Page 30 of Two Weeks in Tahoe

“Tell me about your sister,” she says, her cheek resting on her hand, her elbow propped on the counter.

I smile. It still hurts to think about, but over the years, the memories have become bittersweet—both happy and sad. “She was a few years older, and fiercely protective of me. Ever since we were kids. This one time in elementary school, a kid made fun of me for… I don’t even remember what, and then the next day, she snuck a bag of dog poop to school and put it in his lunch box.”

Layla lets out a boisterous laugh, then covers her mouth, her eyes wide with surprise. “She did not! That’s amazing.”

“She did. She was crazy like that, but in the most loving, loyal way,” I say, smiling. “Jackson looks so much like her…”

Her expression softens, and I see pity in her eyes. But I give her a reassuring smile. I’m okay.

I place a gentle, comforting hand on her knee. But the intimate touch stirs something else in me. We lock eyes.

There’s a connection here that I know she feels too, and as I hold her gaze, I notice her shift slightly closer to me. Her eyes look to my lips and back up, and that’s all the sign I need. I lean in slowly, keeping my hand firmly on her knee, holding her gaze.

Our lips meet softly for a moment, then they crash together in a more hungry attack. She tastes sweet and she smells even better. Some sort of fruit that I don’t care to name.

Fuck. I want to taste more of her. Everywhere.

She lets out a breathy moan and I move even closer. Suddenly she’s standing up between my legs and I’m grabbing handfuls of her ample ass to pull her in closer to me. I throb with want for this woman.

Her arms wrap around my neck and her hand grabs the back of my hair. Our tongues dance in a gentle caress and I tilt my hips slightly, pulling her even tighter against me, showing her how much I want her. She gasps softly, the sound causing me to instinctively raise my hips into her just a little more. She arches her body into it.

Then she’s slowly pulling away, breathing heavily, and we look at each other for a moment. In a dream world I’d lift her up right now and take her to the bedroom to do ungodly things to her, but I can see in her eyes that she’s fighting a battle within herself and maybe not quite there yet.

I’ll wait as long as she needs. I’m a very patient man.

20

Layla

Liam is gazing at me like he wants to do filthy things to me. And I want to let him. Damnit, do I want to let him. But it doesn’t feel like the right time yet. It feels like there are a lot of things still left unspoken between us, and I think the time for a casual hookup has passed. It seems like there’s more between us than that, even though that’s not what I had planned.

His hair is disheveled, and a devious grin spreads across his face. I clear my throat and break his gaze, turning my attention back to my coffee. I can feel him still watching me, though.

Sensing my shift, he stands up, clapping his hands together enthusiastically. “Alright, how about an official tour of the place?”

“Okay,” I agree.

He shows me the main rooms downstairs as Cocoa trots along behind us the whole way, as if she’s giving the tour too. His bedroom is down the hallway from the kitchen, and there’s a bathroom straight across from that. There’s one last room downstairs at the end of the hallway. I realize right away that this room is his office.

Several large, state-of-the-art monitors are lined up on a desk, a fancy-looking chair sits in front of that, and in the corner, there are several extra computer parts thrown about.

So, this is his secret imperfection—a messy, chaotic computer room. I can deal with that.

“Home office?” I ask, taking it all in.

“Something like that. I haven’t kept up with it as much as I should the last couple of years.” He doesn’t have to say more. I know why.

He shows me the upstairs which contains a loft with a soft-looking couch and a television. Three more bedrooms are up here, one of them Jackson’s. His room has posters scattered all over the walls and toys tucked into every corner and pocket. I smile. There’s another plain guestroom, and then the last bedroom appears to be the master with its own bathroom. I wonder why Liam doesn’t stay in that one. Maybe because it was his parents’…

After the tour, we head back down to the kitchen and spend the next hour baking cookies with a Christmas movie playing in the adjoining living room. He’s bossy in the kitchen, but in a playful way. When I try to mix the flour in with the sugar and liquids, he looks at me like I’m a crazy person. According to him, you must mix all the dry ingredients separately first, then combine them slowly. I tell him it doesn’t matter—they all end up mixed together anyway. He shakes his head in mock dismay but let’s me do it my way.

I let him take over mixing after that and sigh dramatically as he takes his sweet time.

“Something wrong?” he questions with a playful tone.

“I think it’s mixed well enough by now,” I laugh. “You sure are taking your time.”

He looks up at me, his strong hands steady on the mixer and metal bowl. “I always take my time. Unless you beg me not to.”

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