Chapter 14
14
COLE
A strange tightness grips my chest.
I have no fucking idea what I’m doing or how things are going to play out, but after last night—after tasting how sweet she was and feeling how perfectly we fit together—I know I’m not ready to let this go just yet.
The conference is over, or at least my part in it is. I’m on my way to the airport. My private jet is waiting to take me back to New York.
Layla has decided to stay at the conference for the last day. She won’t arrive back in New York until later in the day tomorrow. We haven’t set a time for our date or even discussed what it should be. She wants to take things slow, but fuck that—I’ve been taking things slow for the better part of a year now. Besides, I know a thing or two about Layla, and giving her time to reconsider will not work in my favor. I need to strike while the iron is hot.
I think about all the words I said to her this morning. Fuck. Self-preservation tells me to walk away. I got what I wanted. It was just the sex I was after. It’ll never turn into anything more. We are heading toward an inevitable end.
Or are we.
I’ve tried to distance myself from her, and all it did was make me want her more. Her laughs, her smiles, the fiery sparkle in her eyes when I piss her off. I want all of it, and it scares the hell out of me.
My head and heart wage civil war against each other, and, for the first time in my life, my heart is winning.
For the next week, Layla and I settle into our new dynamic. We haven’t had our date yet, but we’ve texted and talked once or twice on the phone without either of us hanging up on the other. I’d say that’s a giant step forward.
I walk into the offices of Carmichael Law. Devon’s head snaps up at my appearance. I don’t have an appointment. I don’t need one. I know Layla is here, and I also know she is free. She told me she was using today to catch up on a backlog of work that has been piling up.
“Mr. Hendrix, can I help you with something?” he asks cautiously. I haven’t been here since our last blow-up almost seven months ago. Apparently, I left a lasting impression.
I hold up the takeout bag in my hand. “I’m here to see Layla.” I hope like fuck she likes Thai food. I’m going out on a limb here. I still don’t know much about her, but that’s about to change.
Devon’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline right before a wide smile spreads across his face. “Is she expecting you?”
“Not that I know of.”
He shakes his head.
“What’s in the bag?”
“Thai.”
“Okay, at least you got that right.” He smirks and nods his head again. “For the record, she’s not big on surprises, but I’m pretty sure she is not going to turn down Thai food, even if you are the delivery guy.
So I’m guessing she hasn’t mentioned our little talk in Boston then. I guess the cat will be out of the bag soon enough.
Devon reaches for the phone, presumably to let Layla know I’m here, but I raise my hand to stop him. “Too bad for Layla, I like surprises. I know my way.”
“I’m not sure that’s…”
I don’t wait around to hear what he has to say. His voice fades away as I make my way down the hall towards Layla’s office. My heart skips a beat as I get closer to her door. The last time I was here I almost blew a gasket. I’m hoping for a different outcome this time.
I knock twice.
“Come in,” her voice is husky and feminine, and just hearing it short-circuits my wiring. I push the door open and step inside.
“I took a chance and brought Thai for lunch. Devon assured me you wouldn’t kick me out. Have lunch with me.”
Her head snaps up from whatever she is reading. She studies me for a moment and then her lips curl into a sassy smile. My dick goes from soft to hard in record time. Fucking woman…how does she do that?
“This better not be your idea of our first date, Mr. Hendrix.”
I don’t miss the fact that she said first , ’cause I already know I’m going to want more than one. I smile back and scoff.
“Please. Give me more credit that that. When it happens, you’ll definitely know it, Ms. Bancroft. This”—I hold out the bag in my hand—"is just lunch. I’m hungry and thought you might be too.”
I step forward and clear a spot on her desk before I start unpacking containers. “If you’re anything like me, once you dig into work, you don’t come up for air until you’re so hangry, you’ve scared off everyone else in the office.”
She laughs and I soak it up. The sound is music to my ears. Score another point for Hendrix.
“God, we really are a lot alike, aren’t we?”
My eyes snap up to meet hers. “It seems we have one or two things in common. Let’s eat. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find out what else lurks below the surface.” I hand her a napkin and some chopsticks.
My tone is lazy, but there is nothing lazy about the way I’m watching her like a predator locked on its prey, my muscles coiled with tension.
Her fingers brush mine as she accepts. A tiny current of electricity sizzles over my skin. My body tightens with the effort of containing a physical reaction—a surprised jolt, a more deliberate brush of our hands.
Layla pauses, she felt it too, just like she has every other time.
I blame the cursed haze in my mind for what I say next. “That is, if you want company. I was grabbing Thai to go and thought maybe...”
