97. It’s Just the Le Tigre in Me
IT’S JUST THE LE TIGRE IN ME
LAYTON
I handle the condom and head back into the room. Livy is in a ball in the middle of the bed. I folded her in half while I fucked her, and she remains in that position. It borders on fetal, though, and I won’t have that.
But something about seeing her exposed, something about how tiny she is, makes me practically roar with protectiveness.
Despite her size, she is fierce, but needs someone at her back. I get the feeling she’s alone.
Fuck me. I’m starting to sound like my brothers.
I stalk toward the bed and climb in behind her, pulling her body to mine. Her skin is cool against my chest, so I wrap her up, our joined arms at her abs.
“I never took you for a spooner.”
I’m not. “I’ve never been one. But I want to touch you.”
It’s a simple truth, and I don’t embellish.
“I want you to touch me.”
“Are you going to tell me what I missed?”
A deep exhale leaves her, pushing her further into me. “I didn’t like the idea of you wanting to leave me while you were still inside me. It cheapens the connection.” There’s a pause before she quietly adds, “It cheapens me. And I deserve better.”
I pull our joined arms tighter into her chest, hugging her naked body to mine.
“You’re not cheap. And that isn’t what I meant. I’m not always good with words.”
“You said—” She stops. Just stops.
“You have your dream job, Pix, and the only thing I can do is mess that up for you. I want you, but wanting you is destructive. If I get what I want, you don’t have what you want.”
“And what if I want two things?”
I lower my voice, not liking what I have to say. “I don’t know that you get to have both. Not openly. And it’s only a matter of time before…”
“Before I lose one or both,” she says quietly.
I don’t know if she feels my nod.
We lay in silence for longer than I can count. For a guy who doesn’t cuddle, I’m surprisingly okay with what’s happening.
Until my dick thickens and alerts her of his presence.
Well… I’m not going soft.
… In either sense of the word.
After dinner, she sees me out.
I don’t want to leave, but I have to.
“Do you feel safe?” I hold her eyes as I palm her neck, my thumb rubbing over her jaw.
“I have Kyle and a knife. I barely slept last night, was up early, and have had so many orgasms I can’t stand. I’ll sleep so soundly, I won’t even worry if I’m safe.”
“Not the answer I was looking for.”
“Me either, but I’m not complaining about the orgasm part.”
I lean for her mouth. “Neither can I. Except you make me hard just thinking about you, and I’ll probably end up spanking off in the shower just thinking about your face when I enter your body.”
She lifts on her toes, her lips meeting mine as her fingers play at the nape of my neck.
I pull back and look down at her. Who is this woman and what is she doing to me?
Her golden eyes are bright, and her smile is sated.
“Call 911 and then me if you feel unsafe. Anything at all, understand? I’m too far away to help but will get here as soon as I can. Don’t hesitate if you’re scared.”
Her face goes serious, but she agrees.
“Today was…” She starts but takes a large step back instead of finishing. “Be safe going home, Layton. I’ll see you around.”
“Livy?”
“Good night.” I swear her petite frame grows an inch or two when she steels her spine and crosses her arms.
I step out onto the porch of Doc’s beach house, hearing the click of the door latch behind me. I wait but don’t hear the second lock.
Grabbing my phone, I message her.
Me: Deadbolt.
Click. It snaps into place, and I walk the few stairs down to the sidewalk and into the breezy night.
Me: Today was what, Pix?
Bubbles rise and fall, but eventually disappear. There’s no message by the time I get to my truck several blocks away.
I fucking hate leaving. It’s a catch-22. If I stay, I get what I want but ruin her career in the process. If I go, I sacrifice what I want but protect her while doing so. It always comes back to what is right versus what I want.
I slam my palms into the steering wheel as I pull onto the highway.
Dammit.
I dial George. He may be my agent, but he’s a trusted friend.
“Hey.”
“Hey. Did you get the docs back from my attorneys?” I ask.
“Yup. Reviewed and ready. You’re the face of Excel. How soon can I make Zoolander references?”
“Never.”
“Magnum? Blue steel?”
“You’re not allowed to talk about my dick.” I joke.
“Ew. Well, that ruined me forever. Asshole. Why’d you have to go and do that?”
“It’s just the Le Tigre in me.”
“You ain’t right.”
“Truer words, my friend. So I have an idea that I want to run by you.”
“Yeah?”
“Do you know of any yoga-wear companies that are looking for reps?”
“That’s an odd ask. Are you thinking of getting into the granola life?”
George should know better.
“Funny. Olivia Morgan might be a good model for them. Just a thought.”
“The same Olivia Morgan from Friday night?”
“Yes.”
“Anything I need to know?”
“Nope. Just thinking of ways to bring value to my new brand partner. Or to another if my agent is taking on female athletes outside the NCAA up-and-coming ranks.”
“Okay.” George stretches out the word and lets the silence hang after it until he finally adds, “I don’t know a ton about the yoga-wear market, if that’s even a thing. I’ll need to do some research.”
“Sure. Think outside the box on this one. Maybe it’s not modeling for photo shoots, but instructional videos wearing the clothes. You know, letting the outfits move or whatever in those poses.”
“Wow. You don’t know much about yoga either, do you?”
“Nope. I run. That’s all I do. I catch the ball and run.”
“You’re making yourself sound like a meathead. You’re way smarter in business than that.”
“…For a man who runs as a job.”
“Shut up, fucker.”
“Charlie called me again,” I say with no prelude.
“What? Tingle, Schmidt, and Asses know you have representation.”
“Dude. I’m not going anywhere. I made that very clear to him. I’m with you but wanted you to know all the same. Schmidt isn’t going away, and he’s playing hardball.”
Heavy footsteps tap on the other end of the line as George takes several loud breaths.
“You’d tell me, right? If there was a tempting offer?”
“George, I don’t want another agent. You’re a rarity in this business. You’re honest and real, and I never worry you’re going to fuck me over. I’m lucky to have you in my camp. If you ever try to leave, I’ll take you to the Everglades and remind you why that’s a bad idea.”
“Ha ha.”
“Who says I’m kidding?”
“Oh.”
“I’m just fucking with you. I wanted you to know, that’s all.”
“Thanks, Layton. I’ll see you tomorrow? In the meantime, I’m going to go research yoga shit.”
“See ya.” I disconnect and roll the driver’s side window down in my truck. Music cranked, cool breeze blowing, body relaxed.
I never see the car that flips off the guardrail in the oncoming lanes and goes airborne.
Not until it’s too late.