Page 38 of The Best You've Ever Had

She rolls her eyes, trying to fight back a smile. “Perv.”

Rising from the couch, I hook one arm under her knees, as the other circles round her back, lifting her into a cradle position as I stand. “Only for you.”

Wrapping her arms around my neck, she buries her face into my shoulder with a smile. “Well, this is fun.”

I look down at her, and my chest tightens. She’s fucking perfect, and I can’t tear my eyes away from the way she smiles at me. That smile—she doesn’t give it to just anyone. So seeing her grinning ear-to-ear, like I’ve just given her the best news, when all I’m doing is carrying her to my bed, makes me want to be the only one who ever gets to put that smile on her face.

We round the corner down the hallway to my room, and I gently lay her on one of the pillows. Her hair fans out as she looks up at me, exhausted, yet happy and content.

I’m a fucking puddle on the floor for this woman. Realistically, I don’t think she’d ever go for me. It breaks me,but I ignore it for tonight. I ignore it because, after the shittiest day of my life, all I want is to pretend this thing between us is permanent. Like we’re going to go the distance, and not that she’s leaving in another week.

I round the bed to climb onto the other side. She pops up, hair already a wild mess. “Can you unzip me? And hand me one of your shirts to wear?”

I nod and gulp, not entirely sure if I’m ready for the sight of her in one of my shirts. I can already feel the possessiveness rising in my chest at the thought of it, wanting to call her mine. Grabbing a Havenbrook Fire Department shirt from the drawer, I hand it over to her. She takes it and turns to face the door, moving her long hair to the side in one smooth motion so I can reach the zipper. It feels like I’m about to defuse a bomb as my hands delicately grasp the tiny clasp between her shoulder blades. I unzip it slowly, carefully, revealing inches and inches of her smooth skin as the zipper descends. The thin black straps fall off her shoulders, causing her to cup her exposed breasts.

That moment in between feels as if we both hold our breath, waiting to see what happens next. She doesn’t move, and neither do I—my hand is still glued to the clasp of the zipper at her low back, right above her ass. With the top of her lacy black thong exposed, the sight of it makes me instantly hard. My hand runs up the column of her spine, featherlight against every vertebrae. She shivers, arching against my hand, searching for more.

Glancing over her shoulder, she looks up at me with those gorgeous lips slightly parted, igniting an overwhelming need to touch her. Any hesitation is thrown out the window as my mouth crashes onto hers. We’re both hungry for the other, as if we’ve been starved for years, despite making out in a rundown parking lot only five hours ago.

Then again, I have a feeling I could never get my fill when it comes to her. If I made her laugh every day, I’d always besearching for more opportunities to hear that melodic sound. I could kiss her every single day and still crave her mouth on mine for longer. And if I only knew what it felt like to be inside of her, I’d be ruined. People like Layla only come around once in a lifetime, burning hot and bright, making you feel alive in every way.

I swiftly pull her dress off, pick her up by the waist, and place her in my lap facing me, flush against my erection. When she rubs herself along it, making that tiny desperate moan in response, I nearly explode on the spot. I try to pull myself together, because I’d rather drag my feet through broken glass than orgasm prematurely right now. I want to relish every moment of her hands in my hair, nails dragging down my back, the way her hips roll back and forth.

Reaching around her, I push the thin fabric of her thong aside, dipping my middle finger into her. As I start to withdraw it, she bears down, not wanting me to stop. So instead I add a second finger as she eagerly rides my hand.

“You want more, don’t you? You want me to make you come again?”

She nods, a quietyesrushing from her lips, as her head falls back with pure bliss.

I can feel her tightening from within, drawing closer and closer to finishing. But I don’t want her there yet, so I withdraw my fingers as she cries out in protest of the lack of physical contact.

“Please. I’m so close.”

Reaching for my briefs, her hand dips inside to wrap around my length. Her thumb circles the head slowly, spreading the precum that’s accumulated from my poor attempt to keep it together.

The action of her licking her lips, causes me to flex in her hand as she holds me tight.

“Can you…” her voice trails off, indecision cutting her words short.

“Can I what?”

She contemplates her next words. “Sex is going to make leaving harder.”

My hand cups her cheek, my thumb swiping over the delicate line of her cheekbone. She leans into my touch, eyes looking down as her lashes fan across her face. So open and vulnerable and unlike anything I’ve ever seen from her. Further confirmation that my suspicions were correct—Layla is a hardass on the outside, and what’s hidden underneath is everything that’s so soft it can be easily bruised. She dons the tough act to protect herself from being hurt. But I want her to know that I’d never hurt her. Despite our rocky past, I want what’s best for her.

“Look at me. If you want this thing between us to work, then I’m in. I’m all fucking in. But if you want to go back to the city and forget about this, then of course I’ll be sad, but I’ll understand and accept it. Because more than anything, all I want is to see you happy. So tell me what would makeyoufeel good? And I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for you.”

My heart thumps in my chest, waiting for her answer. If she doesn’t want to have sex, that’s absolutely fine. It’s her decision, and I’ll stop as soon as she says the word. But she leaves me hanging as if we’re suspended in the air, a thousand feet up, waiting for the moment her answer comes, waiting for the moment we’ll free fall. After thinking for a moment, she climbs onto my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck. Her mouth finds mine, and the moment is charged, the feeling between us is soft and understanding and tinged with something different than before. It’s full of intimacy and warmth, and at the very center of it is trust. She trusts me right now.

“Are you clear?” she asks, breaking apart the kiss only long enough to get the question out. I nod in response, as she whispers back. “Good. Me too.”

And with that, she angles my dick at the entrance of her pussy, lining it up so my head slips just inside. She lowers herself onto me, one painfully slow inch at a time, until she bottoms out. We both sit there, not moving as she adjusts to my size, while I try to not instantly come inside of her.

“Fuck. You feel so good,” I rasp. My nose brushes her own to take her mouth again, kissing her slowly as she begins to move by swaying her hips along my pelvis. “Yes, Lay. Keep going, just like that.”

She doesn’t have words to respond, only small gasps and moans, as her head tilts back from the feel of me inside her. Like someone has a string attached to her sternum and is pulling her upward, arching against me as she moves.

I kiss her neck as I watch her fall apart in my arms. Grab a nipple, tweaking it to see how her mouth falls open. A handful of ass to see how it drives her wild. Each touch elicits a new side of her, a different response, another layer peeled back.

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