Chapter 14
Fourteen
“The battery on your key was flat.”
Though Adrian did his best to maintain his smile, Laila kept blinking back, her feet taking her a few stumbling steps toward him.
“What?” The question fell from her lips limp and breathy, and she extended a hand, to which he dropped the key into.
“Easy mistake.” He gave a matching ‘easy’ shrug, largely because her open expression of disbelief sent him off-kilter. “I figured the ignition or car battery might have gone but thought to test the path of least resistance first.”
She shook her head and tapped the same hand clutching at her keys to her forehead. “Argh, all it took was replacing a tiny key battery? I feel like such an idiot.” She lowered her hand, brows squished together in an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry for taking over your night and not thinking to check the fudging key.”
He jutted his chin toward her open laptop. “You’ve got other things on your mind. It happens to the best of us.”
He peered over to the kitchen, where he’d just cooked another meal for this little family, then to Whitney at his side and still smiling up at him, as though she’d been the one to straighten out the key fiasco. An adorable rascal if ever there were one.
Gratitude washed over his skin in a soft, warm wave. That he got to experience Laila’s home and to help in her hour of need. Being a bit of a loner, he rarely felt needed. Not in any personal sense, anyway. And that she’d trusted him tonight. That meant something. At least to him. That she had faith in him around her daughter. That, on top of everything else, he’d had a real hoot just visiting in their little world…
Laila twisted around and her gaze aligned with her laptop on the table, her slowed movements hinting at an uncertainty he, too, shared.
In his hours here, she’d barely paused her tapping at her laptop long enough to pin much attention his way. Now that she turned back to him and held him in her scrutiny. Now that he’d served his purpose and fixed her car, his place here seemed suddenly less certain.
Not just in her home. In her life and perhaps in Harlow in general.
This wasn’t his town. This was his work. But this place and its people were everything to her, and each interaction with him begged a question. Something beyond any issues with Whitney and her potential to grow attached to him. Laila had taken a risk on another man, Whitney’s father, and to this day still carried the consequences of that bad bet.
And still, with every interaction, something grew between them.
But what exactly? Friendship? Respect? The beginning of something so much more? Whatever it was, he wanted to make taking a chance on him worth her risk. He wanted to prove he was more than a random stranger who’d barged into her life unannounced. And at the same time, he had little clue what his future entailed, so maybe he was exactly that.
Am I being unfair and hoping for too much?
She seemed more composed than moments ago, her gaze steady and a soft smile lifting the edges of her lips—an unexpected reminder of her small ambush-style kiss by the fence the other day.
I’m not the only guilty party here.
A quick chuckle broke from him at that realization, and he decided right then that this moment alone would be enough.
“It’s getting a bit late.” Laila extended her free hand out to her daughter, who gravitated closer to her mother as if by instinct. “Time for me to take a break and get Whit to bed, she needs help to fall asleep, so I’ll need to go with her for a bit. I can release you from our house if you’d like?”
Though she held a lighthearted smile, the tension around her eyes didn’t seem so sure; a doubt Ramos would leverage since her offered exit strategy made his stomach feel heavy and hollow. “I think I’ll stick around, if that’s okay with you?”
Her eyes extended off a small glint and she gave a small nod. Even as she pulled Whitney down the hall, Whitney peered over her shoulder to him with a frown, clearly not a fan of goodbyes or bedtime. Except, for a quick moment Laila peered back too, a wide smile on her face.
He worked hard not to make his return smile look too idiotic and then set about turning for the kitchen where the stack of dishes left from dinner waited for him. Meanwhile, Whitney’s chatter sailed over from what sounded like an echoey bathroom, her words distorted, like perhaps she was brushing her teeth.
Things got quiet after that, and with the dishes done, he picked up Whitney’s toys distributed across multiple spots in the living area and dropped everything back into a large, fabric-covered box already containing other toys.
The soft click of a door preceded Laila’s re-entry into the room. Her silence and lack of steps once she entered caused him to turn and face her.
Her mouth hung slightly open, and her stare flicked from some random point in the room to meet his. “You tidied?”
Not wanting to make a big deal of his efforts, he dropped another toy into the box and shrugged. “If you’re almost done with your assignment, I’ll stick around a while so we can chat afterward.”
“I have maybe another hour or so to go.” Her brows lowered and a small frown pulled her lips into a straight line. “Are you sure you want to stay?”
“I’ve seen you through this long, might as well see how this all ends.”
She laughed and headed to her laptop. “Hopefully, not in tears.”
He strolled over to the couch. “Well, then, please tell me you’ve been hitting SAVE occasionally.”
She laughed again, louder this time. “This isn’t my first rodeo, kid.”
She took a seat, her smile lingering on him a moment longer before she focused on her work again. Meanwhile, he settled on her couch and pulled out his phone, accepting a break from his own work to read the rest of the science-fiction novel he’d started yesterday.
A comfortable and calming quiet took over with the two of them centered on their own tasks, with the knowledge that Whitney slept peacefully down the hall. The hour passed quickly, before Laila’s excited voice cut through the quiet. “I’m about to hit SEND. Are you ready?”
