“The Rule-Breaker.” Her voice sounds rumbly like it does in the morning when she wakes up, and calls me about the dream she had about Nicky or about me.
“Yeah?” My voice mimics hers, as if she’s just jumpstarted my heart after months of being comatose.
“Yeah.” She nods her head. “It’s not pretty, our love story.”
“It’s not.”
“We break all the rules, and sometimes I hate that.”
“Me too.”
“But it’s ours.”
“It is.”
A trembling smile appears on her lips and I want to kiss it, but I refrain. “Where does it start?” She looks away from me and I have to chase her gaze. Blush coats her cheeks and I feel the rush of my own blood under the surface. “Where does it start, Layla?”
“Well, see, it starts at midnight when I saw you on the bench, the one by the tree with white flowers.”
I lick my lips, stunned. I never expected her to say that. I never even knew that. It’s the same spot where I proposed to Hadley.
We’re soul mates, Thomas.
I’ve never believed that until now…or maybe I did, but I’ve never seen the sheer, magnificent evidence of it. I press my body against her even more, trying to fuse our skins together, and her breath hitches.
My voice shakes when I answer her. “Yeah, I know that spot.”
“So the story starts when one night I see you there and you look lonely, kind of like me. I think that you need a friend.”
“And then you discover that I’m an asshole.”
She bites her lips to keep from smiling but her eyes twinkle. “Yes. But then you kiss me.”
This time, I can’t stop the roll of my hips against hers, making her whimper. She feels hot, even through the layers of clothing. Our bodies are aroused and ready, waiting for our hearts to catch up.
“What happens when I kiss you?”
“I…I feel like you could eat me alive with your mouth and I’ve never felt that before. I’ve never been anyone’s sustenance, and I want to keep going forever.”
I want to do that to her now. I want to eat her up, fill my mouth with her taste. It’s been long, so very long. I’m hungry. Starving. For her. But not yet. Not yet.
“Yeah, but in a classic move, I fuck it all up.”
“You do, but you don’t stop there. You keep fucking up, until I can’t take it anymore.”
I laugh as my eyes sting. “I’m a piece of shit. Are you sure I’m the hero of this story?” Fuck, I just want to touch her. Just once. That’s all I want. I won’t even ask for anything else. I just want to touch her and tuck her into my body and hold her, but I don’t dare move my hand. I won’t take what she isn’t willing to give—even though it kills me, even though everything burns.
“But you make up for it.”
“Do I?”
Have I done enough? Have I shown her enough? I don’t know. I don’t know if she realizes how much I love her. I haven’t said those words yet, but I want her to know. I want her to see it in my eyes because I bleed with it, I burn with it, and for the first time in my life, I don’t mind it. I wouldn’t mind it if she burned me alive or destroyed me. I’d keep on going. I’d keep on loving her.
I hear the thud of her notebook falling, and in the next second, she’s the one touching me. She puts her hands on my cheeks and presses back into me with her hips. I shudder, my cock going full mast, and my forehead meets hers.
“Yes, Thomas. You do. You have. God, please tell me you know that. Please tell me you think I’m a bitch for making you wait this long.”
“Layla,” I warn.
“Then you’re just stupid.” She goes on her tiptoes and hooks one leg around my waist. “You won’t even touch me, you idiot. You’re still not touching me. If I move back for whatever reason, you back off like it’s you I’m running from. You pick me up from fucking college when I can very easily ride the subway like every other person in New York. You stay up all night, helping me study over Skype because you think I don’t want you in my apartment. You won’t even ask to come over. It’s frustrating.”
There was a time when her desperation made me feel powerful, but now I admit that I was just as desperate for her. It still holds true. “You said you didn’t know what to do with it, so I’ve been waiting.”
“Well, I’m tired of your waiting, you moron.”
She jumps and hooks her other leg around my hips. The move is so familiar. So many times she has simply wound her limbs around me, like we have always belonged together, like it’s always been that simple.
“I even talked to Nicky about it,” she tells me with mischief in her voice.
“About what?”
“That you’re taking too long. That I love him so, so much. And I...” She bites her lip and stares at me through her lashes, making my heart skip a beat. “I know I’m not the best person to take care of a baby. I mean, I’m kinda crazy and impulsive, and... But I love him so much and I’ll—”
“Hey, you’re my everything. Every goddamn thing, Layla,” I say, my voice wrapped up in gravel and a million swelling emotions that taste like tears. “Besides, love is enough. It has to be. We can figure out the rest.”
Maybe it is simple, being together. I want to tell her, but she beats me to it. “I love you.”
I sigh, and it feels like the very first time. It’s the first time I’ve breathed. “I fucking love you too.”
She beams even though her eyes are wet. “So that’s what it feels like.”
“What?”
“When someone says those three words back to you. I’ve always wondered.”
“Technically, it was five words.”
“I’ll take them. It’s even better. Fucking makes everything so much more…amazing and epic.” She rubs her core over my cock and I can’t keep the groan inside this time. Smiling, she closes her eyes and breathes me in. “I feel like I can walk on water.”
