Chapter 3 - Layla
For some reason, I expect him to say he has to get home. To his wife because why wouldn’t a gorgeous, capable man have a wife, even if he has some gray creeping into his temples. Or for him to make another excuse.
Instead, Jace takes another bite of food and nods once.
“You’ll stay?” I ask softly.
He nods his head again and I swear I spot a smile playing on the corner of his lips. “I’ll take the guest room.”
We finish dinner as I try to stop focusing on how he eats, the way his mouth moves, the subtle way his jaw tighten with every bite. The low hum he makes when he likes a bite. It is ridiculous, how something so ordinary can feel so distracting. So warm.
It’s driving me insane. I lick my bottom lip and squeeze my thighs together, almost embarrassed that I’m this wet after just having dinner with him.
Would he make the same sounds while kissing me … while touching me … what if his mouth wandered and …
He stands up and I drop my fork, staring up at him. He looks me over and my whole face burns.
I open my mouth as Jace heads to the front door. “I thought you were staying.”
“I just need to get some things from home. Settle in. I’ll be back quickly,” he answers. At whatever expression is on my face, his eyes soften. “I’ll be here before you know it, Layla.”
The way he says my name makes my core tighten. I’m almost happy he walks out since my body is way too hot and I feel like I’m going to moan if I breathe too deeply.
Then it dawns on me. I never saw his truck outside.
Which means he walked here. In the snow.
And he did it without a heavy coat, like the weather barely matters to him.
The idea of him walking half a mile through the cold makes something flutter and tighten in my chest, and yet I am the one who feels overheated.
My nerves feel like they are wrapped in warm electricity, buzzing under my skin. I should be freezing, but instead I feel like I need a cold shower just to get back to normal.
Maybe I am coming down with something.
Or maybe this is just what happens when Jace is around.
Shaking my head, I head upstairs with my bags.
I put them down in my old bedroom, unchanged from the time I was sixteen.
I slowly undress, constantly glancing back at the door.
I don’t know if I’m expecting to hear Jace come back even though it’s only been five minutes, or if I’m hoping he’ll be there watching.
Get a grip! It hasn’t even been three hours, I chasten myself.
I get into the shower and take my time, trying to scrub my mind as much as I’m scrubbing my body.
I wash my hair, do a conditioning treatment while I shave, and pamper myself.
Even when I get out, I brush through my hair, rub lotion into my skin, and take my time.
It feels like it’s moving too fast and too slow.
But considering the mirror’s already un-fogged when I get dressed, I know I’ve taken at least an hour in total.
I look at myself in my flannel pajama pants and a comfortable T-shirt, then leave the bathroom.
Since my room is still chilly, I turn up the heater and still feel restless.
Clearly, I need something to turn my mind off.
A hot mug of chamomile tea sounds perfect, so I head downstairs to get one started. I hum to myself and start getting things ready when I hear footsteps. Turning suddenly, I find Jace there. He’s shirtless, only wearing pajama pants.
My brain comes to a dead stop. All I can do is stare at him, tracing every single muscle in his body, memorizing how he looks. Walking with purpose, like he owns the kitchen just because he’s in it. The calm my shower gave me is gone. I’m right back to horny and nervous.
“I dropped my things in the guest room. You weren’t around, so I figured you were still getting settled,” he says, voice easy, as if this situation is normal and not slowly melting me into the floor.
He walks by me to prepare a drink, his eyes lingering for just one extra second before he glances at my teabag soaking in the mug.
“Tea’s good for sleep,” he comments with approval that ripples across my body.
“Maybe not as good as other things …” I trail off.
I’m not sixteen anymore, I should have my hormones under control. I was sure that seeing him would end the crush, but looking at his dense, muscular body, his thick arms, all while hearing obvious praise roll off his tongue has me hot in a way I couldn’t have imagined years ago.
When he reaches for a mug and wraps his fingers around it, all I can imagine is his fingers on my breast, or sliding down my belly, between my thighs and … My whole body is vibrating, sparking with lust and near consuming desire that I only know one way to take care of.
“What do you mean?” he asks, confused despite a spark in his green eyes.
“You know what… I don’t think I need it tonight. Such a long drive. Thanks for staying,” I say quickly before retreating to my room, not wanting to let my thoughts run away with me.
Shutting the door isn’t enough. I don’t think running to the other side of the planet would be enough. I’d still feel his eyes on me. I’d still be tempted to reach out and trace the faint line of his abs across his tight stomach. My mouth would still be watering because of him.
I double check that I’ve locked the door, then lay in bed. I stare at the ceiling, refusing to put on a blanket since I’m sure the cold will help, but instead, the heater’s on full blast, reminding me of how hot Jace’s body is, how easy it would have been to push myself up against him.
The dull ache between my legs pulses with need that I only know how to satisfy myself thanks to porn and plenty of friends in college teasing me about being a virgin. I cup my breast through my shirt first, thinking of Jace’s calloused, dexterous hands.
If he can put an engine back together …
I pinch my nipple and imagine him holding me close. His low, rough voice fills my imagination. “So beautiful, grown up, wonderful.”
I barely swallow my moan, sure that it will give me away. My fantasy twists, it’s not Jace touching me, it’s Jace leaning against my door, ear pressed against the thin wood, touching himself while imagining what I’m doing. Wondering if I’m imagining him touching me instead.
My other hand slides under my pajama pants to tease my clit through my wet panties. The cotton clings to me like a lingering touch and I let out a soft moan. Every stroke of my fingers across my clit nearly drags his name from my soul, my heart, my deepest fantasies.
When I move my panties to the side and let my fingers slip across my wet clit and towards my entrance, I whimper his name. “Jace … please …”
In my fantasy, he pushes the door open to reveal himself stroking his cock. He moves closer, eyes focused on my hand. His raspy voice echoes in my head. “Show me, Layla. Show me everything.”
I kick off my pants, then spread my legs wide, showing him everything, how my fingers slowly push into my pussy and spread, how I like to curl my fingers while rubbing my thumb over my clit.
I show him everything until he pushes my hand away and takes over, lowering his head between my legs while watching me with those intense, beautiful green eyes and flattens his tongue across my clit while thrusting his thick fingers so deep.
“Jace!” I barely soften the sound of his name dragging from my throat in a needy groan as I come apart.
I bite my bottom lip as I buck against my hand again and again. When I finally drop back onto the mattress, I’m panting, hotter than ever, and can’t shake off the fantasy. I lick my lips and put my pants back on, sure that sleep is going to be a hollow dream.
Jace is in the house. We’re the only ones here and if he’s going to walk around shirtless and sexy, then maybe …
maybe there’s a reason why my crush won’t budge.
Maybe I can cross my fingers and claim a Christmas miracle that will put any and every Hallmark movie to shame.
Cause if I am already melting after half a day, the next days might finish me off entirely.