CHAPTER SEVEN
Sean
Well this just got really fucking interesting.
I’m rarely shaken or intrigued. I may not be a good man, but one thing I am is an honest man.
So I’ll admit that hearing my little dove’s name was Layla, coupled with her pushing me into the cooler wall after she came all over me, shook me to my very core and definitely intrigued the fuck out of me.
She has no idea how close I was to hiking up her skirt and claiming her like a fucking animal right then and there.
Her fire is an invitation that I won’t ignore, only my resolve managed to stop me.
I will fuck her. But the first time I sink into that tight, needy cunt I want her to be able to unleash the wild side that I’m now positive is living within her, and she can’t do that in the back of a restaurant full of people.
Layla.
The name on loop that pulled me through my worst moments.
The lyrics I hear every single time I remember lying in the dust, looking up at the lone laughing dove on top of our mutilated Humvee.
My fucking saving grace. I don’t question why her existence lines up with my past. I don’t believe in fate, destiny or whatever you want to call it, because fate isn’t quantifiable.
But I do believe in the chemical and physical connection between two souls and mine is most certainly connected to hers.
Of that, I’m positive.
I watch her now as the bar begins to empty out a little. My men left but I’ve stayed the extra hour until close, slowly sipping my bourbon right at the end of her bar.
When I came back from the cooler five minutes after her, she glanced up at me, perfectly put together and dismissive.
Perfectly poised, aside from the flush of her cheeks and the glassy look in her eyes that gave away that she had just come all over my fingers with that heated look in her eyes and those moans on her pouty lips.
Something about this woman hating that she wants me just fucking makes my dick hard.
The combination feels like my undoing, but I want more of it.
I want all of her. I don’t know where she comes from, who her family is, what she likes, what she hates, what drives her or what turns her on, aside from fear because that’s already apparent.
But I will find out. I have no choice but to now.
She’s a knot I need to untie, a mystery I feel the need to solve.
Covered in ink with a penchant for danger.
Cocky and standoffish, yet trembling with want.
A caged little rebel without her cause, because she simply hasn’t discovered what her cause is yet.
I breathe deep with satisfaction as this challenge presents itself. I never doubt my gut, and in this case I already know I’m right. My little dove is about to find out that I am her cause.