7. Layla
7
LAYLA
I lie in bed looking up at the tiny crack in the paint that’s formed over the last few weeks. It started small. Just a black dot that I thought might be a spot of mold. But since then, it’s grown larger, expanding out as though it’s trying to make it all the way to the wall.
Will a little paint fix it? Or is it a crack in the actual ceiling?
Geez, I need to calm down. Of course it’s just a small crack, and here I am about to have a nervous breakdown as I debate in my mind whether or not the entire apartment building is going to collapse around me.
I know what’s wrong.
Something’s eating at me. Gnawing at me like a splinter in my thumb that’s not yet ready to come out. I’ve been doing my best to ignore it, but my heart won’t let me.
I didn’t even want to confront Taylor last night for the second time. I was so nervous. I’d already asked him once if there was something bothering him, and he told me no. I asked him a second time, and he gave me the same answer. But for some reason, I still don’t believe him.
Is it something in his eyes? Something in the way he’s been holding me lately? Tighter, closer, like he thinks I’m going to just float away if he loosens his grip. Or like he expects to wake up one morning and find me suddenly gone from our bed.
Even the way he’s been making love to me has changed. He’s become much more sensual over the last couple of weeks. Not that I mind, of course. I love the passion. It’s just…different. I don’t know how to explain it. That’s what’s killing me. I know something is going on, and what’s worse is it feels as if Taylor is deliberately hiding it from me.
I’d hoped he would wake up hard next to me this morning and take me like he does so often, but he didn’t. He woke up before I did and went to take a shower alone. “I didn’t want to wake you up,” he called out when I yelled to him from bed.
He said he had to get in to work early today because of a big concrete pour. I pressed him and asked him if I could stop by after I got out of work, but he told me not to bother. That he’d just come back to the apartment when he was finished.
He always has an answer for everything.
He’s always right there when I need him, as if he’s reading my mind.
It’s wonderful, of course. In fact, it was one of the things that drew me to him when we first met. But it’s grown disconcerting as our relationship has grown. It’s like he knows everything about me–my wants, my needs, my favorite foods and activities–and I know absolutely nothing about him.
I’ve never even had a discussion with him about his family.
He’s never introduced me to a single one of his friends. And I don’t know where he actually works or where this construction site is.
It’s not as if our relationship hasn’t been great. It’s been amazing. We can’t keep our hands off each other; we eat together, we sleep together. And up until recently, I felt like I was making progress with my trust issues.
But Taylor’s behavior lately feels like a setback. I’ve retreated back into my head again. I’m worrying about betrayal, lies, and the foundation of what we’ve built together. And those worries have my heart aching when it’s normally glowing in a state of bliss.
Taylor is sharp, quick-witted, loving, and he makes me feel safe.
He’s strong and tall and carries an aura of confidence and protection with him.
But there’s also something mysterious that’s lurking underneath all those amazing qualities. Something that’s hiding, keeping itself unseen. And no matter what he says to me about our relationship being fine, I can’t help but feel like something terrible is about to happen.
I’m breathing heavily, and my heart is racing when I hear Taylor turn off the water and step out of the shower. At the sound of his heavy steps, I’m instantly thinking about his naked body wrapped in nothing but a towel. The familiar tingle swells between my legs as it always does when I’m around him. And when he walks into the bedroom and I get a view of his thick chest and washboard abs, the sensation only grows.
“Hey, sweet thing,” he says with a smile, casually leaning in to kiss my cheek. His lips send a flurry of sensation down my spine, igniting my nerves with anticipation and attraction. My breathing intensifies. My toes curl with want and desire. I’m helpless around him. If he spun me over right now and pinned me to the mattress with his cock, I would fully submit. And not only would I love every second of it, I’d be desperate for more.
But for some reason, he doesn’t do that this morning, and I’m left watching as he moves around the room, getting into his work clothes.
“Hey, babe. Can I ask you something?” I say slowly.
“You just did,” he teases.
I frown and throw my pajama bottoms at him. “Maybe this is too private, and I don’t want to come off as one of those girlfriends, but–”
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he cuts me off. “Just ask me.”
I take a deep breath. “Has Brandy ever tried to get back with you?”
Taylor pauses a moment from lacing up his boots, then looks back at me. I can’t tell if he’s perplexed or annoyed. He’s just so hard to read these days. After an uncomfortable moment, he shakes his head.
“No. Why?”
I shrug awkwardly. “No reason. I was just wondering.”
“She never has. And even if she did, I have her blocked.”
“You blocked her?” I ask. “Wow.”
This time he frowns at me. “ Wow? Why wow?”
Again, I shrug, feeling so cringe. “I dunno. She’s just so gorgeous, and I feel like most guys wouldn’t block their gorgeous ex. Just in case, you know?”
“In case what?” His smile is so patronizing as he looks down at me. “In case I want to phone her up for a booty call?”
I swallow hard and avert my eyes. “Well, when you put it that way…”
Taylor comes over and sits beside me on the bed. He pulls the sheets aside, exposing my legs, and places his hand on my thigh. He squeezes gently, but firmly, which is precisely how I would describe his overall personality.
Firm yet gentle.
“Let me tell you something, baby.” His voice is low and loving as he looks at me. Have I just been making a mountain out of a mole hill? “ You are way more gorgeous than Brandy.”
“Oh, stop!”
“I’m serious,” he says, slipping his hand up my shirt to cup my breast. “You just don’t see it. I do .”
