The Marriage Game

by Sara Desai

  Layla finished her jalebi and licked her lips. “Here I am.”

  “We need to talk.”

  “I need to wash my hands. I was on my way to the restroom when I saw you about to be swindled by Nira Auntie. I was tempted to leave you to her mercy, but she had that special glint in her eye that meant trouble.”

  “She doesn’t look like a swindler.” He followed Layla through the racks of clothes to the back of the store.

  “You obviously haven’t seen Dirty Rotten Scoundrels,” Layla said. “No one thinks a sweet old lady is going to soak them for all their cash.”

  His pulse kicked up a notch when they reached the restroom. This wasn’t going as planned. “I shouldn’t have left you at my apartment the way I did,” he blurted out. “Royce had a layover and asked to meet at the office at five thirty A.M. I didn’t know how things stood between us, so I took the easy way out.”

  Layla pushed open the door. “I got the message when I woke up alone and came into the office to discover my designs in the trash covered with horrible comments. But that’s just how things roll with me. I have an uncanny ability to pick the wrong guys.”

  Sam leaned against the doorframe while she washed her hands in the sink. “That wasn’t me; it was Royce. He’s brilliant at what he does but he lacks empathy and basic social skills. After I saw what he’d done, I put the papers in the trash hoping they’d be cleared away before you saw them. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

  She studied him in silence as she dried her hands. “I don’t know why, but I believe you.”

  He let out a sigh of relief. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “I’m just used to bad hookups. Some of them would leave right after we had sex, or they’d call a cab to send me home before I even put on my clothes.”

  “Maybe you picked those guys because they were safe,” he suggested. “There was no risk of getting emotionally involved with them. No chance of loving them and losing them the way you lost your brother.”

  “That makes sense. I never thought of it that way.” She leaned against the sink. “Is Royce back for good? What about the office?”

  “Don’t worry about Royce,” he promised, although he had no idea what he was going to do. With an airtight lease and the importance of the location to the Alpha Health Care pitch, there was no way Royce would give up the office. “I’ll figure something out.”

  “Does that mean we’re still playing the game?”

  “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Are you still planning on meeting the rest of the suitors on your father’s list? I can’t be objective anymore. I’ll hate them all.”

  A pained expression crossed her face. “I need the office, Sam. I can’t just walk away. I’m not making enough money to pay rent, and my dad was going to let me use it for free. Working above the restaurant also means I can help out my family when they need me. And my aunties have been giving that address to people looking for work.”

  Sam needed the office, too. For Nisha. For justice. For his own redemption. But he didn’t want to think about it right now, didn’t want to deal with the complication. He wasn’t interested in playing the game if it meant either of them would have to leave. He couldn’t imagine not seeing Layla every day. Something had changed for him last night. He’d had a glimpse into the life of a man who was worthy of a woman like Layla. He wanted a chance to explore it, and he didn’t want to waste any time.

  After a quick look around to make sure they were alone, he walked into the restroom and locked the door.

  “What are you doing?”

  Coming up behind Layla, Sam brushed her hair over one shoulder, baring the slender expanse of her neck. “I want you,” he whispered.

  “Here? In the restroom?” She turned to face him.

  “Here.” He wrapped one arm around her and pulled her close. “Now.” He nibbled the shell of her ear, tracing the gentle curve with his tongue. “Tonight.” Skimming his lips down her neck, he breathed in the light, floral scent of her perfume. “Tomorrow.” He dropped little licks and nips along her bare skin. “And the next day. And the day after that.”

  Layla let out a breathy moan. “This isn’t a good idea, Sam.”

  “What are you afraid of?” He cupped her cheek, tilted her head back so he could stare into the warmth of her eyes. “Falling for me?”

  Her eyes slipped closed and she drew in a ragged breath. “Yes.”

  • 17 •

  LAYLA’S heart thudded in her chest. He was so handsome, so sexy. Their night together had been incredible. But when she’d woken up alone, she’d felt that same sick feeling she had every time she met someone new. She was done with men who couldn’t commit. She wanted something more, a deeper connection; a real relationship—even if it didn’t involve love. But she didn’t know if she could find it with Sam.

  Sam cupped her nape, his thumb stroking her cheek. He bent down until his lips were only a breath away. “You take care of everyone. Let me take care of you.”

  “How?”

  He gently cradled her face between his broad palms. Her lips parted with a sharp inhale and he pressed his mouth tenderly against hers.

  The softness of his kiss was unexpected. Hidden away in the restroom, with no chance of being discovered, she gave in to her desire.

  His fingers wove through her hair, and he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, his tongue sliding into her mouth with a promise of making all her sex-in-a-restroom fantasies come true.

  “How was that?” he murmured against her lips.

  “I don’t want to fall for you and lose you the way I lost Dev.”

  He tilted her head back, thumbs framing her face. “Trust me, Layla. I’m not going anywhere. But I won’t be able to sit through any more interviews with men who aren’t worthy of you. I won’t be able to be as restrained as I was with Baboo.”

  “You threatened to break his arms.”

  “I wanted to break his face.”