Her attention snapped from the computer, over to him, her eyes sparkling an exuberant blue. Her mood rubbed off on him and he sat a little taller, offering her a resolute nod. “Go for it.”
At that, she raised a hand high in the air and made a slow show of descending a pointed finger upon her laptop’s trackpad, before a soft clicking sound hinted she’d sent her assignment.
She took her hand back and slumped back in her chair with a deep sigh. “Want some tea?” Her gaze rejoined his, a little more serious now. “I’m so worked up, I need tea.”
He rose to his feet and strode closer, following her to the kitchen, holding back from offering to make the tea because his help outside of emergencies seemed to only add extra weight to her discomfort. “Tea sounds good.”
“Thanks for staying.” She clicked her kettle on and turned to him, her back leaned into the counter and her arms crossed. “I’m sure you had better things to do with your evening.”
“No.” He stood just across from her and shook his head, that one word seeming to hold about all the explanation needed—which was none at all.
Laila’s smile dropped and her gaze fell still on him, her shoulders drawing up and in, the firm line of her lips soon crumpling into a decidedly wobblier shape and motion.
“I’m sorry.” A tear rolled down her cheek and she quickly used the heel of her hand to swipe it away. “This is so embarrassing.”
Her focus fell, as if she couldn’t bear to look his way anymore, her next words sounding choked and tinny. “I’m so used to dealing with this stuff alone and then there you were tonight, and I hate—” She thrust out a hand in his direction but seemed unable to finish her sentence.
Though a part of him said to give her space, he nevertheless sprung forward and took her hand, tugging her into his arms. “And I said it was fine.”
“I know. I know you did.” She choked on more sobs and her shoulders shook beneath his hands, thicker tears pouring heavy over the light dusting of freckles on her cheekbones, her sudden shift from excitement over getting her work done, to this … This uncontrolled outpouring. With the sense that all she’d held on to broke loose now the worst was over, and she had room to process.
“We went on one date and I don’t want you to have to deal with the mess that is my everyday life.” She leaned back a little and finally lifted her gaze to him. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this. All of this. You’re probably only looking for fun times and flirty chats, and here I am, already lumping you with babysitting and chores. Everything about this situation is pathetic.”
Though her gaze veered away again, he raised his voice a little, vying for her full attention. “Hey. Look at me.”
He waited until she did just that. “There’s nothing pathetic about you trying to make things better for yourself and Whitney. And if you really think what I walked into tonight was a ‘mess,’ you need to stop a second and think about who you’re talking to.”
“You mean, because you’re Dean’s old war buddy?” Her eyes narrowed on him, especially as he shrugged. “You’re really comparing my house to a war zone?”
He stayed silent, but yeah, that was what he meant.
“Oh, Jesus.” Her shoulders shook with laughter beneath his hands, even as new tears rolled down her cheek. “Now I really do feel pathetic.”
But the new light in her eyes contradicted that claim, and she dipped her head forward and rested her forehead to his chest, relaxing a little.
“You’ve been holding it together all afternoon”—he ran a hand over her hair and held her tighter—“this is just your emotions coming out. You’re another step closer to where you want to be, Laila Egan.”
She nodded in a series of quick and repeated movements, as though her emotions still had a hold on her, but keeping silent helped. So, he rubbed his palm over her back in soothing circles and did the talking instead. “In all honesty, tonight was a treat for me. A change in the usual way of things. And looking after one little girl for a few hours and swapping a key battery was a cakewalk.”
“You also cooked. Twice. ” She lifted her focus to him, eyes watery, but her energy less frantic. “This was too much. I asked too much.”
“Cooking is another cakewalk, and for once, I wasn’t doing it just for me.” He took his hand and nudged her chin up to him. “See, one woman’s ‘mess’ was this man’s opportunity, and…”
He leaned in and dropped a brief, light kiss to her lips. “I can handle it.”
A silence drew out where he leaned back to gauge her reaction. Where she said and did nothing but look at him, as though she sought to figure out things that couldn’t be “figured.” Trust wasn’t something one puzzled through. Nor could he ever ask or demand it of her. Trust simply came in time. Even more so with this woman.
Her frazzled energy settled some more, and she sank into his hold, so he lowered his tone and reiterated, “I can handle it.”
The confused strain between her brows slipped away and she lifted both hands to his face. “Thank you.”
Her softer tone enveloped him. Not wanting to damage her trust, he closed his eyes against the uninvited wave of desire already swallowing him. Only, the heat of her breath brushed the side of his neck and his heart near burst at the lightest touch of her lips right there.
He tilted his head back and tried not to groan. Her body was pressed so close to his and her kisses failed to stop along the side of his neck. She tugged him down to her level, where her mouth traveled up to the corner of his jaw and across his cheek toward his lips.
That’s when his hands snapped free of her shoulders and he allowed himself to cup possessively at her face, crushing his lips to hers and lifting her onto the kitchen counter, kissing her with all the fire already consuming him. If not for the chance of her daughter walking out to find them, he’d take Laila right here and now. Instead, he claimed a full and final fill of her lips, then used his last shred of willpower to pull away.