“And that’s why you’re with me?” It’s a bratty response, but I’m feeling pouty and exposed right now. I just don’t know what to do or what to say.
“Yes.” He nods, obviously joking as he slides his other hand up my shirt to grab my other breast. “I’m with you because of this perfect rack you have.”
I burst out laughing. “Okay, mister! That’s enough.”
He chuckles and covers my mouth with his. I kiss him back, tracing his lips with my tongue. All this tension has made me hornier than I can remember being in a while. But why is he doing this now when just a few minutes ago he said he had to be at work early?
Is he just trying to get me to stop with my line of questioning?
A chill runs up my spine, and I pull back and look up at him.
“Can I ask you something?” Oh my God, I’m repeating myself now.
“You just–”
“The phone call you took last night,” I interrupt. “You’re sure that wasn’t Brandy?”
For the first time, Taylor nearly rolls his eyes at me. I’ve never seen him like this before. I’m supposed to be the one on edge, not him.
“I’m sure it wasn’t Brandy,” he replies firmly. “It was work.”
“Work,” I repeat.
He nods. “Telling me I have to be there early this morning. I took it in the living room because I didn’t want to bother you.”
His eyes are filled with care. His face is sharp and handsome, and his smile goes right into my heart.
But somehow, at that moment I know that Taylor does not work construction.
The realization nearly knocks me over like an avalanche.
“What can I do, baby?” he asks. “To prove myself to you? To make you feel better?”
My God, he’s putting an act on for me. And he has been this entire time. But why?
I pretend I need to resituate myself on the bed so I can get his hands out from under my shirt. If this bothers him, he doesn’t show any signs of it.
I have goosebumps all over my body.
“Your uncle’s birthday party,” he says. I’m suddenly confused.
“What?”
“Down in Mexico. I know you said I didn’t have to come because of the pain of traveling, but why don’t I come with you? That way you can introduce me, and I can show you that I really want to make this work. Be part of your family.”
He leans closer and wraps an arm around me. Despite the fact that he’s just showered, I get a fresh nose full of his pheromones, which I have absolutely no defense against. I can feel his pulse, strong and heavy, beating against the back of my neck through his thick bicep. He’s like a drug to me. Every time he wraps me up in his embrace, or even just places one of his rough hands on me, I become helpless.
He pushes my hair to the side and kisses me just beneath the ear and whispers, “I love you, Layla. You don’t have to worry about Brandy or any other woman ever stealing me away from you. My heart beats for you. My soul aches for you whenever I’m away. And it kills me to see you doubting that, sweetheart. I know you’ve been betrayed in the past, but so have I. Let me be there for you. Let us be there for each other.”
A tear drips from my eye, and I lean in against him. “Okay. I’m so sorry for bringing this up.”
But am I? Weren’t my concerns legitimate?
His words are wonderous as they always are. I can never get enough of his sweet talk. His dirty talk. But I still can’t shake the gnawing, biting sensation inside me–that splinter that’s screaming at me that something is wrong about all this. It’s like a war going on within me. My heart fighting my brain to determine whether or not I stay with Taylor. And right now, I don’t know which side is going to win.
“Don’t be sorry,” Taylor replies. “Just believe in us. That’s all I need.”
Do I believe in us?
I believed in a man once before, and look what happened then.
But am I just bringing my past to bear on Taylor? He doesn’t deserve that. He hasn’t done a single thing wrong, and here I am making waves over nothing.
But I know he’s lying to me.
About what?
“Do you believe in us?” he asks, eyeing me with a loving intensity. “I don’t know if I can go on if you don’t.”
“I believe in us.” I nod. Taylor’s entire body relaxes. His face softens and begins to shine again. He presses his lips to mine, and my heartrate rises. “I think I’m just having a bad day. Maybe I had a bad dream I don’t remember, and I’m rehashing what happened with my ex and projecting it on to you.”
Why am I apologizing like this?
There’s something dangerous about Taylor. I’ve known that since I met him, the night he saved me from those two men. And I never questioned whether or not that danger could ever be turned on to me.
Until now.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says calmly. He smiles, but it’s forced. Something about it frightens me. “So I’ll go with you to Mexico?”
I should tell him no. Bringing a romantic interest anywhere near my overly protective, cartel-boss uncle is a terrible idea. There’s no telling what he might put Taylor through as a vetting process to make sure he is right for his niece.
Not that I want any of that to happen, of course.
But then again, maybe that is a good reason to bring Taylor along. Maybe my uncle will be able to figure out what it is Taylor has been lying to me about or what he’s hiding. And if he can’t get to the bottom of it, then I’ll know it’s all been in my head.
“Yes.” I smile. “You can come.”
I feel terrible agreeing to this. I’m basically taking him down there under false pretenses. But if he’s going to lie to me, then I think I have every right to use whatever tools I have at my disposal to discover why.
My body hurts. My soul aches. My emotions are blazing at an all-time high.
Yet my mind is torn, struggling to decipher what’s going on here.
“You’re sure?” Taylor smiles, gently caressing my lower lip with the back of his thumb. “I don’t want to impose on you, sweetheart.”
It’s a struggle, but I manage to smile back. “I’m sure,” I lie, pecking his thumb gently. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”
He says nothing. Yet I see a glimmer in his eyes again that says to me he’s hiding something.
My heart sinks.
We’re both hiding things from each other. How on earth can this end well?