Surprise slides across Layla’s face, followed by a hint of pleasure. “Sure. Yes.” Her cheeks flush with color. “I am hungry, and company would be nice. Thank you.”
I give her a curt nod.
“You’re welcome,” I say more stiffly than I intend. This is new for both of us, it seems. Christ, Hendrix, it’s just fucking lunch. I need to get the fuck out of my head, especially since I’m unsure how to handle whatever the hell is happening here.
I have no frame of reference for the strange fog clouding my brain, or the twinge in my chest when I look at her.
It isn’t anger. It isn’t hatred.
It isn’t lust or dislike or any of the other emotions that have shaped my previous interactions with Layla.
I’ve never felt like this before. I don’t hate it, but it unsettles the hell out of me.
Layla doesn’t waste any time. She digs into her lunch with gusto, and I watch in fascination. The woman can eat, and it turns me on. Fuck, everything about her turns me on it seems.
She wipes her mouth on her napkin. “So, tell me about your brothers. I saw them with you in the bar that one time, and then you piqued my interest at the conference.”
This I can handle. I dig into my pad thai as I consider what to tell her.
“My brothers Connor and Christopher and I share the operations of Hendrix Equity. We each have our own responsibilities, but we see each other and talk pretty much every day.”
“You’re close to your brothers?”
“Yes.” I stop eating, I don’t even need to think about her question. “They’re my best friends. We’ve been alone together for a long time.”
“Alone?” she repeats. “When did your parents pass?”
“Oh.” I chuckle and shake my head. “No, they are very much alive. What I mean…” I pause, as I contemplate my answer. I don’t want her to think badly of my parents. We all love them very much; we just didn’t have a traditional upbringing.
“We went to boarding school together, overseas, from a young age. We shared a room, and it has mostly always been the three of us.”
“Wow.” She sets her container down and opens a bottle of water before taking a swig. “Is that good or bad? I’m not sure what to think. I can’t imagine my mother sending me away…ever. I lived with her most of my life, and we still talk almost every day.”
No mention of her father…we’ll circle back to that.
“It’s not what you think.” I try to explain.
“My parents are busy, successful people. They are also happily married and have three busy, successful sons. They wanted the very best for each of us, they still do. It doesn’t mean they weren’t there when it counted. Our family is and always has been a happy one. I’m not going to lie and say it wasn’t hard when I first went away to school at such a young age, but soon enough my brothers joined me, and we never looked back.”
I watch her as I explain. We obviously come from very different backgrounds. I’m not sure she will understand. It would be easy to spin the way I was raised in an entirely different direction. Layla wouldn’t be the first person to think that way. Time to turn the tables.
“What about you? What are your parents like? Any siblings? It seems you know more about me than is fair. Time to even the score.”
She pushes her food away and takes another sip of her water as she nibbles on her lip and considers what to tell me. I want to hear it all, so I wait patiently.
“It’s not quite as easily summed up as yours,” she says as she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and rises from her chair to start gathering up our leftovers.
I rise with her. “I’ll tidy up. You start talking.”
She glares at me for my bossiness, but plops her delectable derriere back into her chair, leaving me to my task.
“There are no siblings that I know of,” she starts. My eyebrows shoot up and she chuckles. There’s that weird feeling in my gut again.
“Okay, let me start from the beginning. It’s only been me and my mom for most of my life. My dad was never part of the equation. I met him on my thirtieth birthday. It’s a long, complicated story. Maybe I’ll tell you about it someday, but not today. Long story short, we are working on it.”
She proceeds to tell me that her mother was a Brazilian beauty who moved here to become a doctor. She became an ER nurse instead after getting pregnant with Layla. They scrimped and saved and had a wonderful life—just the two of them. Her mother never married. Layla worked hard and put herself through law school. I want to know more about the deadbeat dad, but I don’t ask. It’s her story to tell me when and if she is ready.
“How did you end up here?” I spread my arms to take in her office. Her face lights up like the fucking sun. This is a topic she enjoys talking about.
“I met all three of my partners a few weeks after starting at Columbia. We’ve been best friends ever since. This was Avery’s mom’s firm. Avery joined her after graduation, and then when Sara Carmichael succumbed to breast cancer not long after, the three of us jumped on board, and the rest is history. I love my mother, and who knows, I may even grow to love my father one day, but these women…every one of them…they are my family.
I suspected, but it’s nice to hear her confirm that she has solid people in her life.
“Tell me about Aria. How did that relationship come about?”
She smiles and shrugs. “I’ve always volunteered. Started when I was a teenager. I guess you could say I have a soft spot for abandoned kids and animals. I suppose on some level, I could relate. I try not to get too involved, but every once in a while, someone slips through the cracks. Call it fate, I guess. It happened with Luna, my rescue cat who still lives with my mother. It happened again with Aria.”