“Yeah? Don’t do that, though. That’s not real, baby.”
“You’re such an ass.” Opening her eyes, she chuckles and tightens her hold around my body. It’s getting harder to support her weight without my arms. They are plastered to the wall, one last barrier between us. I should let go of the brick and wind them around her, but something is holding me back.
“Are you going to kiss me any time soon?”
“Tell me. Give me the words, Layla.”
She smiles as a single tear falls down her cheek. “You don’t have to wait for me anymore, Thomas. You never have to wait.”
That’s when my arms come off the wall and touch her. One hand goes to her ass, the other to the back of her head, and I kiss her.
This time it’s me with an epiphany: I’ve always been brave. I just needed to look deeply into myself. I was brave enough to bring a child into this world. I was brave enough to love him with all my heart and soul, knowing that life is transient and fleeting.
There are many things uncertain in life. There are many hurdles still to overcome. Our love will grow and change, and we’ll change with it. But today, I make a promise to myself.
I’ll always be brave rather than fearless.
I’ll make my own rules rather than follow them.
And I’ll love. I’ll always love my violet-eyed girl, Layla Robinson.
THE END
Thank you so much for taking this journey with me. Thomas and Layla are very special to my heart and I hope you enjoyed them. This story was challenging to me on many levels. I am not a poet, and I tried to write poetry with it. Trust me, I feel Layla’s pain. I’ve tried to write Anesthesia so many times but couldn’t. Thomas is too much of a genius for me to channel his words. I imagine him to be a hybrid of Stephen Dunn and Hemingway.
Not over Thomas & Layla yet?
Spoiler Group
Exclusive Playlist
If you want to chat with me and get exclusive sneak peeks of my projects, come be a Saffronite.
Would you like to know
when I release a new book? Sign up here to be notified.
I have so many, many people to thank with this one. Writing is solitary but publishing a book and being an author take a lot of people. I am thankful for each one of you. Thanks for being as crazy as I am.
My husband: The person who sees me in action. He has survived so many of my writer moods and tantrums. Ever since I started writing four years ago, I’ve become more sensitive. I laugh too much. I cry too easily. I get mad at the slightest things. My husband has been with me throughout. I love him with all my heart. Thank you! And sorry for making you format this TWICE.
My parents: Thank you for always believing in me. Special thanks to my mom for pimping my books to all her friends. I love you, guys.
My Green Indies turned Fabulous Four: Suzanne, Bella and Kim are my oxygen. I can’t imagine this journey without you. Thank you so much for being there for me, sharing advice, your happy moments, your woes. I love you guys so much!
Renate Thompson: My critique partner and the one who listens to every single one of my doubts. I can’t believe how far we’ve come from when we started. You are not only a fabulous critique partner, you are a wonderful writer too. I can’t wait for the day when your book comes out and wows the book world. Thank you for being my person.
Serena McDonald: I love you, woman! You’re one of those rare gems that shine the brightest. THANK YOU for being my friend, for your passion for the book world, for your sass and sweetness, for holding my hand through this. I hope you know that you’re stuck with me. #Saffrena for life.
My beta readers: Mara White, Sunny Borek, Haylee Thorne, Ari Purkayastha and Faith Andrews. Thank you for reading my work in a rough form and offering your advice. Where would I be without you guys? You are totally stuck with me for life.
Ella Fox: For single-handedly saving this book!
Fellow authors: I’ve met so many great people in the book world who have offered their invaluable advice, support, and inspired me. THANK YOU to all of them.
Saffronites: This is my happy place in all of the world wide web. You guys rock with all your support and sex talk. I couldn’t do this without you so THANK YOU for being sexy and awesome. I love you guys!
Writer of bad romances. Coffee Addict. White Russian Drinker. Imaginary Ballet Dancer and poetess. Aspiring Lana Del Ray of the book world.
I’m a big believer in love (obviously). I believe in happily ever after, the butterflies and the tingling. But I also believe in edgy, rough and gutsy kind of love. I believe in pushing the boundaries, darker (sometimes morally ambiguous) emotions and imperfections.
The kind of love I write about is flawed just like my characters. And I hope by the end of it, you’ll come to root for them just as much as me. Because love, no matter where it comes from, is always pure and beautiful.
If you ever get a hankering to talk about books or love, you can find me here:
Newsletter
Facebook
Saffronites (FB Reader’s Group)
Twitter
Pinterest
Instagram
BookBub
A War Like Ours © 2017 by Saffron A. Kent
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
First Scarlet Rose Edition, 2017
Print ISBN: 978-1-5092-1364-1
Digital ISBN: 978-1-5092-1365-8
James splayed his fingers, taking hold of my entire cheek. He stared into my wet eyes. “Let the pain take over. Let it own you, turn you inside out. Let it win, Madison. That’s the only way to stop this, to stop feeling.”
Yes, I wanted that. I wanted it to stop. Was that why I wanted him to hurt me, dominate me?
Touching the hot skin of his forearms, tracing the bumpy veins and coarse hair, I whispered, “Show me how.”