“Tell me you want more, Laila.” His voice dragged out rough, gravelly, and unrecognizable. With all her strength and raw emotion, he’d never wanted a woman so much, and now he couldn’t bear the thought that the next moments might end in any other scenario than having her under him. “Please. Tell me you want more.”
Tension gripped low in Laila’s body and her gaze stilled on Ramos. He wanted an answer. Wanted to hear that she wanted him. More precisely, wanted him now with her body and in her bed. So much time had passed since she’d last been with a man. That last time with Mike, and in a stage in their relationship so doused in negative sentiments. She’d simply gone through the motions of being with him in the naive hope that one day the relationship would recover. Clearly that hadn’t happened.
And now, here stood Ramos, in a moment so not like that last time. Where need pulsated through her, and all she had to do was give a resounding, “yes.”
Her overriding nerves made every muscle weak and shaky, and somehow that weakness felt good enough for her to offer a subdued nod. As always, Ramos read her well and dimmed his intensity by drawing in a softer kiss, his grip on her thighs gentle, as he wrapped her legs around him and lifted her off the counter.
She wanted words to break the tension, but all she produced was a light giggle, where she curled her fingers into his thick hair, while he navigated the corridor and guessed correctly where her bedroom lay.
And even as he found her bedroom, his passionate gaze held hers, and made her heart thunder with anticipation. Especially when he lowered her to the bed and pressed his weight onto her.
His kisses grew hungry again, strong hands brushing down her body with sure strokes that culminated in him tugging her jeans away. The sensation of hot, hard man over her left her senses exploding one-by-one. Even while she pulled her gray t-shirt away, his lips kept on finding hers. All she had on was her simple black, cotton underwear, but the fire in his dark eyes held her with an air of divinity. Like she was special and sacred. When for years, she’d felt anything but.
He melted her sense of self-consciousness. Surely a man as beautiful and alluring as him had his pick of young women with bodies not dented from motherhood. But no, he swept his touch over the curve of her waist, down the wider bulge of her hip, exploring her with delicate finesse. His gaze eventually fused with hers, and his next raspy words stole at her breath. “You’re extraordinary.”
Her heart squeezed and then leapt in her chest—startled in his admiration—that for this one moment she could be more than someone’s mom. She could be a woman in her own right.
His praise had her surging up to meet him, had her hands working instinctively under his black t-shirt to the firm heat of his skin, where she sighed and proceeded to strip his chest bare, garnering his needy groan.
He shucked off his heavy jeans and pulled out his wallet from the back pocket, unfolding the thing to produce a condom, which he placed on the bedside table. Next, he growled and crept closer, only stopping when his lips met her collarbone, and his heavy hand took possession over her left breast.
She arched into him, pleading for more, and he kneaded her there, the weight of him between her thighs sending delectable shivers down her spine.
And still, she wanted more. Oh, yes, she wanted so much more. And his touch delivered. Tugging away her underwear, he caressed her sex, a surge of sensation forcing her to buck against him in an inescapable dance between desire and fear. Fear that being with Ramos may be more than she could handle.
But he’d already shown signs of being patient and accepting, so she focused on surrendering to this moment. With each of her slow and weighty breaths, her body warmed with a fire she hadn’t felt before. She dared to reach for him. To take his thick and heavy length in her hand, seeking to affect him in the same way he did her.
He wrenched his lips from her with a frustrated hiss, catching her hands and pinning them either side of her head. The pace of this moment increased as he collected and rolled on the condom. A man in a hurry to stake his claim.
In all honesty, she didn’t want slow either. Not this time. She wanted the thrill of succumbing to spontaneity, which was exactly what she got as he plunged into her in one firm and decisive stroke.
Years of involuntary celibacy caught up to her in a moan of pleasure and pain, his pupils dilating in a question, though she rose to capture his lips with hers, kissing away the uncertainty and whispering, “More.”
From there, his movements intensified, and she sank into the sheets, relishing each thrust. He seemed to feed off her desire, his breaths ragged as he plunged into her, over and over and over again.
Each stroke built her need and forced her to arch into him, and she teetered on the brink. Teeter as she did, she subdued any cries of pleasure so as not to wake Whitney, her restraint only adding to the sense of this being a deliciously forbidden moment.
Adrian’s hips rolled against hers and he took her with unforgiving force, her pleasure swelling like a flooding dam, overwhelming her senses and pushing her to gasp for air between each soul-shattering and stifled moan.
Bliss. For the first time in forever she felt unrestrained bliss. Her heart raced and her body shuddered, and a joy-filled sigh broke from her lips, as Ramos plunged into her one last time. He found his release and kissed her through the indulgent ebb of her desire.
She savored the beads of sweat over his brow and the spent flush over his cheeks. Stranger still, her body missed him the moment he pushed away. Even though he still lay at her side. Even as he pulled her into his arms and pressed soft kisses to her forehead.
“You’re tired, Mi Amor.” His chest rose and fell, and he stroked hair from her temple, while mutual reverence seemed to take over.
This felt good, but all good things ended eventually. Maybe she could be okay with that.
His thumb stroked a gentle line over her cheekbone, and he kissed her once again, like he read her concerns and sought to quell them. “Sleep now. I’ll see you in the morning.”