Layla gets up and turns to stand facing the window. “She was dealt such a shitty hand, and she’s such an amazing kid. I knew if I didn’t step in, she was going to eventually end up in the system.” She turns to face me.
“You met her. She’s not just the cutest little thing you’ve ever seen. She’s also brilliant. She’s only nine and she’s already skipped a couple of grades. I couldn’t let the garbage that surrounds her destroy her life. I stepped in, offered to help so she could stay with her elderly grandmother. I do what I can.”
“Where are her parents?”
“Her dad is in prison for murder, and her mother is a meth addict who could be dead for all I know. I’ve only met her once and it didn’t go well. It’s been over a year since the last time Aria saw her. If I had my way, she’d never see her again.”
I step behind her desk to toss our lunch in her trashcan. “Fuck. The poor kid.” When I turn back, she is standing a few feet away, with her back to the window. “She’s lucky to have you,” I say as I take a step closer.
“I do what I can,” she says again. “I love that kid like she’s my own,” she whispers as her eyes dart away. This is a side of her I’ve never encountered. A softer side that is just as intriguing as her fiery side.
“You’re fucking amazing.” I take another step closer. Her eyes dart up.
Sunlight kisses the curve of Layla’s face, accentuating the delicateness of her high cheekbones and the sensual fullness of her lips. Her eyes shine dark and luminous, like precious stones sparkling in the sun.
Surprise glints in their depths at my words, along with the smoky whisper of desire that curls in my groin. I haven’t seen or touched her since Boston, but all I want is to see those eyes darken with pleasure again. To feel the softness of her body pressed against mine and hear her breathy little gasp as she kisses me back. Blood pounds in my ears. The breeze from the vents hisses as the air grows hotter and thicker, instead of cooler as expected.
The electricity from earlier returns and stretches the moment into one long, perfect thread of tension.
“We should probably get back to work,” Layla breathes. There is a slight tremor in her voice. “I’m sure we both have lots to get done before the end of the day.”
“Agreed.”
For a suspended moment neither of us moves.
Then the tension explodes with the force of a lit match in a barrel of gasoline. My mouth crashes down on hers, and her arms wrap around my neck, pulling me flush against her. A low moan vibrates against my mouth when I back her up against the window and pin her hips between my thighs.
Raw desire takes over, eradicating thoughts of anything except Layla.
I stroke my tongue against the seam of her lips. Tasting her. Demanding entry. They part, and the heady, intoxicating taste of her coats my tongue.
I cup the back of her neck and angle her head so I can deepen the kiss.
Her hands sink into my hair; my palm sweeps beneath her blouse and over her stomach.
We kiss like we are drowning, and the other person is our only source of oxygen. Wild. Frantic. Desperate.
And it still isn’t enough.
I need more of it. More of her.
“Cole.” Her soft cry when I cup her breast almost undoes me.
“That’s it. Say my name, sweetheart.” I start to kiss my way down her neck and chest, eager to reconnect with every inch of her body.
The smell of Layla’s arousal is intoxicating. I tug at her skirt, trying to get it up so I can have a taste.
“Please.” She pants. She tugs on my hair to the point of pain as she tries to direct me where she wants me.
“Cole,” Layla whimpers, and looks up at me when I hesitate.
Her cheeks are flushed and her chest heaving from her excitement. A light sheen of sweat mists her skin. Her face is full of trust.
No one has ever looked at me like that before. Just like that, a cold trickle of reality pierces my fog of lust. I suddenly remember where we are. This was just supposed to be fucking lunch , I remind myself. Despite the need raging through me, I pull back. My cock pulses so hard it aches.
Layla wraps her arms around my neck and presses her hips against mine, the message is clear.
Fuck me.
I want to. My body screams for it, my cock aches for it. It would be so easy to sink into her softness and let it carry us away.
But that’s not why I’m here. It would send the wrong message. I want her to know that I’m better than that. That there is more to me than the player she thinks I am.
My hands gently push her hips away and my cock practically weeps at the lost connection.
“Cole?” Tentativeness creeps into her voice at my hesitation.
Goddammit.
I unwind her arms from my neck and straighten up to my full height, before I lean back down and capture her lips one more time.
“Soon baby, but not here.” Her hands drop away as I step back. The look on her face is priceless. I’m not sure if she’s happy or planning my untimely demise. Either way, I’ll give her some time to figure it out.
“I have a date to plan. I’ll be in touch.”
With that said, I get the fuck out of there before I change my mind.