Page 34 of Beautiful Thing

“Good night, Layla,” he responds.

I turn and head back for my room, feeling his eyes on my back the whole way down the hallway.

Hand on the doorknob, I peek at him one last time and find him still standing right where I left him.

Good night, I mouth awkwardly again across the distance.

And a grin flashes across his face.

It’s like lightning. For the briefest moment, it lights up the walls of my tummy. And then it’s gone.

I slip into the bedroom and gently collapse against the door, struggling to catch my breath. I clasp a hand over my thundering heart.My god. What the fuck wasthat?

It was nothing. I try to convince myself that it was nothing.

I deconstruct Sky’s pillow fort, then my shaky legs climb into bed. I pull a pillow over my heated face, trying to squash the mega-grin that curls across my mouth.

I won’t be getting any sleep tonight. I’ll be replaying that hallway encounter in my mind until the wee hours of the morning.

12

ARCHER

“Layla…” I grunt, my breaths coming hard and fast. “Fuck…”

I drop my forehead against the wet tiles. My soapy fingers fist around my throbbing cock, giving it one furious jerk after the next after the next. My other hand squeezes my balls in a rhythmic pattern as cold water beats down on my back.

I’m losing my mind. I’m going crazy. I’m coming apart.

I want to touch her so bad. No matter how hard I try to stop myself, touching her is all I can think about these days.

But Layla only feels sorry for me. She sees me as a pathetic old dude who spends his nights alone. When all I want is to spend my nights with her.

On top of her. Beneath her. Inside her.

Not gonna happen, fuckhead.

Because what kind of asshole would I be if I came onto her right now? The worst kind.

She’s in a vulnerable position. She just needs a safe place for her and her son as she figures life out. I’d be a predator to backher into a corner and take her like I want to. Especially under these circumstances.

But that’s exactly what I’ve been fantasizing about. Every single night since she moved in, I lock myself in the walk-in shower of the bathroom adjoined to my library…and I fantasize about her. I let my imagination run wild.

A few moments ago, in that dark hallway, as she stared up at me with those rose petal lips and those big, brown eyes, I wanted to fuck the sympathy right out of her.

I wanted to show her what a beast I can be.

I wanted to order her to her knees and make her open her mouth for me.

I wanted to lift the hem of her T-shirt and bury my face between her legs and lick and bite and taste her until she was screaming my name.

But instead, I have to settle for this. Fucking my hand in the shower and wishing I were fucking her.

My hips pump senselessly as I imagine the weight of her breasts in my palms, the taste of her tongue tangled with mine, the warmth of her legs twisted around my back.

I roughly drag my fist down the length of my cock, from root to tip, flicking my thumb over the crown. That’s what sends me over the edge.

A tremor rockets down my spine and I begin to unload my release all over the damn tile. I slam my free fist against my mouth, biting into the flesh to keep from groaning her name again.

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