other night. It was your choice not to.”
“Yes. I do so love to choose.”
Sawyer twisted his mouth as if he’d tasted something sour. “Besides, it’s your house. Your bed.”
“My woman,” Aidan agreed softly, tipping more brandy into his glass. “Or she was.”
“So it’s just that simple. You slide aside and let me move right in. Don’t even make any attempt to keep—”
“Listen, Sawyer, you’re a nice guy.” He ignored Sawyer’s muttered curse. “I really don’t want to get into a pissing match with you. We’re all adults here, aren’t we?” Again he toasted him with his glass. “I’m sure we can figure this out to our mutual satisfaction.”
“Oh yeah? How?”
Aidan stared into his glass. “I’ve had some time to think this evening.”
Time he’d spent in the mouth of an alley in the city, watching the show he’d paid twenty bucks to see. He’d been reduced to witnessing the torrid urges of others, as if they could serve as a substitute for indulging his own.
The college boys had not only fucked for Aidan’s pleasure tonight, they’d also given each other blowjobs. That had cost an extra ten bucks each.
Did it count as soliciting a prostitute, he wondered, if he didn’t touch them? If they would’ve touched each other even had he not been there?
He shrugged and drank. It didn’t really fucking matter, when it came right down to it. His boatload of sins, as innumerable as they were, wouldn’t tip over if he added that one to the bow.
“Thinking while you’re drunk off your ass? Should be really enlightening.”
He raised a brow and pivoted to look at Sawyer. “I’ve never been drunk off my ass. Nor do I plan to be this evening.”
“What did you come up with?” Sawyer asked, voice tight. “A way to split her up like a piece of sirloin maybe?”
“You want to be with her,” he stated flatly.
“Aidan—”
“Do you?” Silly to ask when he already knew the answer.
“Yes.” Sawyer’s jaw cracked. “Goddammit, yes.”
“As do I. You may not understand that, but it’s not for you to.”
“So now what?” Sawyer practically spat out the question. “We duel? Or here’s a truly revolutionary idea. We let her choose?”
“She has her choices, as always. Is she a prisoner here?” Aidan gestured, only realizing when Sawyer jolted back that he may have swung a bit too wide. “Do you see steel bars anywhere in this townhouse?”
“There are all kinds of cages. Stop playing word games with me and get to the point.”
“I don’t intend to lose her.” He sipped more brandy, rolled it around in his mouth. “Whatever it takes to keep her in my life is a price I’m willing to pay. If you’re that price, so be it.”
“What the hell are you suggesting?”
“You offer her something I can’t. I want her happy.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Sawyer said under his breath, again reaching for the brandy. Funny how quickly the teetotaler abandoned his morals. “How do you think this situation will make her happy?”
“She loves me, Sawyer. Our relationship isn’t born out of necessity but mutual respect.”
“That’s why you lord yourself over her like you’re the king and she’s your fiefdom? Thanks for explaining that. I didn’t quite get it before.”
Aidan set down his glass. His heart was racing, and his head seemed to pulse from its beat. “Do you honestly believe you have an accurate take on our relationship after spending three nights here? We’ve been together four years. Yes, we’ve had downs. We’ve also had many ups. If you think my reason for bringing you into our lives didn’t stem from my desire for her to receive what she needs, you’re not only a country bumpkin. You’re also a fool.”
Sawyer slammed down his glass. “And you just stepped over the line.”
Aidan inclined his chin when Sawyer stepped forward. “Take a swing at me. Go ahead. I won’t even block. It’d be a hell of a lot easier for me if you punched your own ticket out of here.”
Sawyer clenched his hands into fists. “What are we, just playing pieces to you? Before, you had Layla to move around. Now you’ve got me too. So you think.”
“I’m about to make you an offer you can’t refuse.” A sardonic smile lifted Aidan’s lips at Sawyer’s narrow-eyed glance. “Of course you can refuse. But you won’t.”
“Oh really? And what offer is that?”
“You want Layla?” He didn’t answer, but Aidan could almost taste Sawyer’s anticipation. And his desperation. “She’s yours, for as long as it works between you. I won’t interfere. Her body is yours to do with as you wish. As she wishes.”
“Her body.” There was no missing the rawness of Sawyer’s voice. He might’ve felt sorry for the guy, if he hadn’t felt more sorry for himself.
“Yes. She’s my fiancée. I’m not giving her up.” Aidan shut his eyes and drew in a cleansing breath. “Someday you may tire of each other. Or you may not. In the meantime and after, she’s mine. She’ll wear my ring. Take my last name.”
“Bear your children.”
“If it comes to that.”
“If it comes to that?” Sawyer shook his head and pushed a hand through his hair. “You’re one creepy-ass dude.”
“You have a tendency to use the word ‘ass’ as an adjective entirely too much.”
Much to his shock, Sawyer laughed. Well, it was more of a combination gasp and chuckle, but Aidan wasn’t in the mood to split hairs. “You know, you could try running your high-handed schemes by her for once. Just for kicks.”
“Do you think she’ll say no to you?”
“Maybe she’ll say no to you,” Sawyer tossed back.
Aidan shook his head. “She’s not ready to leave me. And I’m not about to give her reason to.”
“Haven’t you already?”
“I only have her best wishes at heart. I would never hurt her.” Not willingly. Not if I had any other choice.
“Not real sure how you got here from there in your mind, but okay, sure, whatever y
ou say. And just FYI—she’s hurting. You’ve hurt her. She thinks you don’t want her anymore.”
Aidan reached for his glass, lifted it halfway to his lips. Set it down again. “I’ll talk to her. Explain.”
Explain what, exactly? If he confessed all to her, revealed everything he’d kept buried for so many years, she would try to understand. Layla was a nurturer, and she would fight to make sense of what he was going through. She would probably believe him if he said he’d never intended to take his repressed needs out of the closet. He’d committed himself to her, his best friend. He knew he was unlikely to ever find anyone else he could love as much as he did her—woman or man. He didn’t want to. But even if she did take him at his word, broken as it was, she wouldn’t ever look at him the same way again.
If that even mattered anymore, since she was clearly confiding personal information about their very flawed relationship to a man she’d just met. A man she obviously had feelings for. Reciprocated, complicated feelings.
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Sawyer muttered.
“What do you expect me to do?” Aidan tightened his fingers around the glass until he half expected it to shatter under the pressure. “I won’t lose her.”
“So she’s a possession to you. Like that sweet Beamer you drive.”
Aidan glanced at Sawyer. The guy practically donned a superhero cape when it came to Layla. As much as that should’ve annoyed him, he couldn’t help thinking he’d chosen well. Too well, maybe.
As a doctor, he’d always dwelled firmly in the here and now. Medicine relied on science, and it didn’t leave a lot of room for intangibles. Yet every now and then, he had to wonder. Was it just happenstance Layla had latched on to Sawyer’s photos when Aidan had been about to ask her to consider bringing another man into their sex life?
The guy was from Nebraska. A step away from being their neighbor, for God’s sake. He couldn’t have been more perfect for Layla if Aidan had built him to her exact specifications.
Which begged the question: was she meant to meet Sawyer? And if so, what the hell did that mean for him?