  She laughed. “That’s a little excessive, don’t you think?”

  “A little bit much was asking me to take him into the restroom for a premarital exam.”

  She liked this about Sam—his ability to understand her insecurities and use humor to ease her fears. Her hands slid over his shoulders and she leaned up to kiss him again.

  “I want you.” His tongue swept through her mouth, making her shiver. She’d enjoyed sex with the men she’d been with, but no one had wanted her with an intensity that took her breath away.

  “You’ve got me until someone needs to pee.”

  He gave a satisfied rumble, running his hands up and down her body. “Spread your legs.”

  And now, as if she weren’t already wet from being kissed and caressed until her nerve endings tingled, the dirty talking in that deep, dark rumble of a voice spiraled her body into overdrive.

  There was only one little problem.

  “Sam . . . I’m wearing—”

  “Not for long.” He yanked open her skirt and shoved it down her hips. But when his fingers slid between her thighs, searching for the edge of her panties, they just kept sliding.

  “What is this?” He backed away, studying her waist-slimming, tummy-tucking, thigh-squeezing, ass-lifting elastic shapewear with confusion.

  Layla pulled at the elastic waist and released it with a loud, skin-pinching snap. “I wear it when I go clothes shopping. It holds things in.” She hesitated. “And keeps things out.”

  Sam studied the garment. “Do I cut you out of it? I have a pocketknife.”

  “Nothing so drastic.” She looked down to hide her mortification. “It kind of . . . rolls.”

  A choking sound made her lift her head. Sam was leaning against the sink, fingers braced against his forehead, shaking with laughter.

  “Do you have any normal underwear?”

  “Of course I
do,” Layla huffed. “And stop laughing. It’s not funny. Obviously, I wasn’t expecting you to show up and seduce me in a restroom. If I had, I would have worn easy-access pants.”

  “I can’t think of any better way to show you how much I want you than by getting you out of that . . .”

  “Shapewear,” she offered.

  “You don’t need shapewear. You have a shape. You’re beautiful and all I can think about when I see you is how badly I want my hands on you.” He reached for her and she backed away.

  “There’s no sexy way to get this off me, so if you’re imagining some kind of striptease where I slowly peel it off, revealing my body inch by inch, just tuck that image away and replace it with opening a can of Pillsbury Crescent Rolls, or if you’re not familiar with that delicious treat, just imagine releasing any product that’s under pressure. Everything wants out at once.”

  Sam put a fist to his mouth like he was either deep in thought or fighting back his laughter. “What if we cut out a strategic access panel?”

  “Are you kidding? Do you know how much these things cost? Also, aside from the fact that I don’t allow sharp objects near my intimate parts, I can hardly walk around for the rest of the day with my nether regions on display for unsuspecting subway workers who might happen to be working underground when I walk over a grate.”

  “So what do we do?” Sam asked.

  “You’re just going to have to turn around, pretend I haven’t ruined the moment, and when I tell you it’s safe, you can resume where you left off.”

  Sam obediently turned away.

  “Naughty.” Layla glared at him in the mirror. “I see you peeking. Face the other wall.”

  “Your bossiness is turning me on.” Sam faced the blank wall.

  “I’m glad, because these clearly didn’t do the trick.” She rolled the shapewear over her tummy, grunting as she inched the elastic material over her hips. Sweat beaded on her forehead with the effort. This was, hands down, the most embarrassing moment of her entire life.

  “What’s going on over there? It sounds like you’ve decided to go ahead without me.”

  “If I tried that, I’d lose a couple of fingers from lack of circulation.” Layla leaned against the wall and took a deep breath.

  “Is that heavy breathing because you like my ass?” His voice was laced with amusement.

  Layla rubbed the sweat off her face with the bottom of her shirt. “You do have a nice ass, as your friend Karen so crassly pointed out, and I’m so desperate to get my hands on it, I am actually reconsidering my rule against sharp objects down below.” With another grunt she shoved the elastic over the widest part of her hips.

  “Do you need some help?”

  “I would honestly rather die.” She peeled the underwear down her thighs and pushed it, along with her skirt, down to her ankles. Leaning back against the wall, she patted her shirt against her body, trying to soak up the sweat.

  “Now do I get my present?”

  “There’s an additional complication.” Layla stared at her sandals. “This isn’t going the way it does in the movies.” She bent down to unbuckle the straps. “Next time you decide to surprise seduce me when I’m out, could you let me know in advance? I’ll wear a loose dress, a tearable lace thong, and a pair of flip-flops for quick, easy-access sex.”

  “Does this mean there’s going to be a next time?”

  She toed off her sandals and stepped out of her clothes. “All I know is that there had better be a this time, because I must have burned one thousand calories getting ready for you.”

  Sam spun around, his gaze raking over her half-naked body as he closed the distance between them. “Now, that’s a shape.”

  “You’re just horny and desperate to have some. Lucky for you, I’m ready to go. Getting that shapewear off was its own foreplay.” She grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pushed it up, her fingers gliding over the ripples of his abs and the hard planes of his chest. With an annoyed grunt, Sam reached up and ripped the T-shirt over his head, baring his chest for her viewing pleasure.