His eyes took in my entire body, an urgent sweep of perusal. They grew heated, as if filled with angry, unforgiving lust. Biting rage and passion, glinting like that of an animal. My back arched without my say-so, and my heaving breasts pressed against the planes of his chest. I clawed at his forearm, unable to stop myself. Apparently, I was a scratcher. It was soothing. Who knew? A melody of sharp nails and stinging skin. I looked at his lips. If I took one more step toward him, I’d touch them, taste them, taste the hint of his blood.
I didn’t know who made the first move. But suddenly his hot lips were on mine and I was kissing him, sucking them into my mouth.
He shuddered, and I was right there with him. That first contact felt life-changing, breath-stealing, colorful behind my closed eyes. His taste was just as it should be, masculine, minty with a touch of tart apple juice and metallic blood. I fisted his shirt to bring him even closer. Hard planes of his chest cut into the soft curves of mine.
His arms wrapped around my waist and squeezed tightly, to the point where I filled his mouth with the last of my breath, moaning. It felt like I was dying, and my skin came alive, buzzing and humming. He crushed my breasts against his rough, angular pecs. The pain fanned my need for him. I bit his lower lip, and he growled, biting me back. He pushed me until my back thumped against the tree.
All while feeding on my lips, he encircled my neck with one hand and tugged my hair with the other. The rough texture of his fingers drove me crazy, making me scratch his shirt-covered back as I locked my thighs around his waist. I pushed my core into his. It was wet, starving for him. Growling, he dug his torso into mine, making me feel his cock through his pants, big and hard.
I’d forgotten how good it could be with a man, how rough and unpolished. It’d been four years since I’d experienced something so dynamic and feral. I never wanted it to end. I didn’t know how long we latched on to each other’s lips, sucking, stroking, lapping, making sounds of pleasure or pain. Who the fuck cared? I didn’t. Then his lips were gone, and I wheezed in a breath. I didn’t like it. I didn’t want to breathe. I wanted him. I looked at him and found him staring at my lips, his eyes wild and drowsy at the same time. A moment later his weight was gone, too. Why did he move away? I wanted him back.
He wiped the wetness from his lips—the wetness I gave him—with the back of his hands, and my arousal disappeared into the night. “This can’t happen again.”
BUY NOW
AMAZON BARNES & NOBLE KOBO GOOGLE PLAY BOOKSTRAND THE WILD ROSE PRESS
“What’s your name?” he asks me.
“Can we just dance?” I deflect. I’m not looking to start anything; an anonymous dance is all I want tonight. I’m never going to see this guy again, so exchanging names and getting to know each other is pointless.
He nods, not put off by my refusal to tell him my name. His blue eyes stare into mine, and I am hypnotized. His intense gaze sets my body on fire, and his lips—God, they’re full. As he bites his lower lip, I get the urge to bite it, too. I watch those lips curve into a knowing, sexy grin then my gaze moves from his mouth to his eyes and I feel myself flush. Electricity sparks hot between us, and my body feels like a live wire.
His big hands splay across my back and he leans down to talk directly into my ear. “Can I kiss you?”
I nod and lean up to meet his mouth with mine. Soft—his lips are so soft. His fingers thread into my hair and he pulls me even closer. My eyes flutter shut and I’m lost, my world reduced to the feel of his lips pressing into mine, gently at first, then hungrily.
His tongue licks against my lips and I open my mouth, our tongues tangling. My fingers find their way up his neck and I allow myself to touch his face. Mmmm, his stubble is soft. God, everything about this guy feels good. We kiss and kiss and I feel boneless, breathless. I’m clutching at him and he’s gripping me tightly. It’s like his mouth is a magnet pulling me to him.
He makes me forget that we’re in a crowded club. That I’m a respectable physician in charge of a department. That I don’t n
eed a man to be happy. That I usually feel as if I’m juggling a million pieces in the air every day and if I don’t stay on top of everything, all the pieces will come tumbling down. I forget everything; his kiss melts it all away.
Instead, I feel…. alive. Surrounded by this strong man, in his arms, practically fused to his mouth, I feel…safe. Electric and desired. Judging by the size of the erection rubbing my stomach from behind his jeans, he is as turned on as I am. We grind into each other, and his heart beats so fast I can feel it thump against my chest.
Soon enough, our bodies start to move in a way that mimics sex. His hands skim down my body, from my hips to my bare legs. His touch is hot, waking up each of the nerve endings in its path. He squeezes my thighs then starts trailing his fingers up again, feeling my bare skin. Up and up, his fingers reach the hem of my dress, and he inches it higher, exposing more skin. Both of his hands end up just under my ass, touching the elastic of my underwear.
Oh, God. I’m so wet. Just one inch farther and he’ll be able to feel what he’s doing to me. I feel his groan rather than hear it, the vibration in his throat a pained sound. He rests his forehead against mine and closes his eyes, hands still touching me, toying with the edges of my panties.
“Can I touch you?” he rasps into my ear.
I should push him away. I should be appalled that a total stranger wants to feel me up in the middle of a crowded dance floor. I should disentangle myself from him right now and leave.
But I don’t want to.
BUY HERE
The Unrequited Page 30
