Page 64 of I Still Love You

Anything.

Now look at me. I can’t hold myself together for one fucking evening. She knows it, and so do I. Still, I won’t give up without a fight.

“I believed that up until a few moments ago. You could’ve invited any woman.” She breaks out into a weak smile. “Lord knows it wouldn’t have been difficult for you, but you chose your ex-fiancée. You chose me.” Her robin-blue eyes flash with torment, causing my stomach to clench because I know that look. It’s the same one she gave me when she told me she was backing out of the engagement. Her voice is a whisper on her lips when she says, “It’s just now dawning on me that this isn’t going to work. Me and you, we can’t be friends, Luke. I was so hopeful, but we’re not meant to be anything.”

No.

Fuck that.

“That’s shit,” I say, “and you know it.”

“It’s the truth,” she challenges back, “and you know it. You’re just too scared to accept it. You knew it when I first came here and throughout us faking it. Nothing changed. Not really, anyway. We’re just two people trying to heal from a painful past, and that isn’t going to happen until we get out of each other’s way.”

That’s where she’s wrong. Everything has changed. I’ve changed.

I don’t want to chew her up and spit her out. Not anymore. I want to eat up her presence until I’m content without having anything else. That’s what’s scary. I’m over hating the woman of my dreams. Deep down, what I really want to say, but am too fucking chickenshit to admit to, is that I still care about her. Deeply. A little effort, and an I still love you, Layla, will bring down what’s left of this night.

I watch as she unlocks her phone and returns to the Uber app. I reach out again, ready to take her phone and stuff it in my pocket this time, but she’s ready for my advance. She twists to the side and moves her arm back, shielding her phone with her shoulder against my chest.

“Give me the phone,” I demand.

“No.”

A group of guys exit the ballroom and head for the doors leading outside. I’m unenthused that they need to walk by us to get there, so I try to shuffle Layla to the side. She, however, thinks I’m trying to reach for her phone again and jerks, facing the group of men.

“Damn it, Layla.”

And then it happens. My loafer comes down on the tail end of her dress, pulling at the fabric enough to make one of the straps snap in two. Gravity grips the thin string, and before she’s able to get a handle on it—because she’s too busy trying to schedule a damn Uber—the fabric that covers her chest folds down, exposing the crest of her breast and her very pink, very suckable nipple.

The men passing through halt, their greedy eyes lapping up Layla’s bare tit. Time slows as she fumbles to cover herself, but she’s too fucking slow. These guys are gawking at her pert nipple, and I don’t like it.

My hand darts for her, moving like a missile against time. My palm brushes against her skin, covering her from the dogs in front of us. My chest presses against her back. Her hand moves over mine like it’ll give her extra protection from their probing stares.

It doesn’t.

It also doesn’t hide the sensation of her nipple rubbing against my palm. Nor does it prevent all the blood in my body from rushing south.

How the fuck did her strap break so damn easily? This gown looks like it was easily hundreds of dollars. There’s no way this should’ve happened. Whoever sewed this thing deserves an earful.

I turn my steely eyes to the guys and flick my head toward the exit. “Keep moving. There’s nothing to see here.”

One of them smirks, his eyes gliding down Layla’s slender frame. “You’re wrong, man. There is definitely something to see.” He brings his fist up to his mouth. “Bet there’s only one thing—maybe two—tighter than that tit, and I’d really like to get a look at them. What do you say, baby?”

Layla gasps as fury creeps up my spine. Who the hell does this guy think he is? If I weren’t protecting her from this asshole, I’d put my fist through his mouth.

“Shut the fuck up, you idiot,” a guy behind him says before cracking him on the back of his head.

“Don’t act like you weren’t thinking it.”

I nod at the respectable one as he grips the back of the guy’s neck and steers him out the door. When the door clicks shut seconds later, the air in the foyer thickens—along with my cock—and I can’t, for the life of me, release her. “We need to move before someone else walks by and gets an eyeful.”

She defiled those men. It’ll be the talk of the hospital if anyone else sees. Worse if they see my hands on her in the open hall. And I don’t need that. Not when I already have my hearing coming up. Not when I’ve already gotten a warning from the board.

With her voice quiet and tight, she says, “O-okay, where, um, where is there a bathroom?”

That’s a good fucking question. I look from side to side. On my right, there’s nothing but a wall, but on my left, there’s a hall that runs about fifty feet. I notice doors spaced out on both sides. One of them must be a bathroom or private enough for us to gather ourselves.

With my hand still covering her, I nudge her toward the hall. “Come on. There has to be something down there.”

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