Page 43 of Layne Closure Ahead

He finally drew his head back and looked at her unbothered. “Fuck him. He’s a whiny piece of shit.” Joey wasn’t Liam’s biggest fan, not many people were. What else was new?

Before he dove right back in for another taste of her, she turned in the passenger seat to look at him with all business in her eyes. “I don’t need him doing something stupid and interfering.”

He exhaled trying to bring the blood flow back up to his brain as he sat back on his side of the vehicle. “He may be a selfish prick, but he’s not completely stupid, Layne.”

She nodded, still not feeling at ease. “Let’s just say this plan works, and you can get what you need from Eric’s house this time. Then, what?”

“You let me worry about that.” Layne had heard that from one too many people before and hated hearing it out of his mouth. It felt like she was just being placated and kept out of the loop.

Before she could roll her eyes at him, his thumb and forefinger captured her chin so she could look into his eyes. His eyes shone a slightly lighter shade of brown with the sun beating in through the windshield.

She didn’t bother hiding her concern weighing down her voice. “And you’re okay with all of this? I’ve seen the way you look at Eric.”

Joey smiled at her lightly. “I’d be more than okay if you just so happen to become a widow at the ripe old age of twenty-six.” He leaned over and captured her lips to lull them into a slow and drawn-out kiss.

When he pulled away, he looked back into the stunning green eyes he had fallen for time after time again. “Look, Layney, it’s a piece of paper. It doesn’t mean shit.”

“And you’re not the least bit remorseful that you’re putting your hands all over a married woman, are you?” She grinned at the thought of it.

He leaned in and growled into her ear. “I plan to use more than just my hands.”

“Promise?” The question posed to him was full of hopefulness.

He grabbed her and pulled her to his side of the car and into his lap. Layne faced Joey as her legs straddled him. His hand ran up along her spine until he could grab a fistful of her soft locks of hair and tugged her head back. Joey leaned over and dragged his lips down the center of her exposed throat and over her chest. Each kiss was more sensual than the last as they reached the exposed swell of her cleavage. His other hand slid in the opposite direction down her back until his hand squeezed a handful of her ass.

She pushed her hips down over the quickly growing erection. Each seductive movement of her body against him caused him to groan against her. Her hands grasped onto his head, letting her fingers get lost in the newer and longer length of his hair.

Joey didn’t take long to make good on his promise to use more than his hands on her. Hell if he was going to let her enter the lion’s den without knowing who the real king of her jungle was.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The first snowfall of the season had taken hold of Manhattan. It was a light coating that barely interfered with daily life, but it added an extra touch of wintry beauty across the city.

Powdery white flakes clung to parked cars, signage, and street lights. While it was a gorgeous sight tonight, she knew that it wouldn’t take long to turn into a sullied mess of sloppy gray debris on the sidewalks. But for now? She could appreciate the view seated by the restaurant window. She was sitting at a table for two with the chair across from her temporarily empty.

Outside, people walked by, minding their own business like typical New Yorkers. Occasionally, a person or two would stop and take a look at the outdoor menu in the glass case by the front door. The restaurant had only been open a couple of months, but it was already capturing all the attention of the food critics and anyone willing to throw obscene amounts of money at a meal that was the size of a chicken nugget.

If her nerves were on edge, she didn’t let it show. Layne turned her attention to the half-drunk glass of rosé in front of her that she was idly swirling in light circles. That certainly didn’t hurt keeping her anxiety in check either. It hadn’t been her drink of choice, but it contained alcohol and that was good enough for her. She needed to get through this evening in one piece.

Her neutrally-colored fingertips tucked a loose strand of her hair back behind her ear. A thin silver ring in the design of Celtic knots adorned her pointer finger. It had once belonged to her mother and was thought to have brought good luck. Layne had chosen to braid and twist her hair back into a contained bun at the back of her head for the evening.

She refused to fully dress up for the evening, despising the impracticality of dresses when she was engaged in work matters. As far as she was concerned, Eric was going to be all work in her book. Layne had already worn one dress this year, and one man had made it worth her while. Such high hopes for tonight were nowhere to be found.

Instead, she compromised with a flirty black lace top that left her shoulders fully exposed but covered the length of her arms. Matched with the top was a pair of fitted black pants. Around her waist was a satin sash mimicking a belt knotted at her hip in a bow.

A presence sat down across from her, stealing her attention away from the stretching of the wine legs down the inside of the glass. Eric took his seat with a delighted smile directed at her. It was no surprise he had dressed his finest when Layne suggested they finally take a night out to celebrate their union as business and life partners.

“Apologies, I had to take a business call.” He tucked the cell into the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

Even in the dim lighting of the dining room, his frigid blue eyes stood out against everything else about him that was dark and brooding. His raven hair, his fully black ensemble, and probably his black heart, too. One of these days she’d have to confirm that assumption.

“I thought maybe you were going to make a run for it,” she grinned at him.

Eric shook his head. “From you? Wouldn’t dream of it. Running towards you? Now, that’s something else, little harpy.”

When the waiter approached, Eric ordered himself an Old Fashioned with the unusual twist of a lemon peel instead of the more traditional orange peel. The hairs on the back of her neck briefly stood on end and the scar on her heart ached. That was exactly how her dad always drank his Old Fashioneds, his signature drink. Something deep down told her that it was no coincidence that Eric had chosen it.

Layne swallowed down another mouthful of wine along with her feelings.

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