  “Oh God.” She pressed her lips to his firm, toned skin. “You look and taste better than my mom’s jalebis.”

  Sam grumbled his displeasure. “Will we always have to talk about your mother when we’re having sex?”

  “How about we don’t talk?” Her breath hitched when he slid a thick finger into her wet heat. Slow. Firm. Agonizingly delicious.

  “You’re so wet,” he murmured. “It really did turn you on.”

  “You turn me on.” She arched against him, pleasure rippling through her core. Sam pushed another finger inside, angling to brush against her sweet spot.

  “I thought you needed me, like right now,” she panted as he palmed her breast through her clothes.

  “I need to give you pleasure first.” His heated gaze trapped her, made her insides tighten.

  “So you’re a gentleman sex beast.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, ran her fingers through the softness of his hair. His shoulders were so broad, his neck corded with muscle. But unlike Harman’s steroid-enhanced physique, Sam’s perfect body was real.

  “I don’t feel like a gentleman.” His voice was deeper than normal, thick and hoarse. He teased her nipple to a peak through her clothes. “The things I want to do to you right now are as far from gentlemanly as you can get.”

  And yet, he was focused entirely on her body, her pleasure. “I think you could probably make me come with all the dirty things you say.”

  “Kiss me,” he demanded.

  “Now you’re the bossy one.”

  His strong fingers stroked their way to her core. “Say my name and kiss me.”

  “Sam.” She cupped his face and pulled him down, kissing him with fevered intent.

  A rumble of pleasure vibrated in his chest. “Say it just like that when I make you come.”

  “There’s that big ego again,” she said dryly.

  “You know what they say about a man with a big ego . . .”

  Laughter bubbled up inside her. How could sex be fun and hot at the same time? Were people supposed to laugh when they were making out? Jonas never laughed. Sex was an almost religious experience for him that involved soulful looks, intense gazes, and misquoted lyrics from his favorite songs. Before him, her boyfriends had been unremarkable, noteworthy only for their uniform dullness and rapid disappearance when the deed was done.

  “He wears big shoes?”

  “He has big hands.” He made good use of his big hands, teasing her until she was panting, not from fear, but from arousal, the thrill of being with a man who knew what he wanted, the danger of being discovered, and the sheer exhaustion of shapewear removal.

  “I want to taste you.” He dropped to his knees, and she saw her raw desire reflected back in his dark eyes. “Yes?”

  “Definitely, yes.” She threaded her hands through his hair as he kissed his way along her inner thigh, pulling him to where she wanted him to go.

  “Slowly, sweetheart. I want this to be good for you.”

  Most of the men she’d been with wanted it to be good for them. It was about their pleasure, their need. But Sam took his time, his mouth moving to her other thigh, teasing her with the sensual scrape of rough stubble on her sensitive skin, the heat of his breath on her flesh.

  “I can’t take any more,” she groaned.

  His mouth closed over the most sensitive part of her and he licked and teased, worshipping her until she was holding his hair so tightly her knuckles had turned white.

  Voices filtered through the door. Footsteps. Sam clamped his hands on her hips, holding her in place as his warm, wet tongue did things that turned her knees to jelly.

  “Look at me,” he whispered.

  She met his heated gaze, held it even when the footsteps faded away and his talented tongue sent her over the
edge in a storm of sensation. She clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her cry.

  Sam rose and stood in front of her, a slow, lazy smile on his lips. “Sweeter than I imagined.”

  “That was incredibly hot. Now, it’s your turn.” She reached for his belt.

  Sam gently moved her hand away. “This wasn’t about me.”

  Her forehead creased in confusion. “You said you wanted me. I deshapeweared, if that’s even a word.”

  “And watching you come was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” He picked up her clothes. “But I’m not like the guys who hurt you. I can get as much pleasure giving you pleasure as I do taking my own.”

  “Are you serious?” No way was he denying her. Yes, his oral skills were second to none, but that was just the warm-up. She was ready for the main event.

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t want to have sex?” She stared pointedly at the bulge below his belt.

  He hesitated, shifted his weight, cleared his throat. “I didn’t say that exactly.”

  “Sam?”

  He lifted a curious eyebrow.

  “Get naked.”

  * * *

  • • •

  TWENTY minutes later, Layla had to admit that Sam had filled all her wishes, and some she didn’t even know she had. Also, who would have thought that restroom mirrors were positioned so perfectly for viewing pleasure while holding on tightly to the sink? Or that running water could hide all sorts of sounds, from moans and groans to a soft scream?

  She pulled on her skirt while Sam straightened his clothes. There was no way she was going to go through the effort of putting on the shapewear again. She could survive a few hours going commando.

  “I guess this means I should cancel my date with Harman,” she said.

  “Only if you want him to live.” Sam pulled her into his arms and kissed her cheek, her jaw, her neck, and finally her mouth, igniting the fire inside her all over again. What was it about Sam that made her just want to drown in his kisses, the heat of his powerful body, and the strength of his arms?

  “We’d better go,” she said finally, tearing herself away. “Everyone will be wondering where we are.”